Beautiful is beautiful

In the process of writing this essay, I learned that a word that describes itself is called an autological word, and there is a list maintained by Henry Segerman here.

"Beautiful" is not on the list, but I'd argue that it's an autological word. Beautiful IS beautiful. I'm not a linguist, so I don't know how to explain it (nor do I care to do so).

But here are things I found beautiful on a walk in a park one autumn afternoon:

1. The sun peeking from trees
2. A magpie hopping around on a grassy meadow
3. The thud of a dry leaf as it meets the earth
4. A group of girls in all manners of seated, in a circle, in the meadow, discussing god-knows-what, laughing and giggling
5. A little girl waving at me and going "bonjOur MADAME!"

At some point last year, I had a bit of a Champignon de Paris revelation (so much so, I wrote a blog post about it). This year, I finally got my hands on them.

My god, these beauties. The gills. THE GILLS!!

I promise you I was not on shrooms or any other illicit drugs, but I felt so... mesmerised by how gorgeous the gills were. They are arranged like a stack of cards.

The cap of a champignon de Paris looks like a brown coconut with the husks removed.

I know I could just call them Parisian mushrooms, but isn't it more respectful to call them by their actual names? We're not going to start calling Portobello "beautiful port" (although they are... beautiful). I wouldn't like to be called "light of the beginning" (that is the actual translation of my full name) either.

As I ran my thumb over the cap and through the gills, I felt a sense of awe. This... thing was going to nourish my body. And knowing its history helps too.

I've come to appreciate produce as I cook more often. I know, I do not have much else to focus on anyway these days. But being aware of the sources of my food, how to flavour them and cooking with fewer ingredients have been such a huge source of joy to me.

A source of beauty. How beautiful.