There seems to be a common perception in nature of what is beautiful, across organism boundaries, from plants to insects to birds to us. This is best understood by looking at how nature designs her handiwork when her purpose is to attract, as drawing a pollinator to a flower, or a female bird to her prospective mate.

Flowers are adorned with rich colors and designs to get the pollinator close, then to direct them to the pistil and or stamen. But the flowers are not only attractive to insect and bird pollinators: We also recognize their deep natural beauty.

The plumage of male birds is used to attract prospective mates. In making these birds attractive nature has adorned them with colors and designs that the female birds appreciate. And these same male birds are to us among the most beautiful creatures in nature: the male peacock, the red cardinal, the bird of paradise, the western tanager.

And simarily, birds who sing to establish their territory and to attract mates have produced some of the most pleasant sounds known to man. They become better singers as they age and get more experienced. Again, what nature has designed to be beautiful to birds, is also beautiful to us.

New born mammals have cute round heads and big curious eyes and stubby chubby bodies. I read that there may have been selection for this cuteness in nature, by causing their parents to develop a stronger bond towards their lovable offspring. And we share in the loving of these baby raccoons, foxes, rabbits, or wolves.

I would be in error if I did not bring into this discussion the heartstopping beauty of females of our species: natural, unadorned, clear eyed and soft skin attractiveness, that is complemented by and surpasses the beauty of wildflowers and mountains and birdsong.

When I walk on these early spring mornings at the cusp of dark to dawn, the air is filled with the melody of robins and chickadees and song sparrows. These are songs of territory, of passion, of rejoicing in another day of life. I listen to these morning songs, and they initiate the start of my new day as well.

When the white frost covered stalks of meadow brome are lite up by the new sun, when there is mist floating off of the lake and a mirror reflection of the cottonwood in the pond, it is not a coincidence that I am overcome from the peace and beauty of the wild morning. The day to day artistry of nature puts to shame most of what man can accomplish, perhaps because its source is near the heart of the divine.

I am a better person when I make appreciation of God's artwork a daily habit.