—–The argument for God is not via harmony in nature, but meaning in your own life. Nothing proceeds from wondering on the profound, or the strangeness of this scene, and leaving out your own awareness. I cannot prove the spiritual by an implication, it is instead spectacularly missing, in the very beauty of disarray. But I claim the tension, as if holding things together, and I can claim the miracle in the ordinary yard . . .
—–The argument is in the story and the sequence, both of which are invisible. Meaning is untraceable. But God exists in the arena that includes the person. Say it again, try to make it absolutely poetic. The splendor taken apart is meaningless, just being awestruck by the silent yard, or afraid of the brittle season, won’t invoke a creator. Though clearly there is a creator, I have to think God backwards, witness it after I suffer it, recover it. Step out the back door, inhale the rain-soaked air, and . . . photograph it!