The construction worker exclaimed over the beauty of a tree, which I explained was a Chinese elm. I agree with him one hundred percent. Wrote down the name for him to look up later.
The early afternoon cloud hanging dopily in a haze of blue, framed in the side view. Lovely.
The sprawling city sunset. It hits you with a bang. You almost want it to be over, the beauty makes you feel so small.
The awesomeness of small stitched things, the things people overlook, like a sampler created in 1795 in Philadelphia by a teenaged seamstress named Mary Jones.
The perfect limestone posterior of an ancient Venus figurine the Metropolitan is lucky enough to own. Someone once carved it, held its power in his hand.
A delicate rainbow after a storm. Even the least corny people would find it beautiful.
A leaf mosaic, one of a billion in the world yet individual as a snowflake. You could lie under that and meditate for hours.
This post is what we call “list-y” around my house, which means you just throw things in before they’re fully worked out in the writer’s brain. List-y is usually a placeholder, nothing finished.
Yet it might inspire you to make your own list of beautiful things. Let me know if you do.