The Most Beautiful Thing Ever Written

I asked Artificial Intelligence (Chat  GPT) this: “ What is the most beautiful thing ever written?”

This is how Chat GPT responded: “Some might find Shakespeare's sonnets exquisite, while others might be moved by the simplicity and profundity of haiku poetry. The poetic imagery of Pablo Neruda's love sonnets or the philosophical depth of works like Kahlil Gibran's "The Prophet" also hold immense beauty for many. Ultimately, beauty in writing is in the eye of the beholder.”

I had previously asked myself the same question and rather quickly landed on my own answer. My answer is precise and simple. The most beautiful thing ever written is available to the poor as readily as the wealthy. It’s quick, recyclable, and is written anew each and every day by someone. It goes like this: “I love you!”

—Mitchell Hegman

The Bucket

 After successfully getting the sprinkler system running properly down at the lake, I used a 5-gallon bucket (with water dipped from the lake) to water a few stray trees. I probably like buckets a bit more than I should. I use them for storage, for hauling things, and sometimes employ them as temporary tables and stands.

As I used the bucket to carry water down at the lake, I thought about another bucket I had down there some fifteen or so years ago. Upon arriving at the lakeshore one weekend, I found a couple teenage kids, a boy and a girl, fishing off my dock. Beside them on the dock sat a bucket I always had handy at the nearby pavilion. A couple perch flicked about in water within the bucket as I approached the kids.

“Are you guys from one of the cabins next door?” I asked.

“Yep,” responded the boy.

“Fish are biting a little?”

“Yep.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I don’t mind if you fish from my dock. All I ask is that you leave my bucket here after you use it.”

After my chat with the kids, I mowed the lawn, which was my entire reason for dropping down to the lake. As soon as I finished mowing, I bid farewell to the kids. A few days later, on my next visit to the lakeshore, I found myself without a bucket. The kids had failed me. I thought about this as I watered yesterday. I must admit, I am not yet over the loss of that bucket.

Buckets In My Garage

—Mitchell Hegman

A Spectacularly Bad Day

Yesterday, I had a spectacularly bad day, a day filled with failures. When trying to fire up my lakeside sprinkler system for the season, I broke a plastic fitting. Wanting to finish the project right away, I dashed into town to find a replacement fitting. Following is the condensed version of how it went from there:

1. After scouring two stores, I found two fittings that would work to replace what broke.
2. At the checkout, I discovered I had left my credit card at home.
3. I drove away empty-handed and returned an hour later with means to buy the parts.
4. I drove back home and tried again to get the sprinkler system going.
5. A second part failed after I attempted to fire up a zone manually.
6. Giving up on the lake project, I reined in my mess for the day.
7. Later, when I took a shower, the seal at the base of the shower door fell apart.

Today is a new day. I will happily accept any small victory I am given.

—Mitchell Hegman

Backyard Geology

Jasper and agate are varieties of chalcedony, which is a form of microcrystalline quartz. Structurally, they share similarities due to their common composition but they differ in their appearance and formation.

Jasper typically appears as opaque, dense, and often colored by various mineral impurities. Its structure consists of tightly packed microcrystalline quartz grains, often intergrown with other minerals like iron oxides, which give it its distinctive colors and patterns.

Agate, on the other hand, is often characterized by a banded appearance. It forms in concentric layers within cavities of rocks, such as volcanic rocks or sedimentary formations. These layers are composed of alternating microcrystalline quartz and other minerals.

There is also a less cerebral, “backyard” way to tell the difference between jasper and agate. If you place a light behind your specimen and you can see light pushing through it, then it’s agate; if the specimen blocks light, you are looking at jasper.

Backyard Geology Test

—Mitchell Hegman

Polychrome Jasper

Over the weekend, I attended the Helena Mineral Society’s annual Mineral and Fossil Show at the Civic Center – the “Rock Show,” as it's colloquially known. Over the last twenty or so years, I have missed but a handful of these shows. When I was a boy of seven or eight, my uncle Stack took me to my first such show, hooking me in for a lifetime.

As a kid, I spent 90% of my time hunting for collectible rocks while I traipsed about. I scoured alleys, vacant fields, along and in the creek – virtually anywhere I walked. I can fairly say my fascination with rocks has diminished little. I still return home from my hikes with rocks in my pockets. The same goes for the Rock Show – I always buy one or two specimens.

This year, I found myself dazzled by polychrome jasper from Madagascar. Jasper is not particularly uncommon; it forms when silica-rich solutions flow through fractures in rocks, depositing layers of silica that incorporate impurities like iron oxides and organic material. Over time, these layers solidify under pressure and heat, resulting in the distinctive colors, patterns, and textures characteristic of jasper. While jasper is found worldwide, polychrome jasper from Madagascar stands out for its exceptional beauty and rarity.

Polychrome Jasper

Polychrome Jasper

The Rock Show Crowd

—Mitchell Hegman

An Old Number

As I poked around the house picking up a few stray items, I noticed how my right hand ached a little and was not fully cooperating with me. This is something that happens to me from time to time—a result, I suppose, of my nearing antique status relative to my age. If I were a car, I suspect I would be one of those old numbers with windows in the back that don’t roll all the way down.

—Mitchell Hegman

Reptile

Emerging from the rock era of the 1960s and 1970s, I didn’t find a lot that pleased me regarding popular music in the 1980s. The disco era had wounded me deeply, and I found most of the ascending “big hair bands” without significant talent and their songs vacuous. Guns N' Roses, the Pretenders, and a handful of other bands did a lot to ease my pain and give me hope. One Australian group, The Church, produced a couple of songs that I consider the best of the entire decade. Their song "Reptile" reached deep into me from the first few bent and crying notes on the guitar. This is simple, stripped-down rock music. No slick production tricks to be found. Good stuff.

Today, I am sharing "Reptile."

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6Mx5xKOMAk