Surprised By Beauty

It was such a simple thing. I only turned my head.

Somehow the spray of wild ivory roses that I'd picked earlier in the afternoon had been dropped on top of my purse, which is calfskin-brown. It seemed to me that I'd never seen green before, nor known, really, what the words "curve" and "tendril" and "leaf" mean; not known them where they lay displayed against the rich chestnut leather, as though brushing a calf's flank while he stands lazily in the sweetness of afternoon sunlight.

We argue about beauty a lot at PHC. What is it? How do you discover or display or--more controversially--make it? What does it look like? Is modern art "beautiful"? All of these are worthwhile questions, but how long has it been since we just sat and.... since I just saw.... you know?

It took my breath away.