"Things of Beauty May Be Then in Season"

I began today with an attitude of discovery, looking “up and out,” just as I had hoped. It was something of a joy to notice the spray of burgundy leaves crowning the line of trees I pass every day, to glimpse the surprising strip of vivid green framing the drying cornfields and the shock of golden chrysanthemums on display outside the fruit market, a contrast to the crates of fresh honeycrisps. Quiet, iconic October.

And then . . .

Acid-washed jeans with tapered legs. Members Only-style jackets. Neon, color block hi-tops. An abundance of safety pins worn as accessories. Pleated pants with a long rise. Footless, lace-trimmed leggings. Oversize, neon, plastic sunglasses. Canvas, checker-board print, slip-on shoes. And a Whitney Houston-“I Wanna Dance With Somebody”-style perm.

More ugly, of a different kind: the creepy, scowling, leering guy on the bus who looked like an understudy for Argus Filch. The person sitting behind me on the bus whose breath I could smell with each exhalation. Whatever it was that someone dumped into the ‘bubbler' drain ('bubbler,' by the way, is ‘Sconnie for ‘water fountain.’). Just . . . ew. Then, on the way home, it rained mud.

So on day one of purposefully seeking and noting beauty, I was surrounded by a whole lotta ugly.

"There ought to be gardens for all months in the year,
in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season."
~Sir Francis Bacon, "Of Gardens," 1625

At least I can be sure of this: October has a wicked sense of irony, and that is a beautiful thing.