Things I Didn’t Notice at First

This series is about familiarity, and what it quietly takes from us.

Most of us live inside places for years — towns, streets, houses, routines — and assume we know them. We walk the same routes, pass the same buildings, open the same gates. Over time, the world becomes efficient. Our attention narrows. What doesn’t interrupt us stops registering.

Then something small happens.

A hedge is cut back. A door is left open—the light changes. We slow down unexpectedly. And suddenly we see something we’re certain we’ve never seen before — even though it has been there the whole time.

These pieces sit in that moment.

They’re written from the perspective of someone who works outdoors, who spends time with edges, back routes, overlooked corners, and things that only reveal themselves when you stop rushing past them. They’re not about discovery in the dramatic sense, but about re-seeing — the quiet return of attention to places, objects, seasons, and habits we thought were already known.

Nothing here is urgent. Nothing is instructional. There are no quick conclusions to draw.

Just observations from the second look.

Published by Earthly Comforts

The Earthly Comforts blog supports my gardening business.

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