Nature’s Art

Dear, Friends,

I’d like to share a short post on a wonderful experience I had this past week in Boulder.

Of course, as usual, my time back in Colorado was a treat. I do so miss it when I’m away, and when I’m back in town, it seems my experiences are always, rather appropriately, exceptional. So it was about the middle of the week, my partner and I ventured to beautiful Summit County. In the town of Dillon, we along with some fifteen others, met famed nature photographer John Fielder, whose charge it was that day to lead us on a hike through, quite possibly, the most gorgeous tract of country I’ve ever yet lain eyes upon.

The trail passed through a brilliant meadow of columbines and other wildflowers, and through forests thick with aspens. Everywhere I set my foot was the softness of velvet, and the air shimmered with all the hues of daylight.

I was astounded that such a place could exist. It was very much like a scene out of a fairy tale.

Much as I tried to find some evidence of human presence–perhaps a crumpled paper, or a shred of metal out of place–I found nothing to that effect. The place was utterly idyllic and untouched. Yet a beautiful order reigned there, as if Nature herself had mowed the grasses with delicate finesse, and fashioned the trees into perfectly balanced stands. Surely, it showed the self-same beauty that humans aspire to in all their artistic endeavors.

It reminded me that Nature is always beautiful. No matter its configuration, it appears well in-balance, and supremely elegant. Our human architecture may be dazzling, at times, but let us judge also of its failures: the noisy, dirt-ridden cities; the cracked pavements; the car exhaust; the smells of steel and concrete. Nature is always in good taste, but in our fumbling to recreate her majesty, too often we find ourselves frustrated. In Nature, things exist wholly beautiful. In civilization, we draw up beauty alongside ugliness, and this is the price of pretended apotheosis.

Yes, I was surprised at how “tidy” Nature appeared in that little-known tract, yet immediately, it made sense. Why should Nature not be well-proportioned? Why should the elements of her design not be executed flawlessly? Whence this notion of Nature unkempt and slovenly, for surely she is not.  In her minutest details, there are the very models of our most felicitous accomplishments. They are order and chaos, by alchemy, perfected.