A brief respite for people who care too much.

Today I was going to write about the Seize BP movement. Or fistulas. Or sex trafficking. But I’m really not feeling a sufficient sense of outrage for any of that. Actually, I woke up feeling grateful for my life, my nice pillow, and my really soft sheets — so I thought I’d write about something beautiful. And show pretty pictures.
All of these photos are from the Scott Arboretum at Swarthmore College, a preposterously lovely place. We used to live right across the street from the Arboretum’s 300 acres (it covers the campus), and I can tell you with great certainty, it is glorious in every season.  Each tree, shrub, plant and flower has been thoughtfully placed, labeled and is flourishing. You can take classes there, volunteer, buy stuff at their sales, or just wallow in the extravagant beauty of the place.
The Arboretum is a living memorial to Arthur Hoyt Scott (a Swattie from class of 1895) whose intention was to inspire beginner gardeners “by the planting in a public place of such trees, shrubs, and flowers as can be used by people of average means …”

Well, that’s a tiny bit of a crock because, let’s be honest: gardening is expensive, not to mention seriously back-breaking.

But it doesn’t cost a thing to look at the fruits of all that labor.

So today, let’s take a little break from the troubles of the world and remember this from John Keats:

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.