On Aesthetics

I find myself surprised sometimes by how much I truly love beauty. I am an aesthete. Things that are beautiful intrigue me, inspire me, ellicit an emotional response from even me. Sometimes I forget that this is so true. I am not sure how this is even possible considering my artistic nature, but I find myself time and time again reawakened to this intense affection I have for true beauty.
Especially in nature.
This weekend several of my friends and I went on a road trip to New Castle, Indiana. Anyone who has been to New Castle can tell you that it is not an especially beautiful city. In fact, much of the city is rather run down. It has its nicer sectors as most cities do, but there is an awful lot that is decrepit there. While there, the four of us managed to have some fantastic fellowship and even rest, although we had to sacrifice some productivity to accomplish this. I think it was worth it.
Well, in the midst of this merriment, we took some time out of one day to hang out at an apple orchard. I am so glad to live in a region where such places exist. I feel bad for all those in Florida who are limited to oranges and will never get to experience the great joy that can be found at an apple orchard. Not only was this an orchard, however, but it was an orchard in full swing for the middle of fall. There was a pumpkin patch, gallons and gallons of freshly made cider from the season's still unfinished harvest, bushels of apples, hot cider, cider slushies, and even apple cinnamon donoughts, an astounding creation of which I had never before partaken, but which I quite enjoyed. Outside of this particular apple orchard, there happened to be a number of large hay bales, stacked several layers high, so as to reach a height around twelve feet. Those who know me well no of my great fondness for climbing just about anything that will hold my weight. Fortunately, I am blessed with, and was accompanied on this occasion by friends who are aware of the truth that maturity does not mean forgetting how to play (this became quite evident during an impromptu pillow fight, but I will not go into those details). These hay bales were certainly intended as a mountain to be scaled by young adventurers visiting the orchard, but as there were no children about when we stood before the mound, we made it our own for the briefest span of time. We climbed, jumped, ran, posed (there were a couple of cameras being used to their fullest capacity), and altogether had a good time. I have such wonderful friends.
The sky on that day was remarkable. It had been dreadfully windy the day before and would be raining later in the day, but while we were out on our venture, heaven was made manifest before our unworthy eyes (note the aesthete in me coming out). On the way to the orchard, I sat in what has come to be known as the way-back of Alice, my good friend's station wagon in which we took our tour of central Indiana. This was one of the classy station wagons featuring a seat in the very back that faced the rear of the car. As I sat there looking out the rear window, I could see autumn trees wafting beneath an azure sky thick with glistening clouds as hard at play as we would be on those hay bales. When we arrived and I was finally let out of the car (the rear hatch requires a key on the outside to be opened), it was remarked that I had hardly said a word on the whole way there. I could not help it. I was watching the astounding sky unveiled before me. During our time at the orchard, I happened to snag a friends camera for a spell, and I promptly filled it with pictures of those majestic clouds. This is not the first time I have done so either. Skies, especially clouds, fascinate me. Part of it may be their artistic mystery to me. Try as I might, I have never managed to accurately capture the beauty of clouds. I know there are artists who can, but to capture them as they appear is a feat as yet beyond me. However, I think that in truth, it is simply their incredible beauty. The return trip from the orchard was very much the same. I was mostly silent as I watched the billowing angels. That very day, we left New Castle. As we were driving, the aforementioned rain clouds began to gather ahead of us, but before they could throw off their yokes, we got to watch the sunset. Another reason I love clouds: the unfathomable things they do when the sunsets. I could not even begin to describe what the sun did that day. Pictures were taken, but I maintain that it would be impossible for them to come anywhere near capturing what passed that day.
This morning, I woke up to behold a few loose patches of snow still clinging to the shadows. By the time I stepped outside, they had vanished, but there was still a chill in the air nipping at my bare legs and arms. My father has always said, "If you don't like the weather in Indiana, wait ten minutes." Today has certainly been the proof of that statement. They day is not even over and we have had clouds, sunshine, rain, and snow. While I was sharing breakfast with a friend, she remarked that there was a rainbow outside. Sure enough, there it was. Rainbows are incredible. Anyone who tries to belittle them for those things with which they are associated is close minded and incredibly pitiable for not being able to enjoy their beauty. Well, my curiosity got the better of me. I went to the window to get a better view of this age old message from God, and I noticed that it went a lot higher than I anticipated. Excited now, I went outside to see it and observed a complete rainbow, rising from the horizon, singing in the clouds, and than descending once again. I received so much joy from that experience.
I am such an aesthete.
I am blessed to be such.