How Beauty Shows Up — Donna Hopkins

I asked for permission to walk into the greenhouse to take a few pictures. The bedding plants were just beginning to take root. The park ranger was smoothing cement for a strong support within the greenhouse. I talked with another young ranger about the joys of picture-taking. The morning rain had eased off, so I walked the garden beneath light diffused by soft clouds. The peonies ranged from buds to full blossoms. The irises rose from the gardens like dots connecting one to another, leading the way to a larger picture—it’s own kind of surprise.

Every day I find beauty simply because I look for it. I look for it in the same way I draw air into my lungs. As though I need it to survive. This is not an exaggeration; it feels deeply true.