There it was spread out before me. A glorious carpet in vivid hues of red, flame and green. It drew the eye in, encouraged it to trace curves, then threw it out again. The pattern was deceptive; did it repeat, did it not? You could gaze at it for hours, and not see enough of it. Can anything be more beautiful than the canvases painted by Nature, I wondered.
A gentle breeze hit the stream. Threw a blanket of silver ripples over the water. The carpet disappeared under the cloak of silver. No artist can come close to Mother Nature.