I snapped this pic as I was going in to work. Those shadows of the grass on the concrete emphasize the long, spiky blades and create a pattern all their own.
There are so many textures here: the smooth plants, the crumbling dirt, the pitted concrete, the little bits of organic matter (or remnants of an old cigarette butt). The wet cement as opposed to the dry also produces different shades of gray, and that jewel of green strokes, with sunlight glinting off of them, sparkles.
It all caught my eye immediately, but the puzzled stares of others exiting their automobiles showed me that shadows on the edge of concrete are not beautiful to everyone.
I recalled how my father-in-law used to say, as he put his arm over my mother-in-law’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately, “It’s a good thing we all like different things, or everyone would want you!”