Seasonal Beauty

Last Friday the seasons changed…I’m not sure why but it took me by surprise. The mornings became dark and a chill sets in around my thighs as I wait for the train. However it is still early and the steam rises up over the lake and creates a canvas upon which the sunlight applies oranges, pinks, greys, blues, and the occasional deep purples with broad, deft strokes. Each morning is a new portrait and the most wonderful part is that with each passing moment the portrait shifts, takes on an entirely different identity. Perhaps Monet understood this concept as he painted the same pond over and over again. Realizing that the same place held an infinite amount of beauty that could only be unlocked through years of observation under a variety of conditions; but eventually, I imagine he succumbed to the reality that he had not enough years, nor paint and canvas to capture the true beauty of the pond. This could be thought of as a moment of absolute despair, a true reckoning of a hopeless mortality. However I would like to believe that Monet, as an artist, was in pure exaltation.


The beauty of a mere pond unable to be accurately portrayed, grasped, or explained despite a lifetime of study… What does this say of God’s more complex creations, what of the morning sunrise, the waterfall in the wilderness, and of course that which all men find most beautiful in this world, woman. That I should be given ten score lifetimes to discover the beauty of woman and still fall short delights me. God, in his infinite wisdom, made beauty the most elusive prey. Happy Hunting I say!