At the top of our old hayfield is the fence row. The fence is out, and wild plums are encroaching. When we had cows, there were paths winding through here, because the cows liked to stand under the plums in the middle of the day. In early spring,when the cows were gone, our kids liked to play in there.The first bunches of Dutchmen's Breeches, or Gentlemen's Pants, bloomed profusely here, and the other ephemerals, Bloodroot, and pale pink starry Spring Beauties. There were hanging grape vines to make swing seats, and rooms to play house in, and build forts. Usually there was a collection of murky bottles, and I noticed a few of my spoons, to make a kitchen.
We were implored to come visit, to see how wonderful it all looked inside the plum thicket.
As I recall, it was very, very beautiful.
How wonderful that we live in a place that abounds with such beauty. As with your own beautiful work, beauty is never useless...that which surrounds us enriches our work and our very souls.
It all depends on what useless means.
I like that beauty exists regardless of our uses, that it's always there, like the constellations (which are beauty in themselves). The question posed, that I keep asking myself, is from the Elvis Costello Song, All This Useless Beauty:
What shall we do, what shall we do, with all this useless beauty?
I agree, I too like the fact that beauty just is, regardless of whether it is of any use (to us humans I hasten to add), beauty seen by us humans always depends on the eye of the beholder; what would for example a bee make of the plum blossoms, I wonder?
I wish this were facebook so i could click 'like'. Good memories.
I'm so nostalgic in the springtime--I wonder if this happens to other people? At least I can blame my weepiness on tree pollen
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