To a certain extent, people are right--it's in the eye of the beholder. But not totally either.
Exhibit A, the above. How do you like them tamaters? They're mine. Well, sort of. I planted 'em late last spring, watered them three or four times, and them relied on whatever was in their DNA, plus the kindly weather. All summer, it was relatively cool and rainy, probably the perfect storm for good tomatoes, at least this year we've got ourselves some bounty.
There's a joke making its rounds out here, and it goes like this:
Q. How is it Sioux County people lock their doors every August?
A. They don't want the neighors leaving their blasted zucchini.
But back to beauty. Here's what I'm wondering: Is the above a "beautiful" picture? I think it is. Try to look away. But is my judgment skewed by my ownership--I mean, they're mine. Is the beauty a by-product of the mean fact that they're from the plants I put in the ground last May?
I honestly don't know. What is, really, beautiful. What about this?
Sweet sweep of lines here, eh? Know what it is? A twist of tooth floss on my desk--used tooth floss (sorry). I don't care--somehow it's pretty.
In this dark world, it's our job, I think, to find it--beauty that is. Sometimes you don't have to look far.
And now it's time for salsa.