#228: The Derelict Greenhouse
What beauty is there in the broken?
Here is a broken object, an object still in existence, but abandoned and not fulfilling its original purpose. Or is it?
It seems ironic that this structure — a glass building constructed to house plants, keep them warm, and encourage growth — even when broken beyond use, might still be full of greenery.
I wonder at its strange beauty, this beauty of dereliction, of an object not functioning as intended and yet still, somehow, beautiful.
Perhaps it is not the greenhouse itself that is beautiful. Perhaps it is the autumn creeping in its cracks, the golden ruddy browns excusing the smashed glass. I wonder, will it seem quite so beautiful when the trees are bare again?
Not everything stays perfect forever, and though we live in a society that craves the newest, most up-to-date, highest-functioning objects, we might do well to take some time to appreciate the broken.
I’m sure we all have at least some broken items we treasure. I have a soft toy, grotty and balding, that I will never willingly part with. These items are kept and loved because of their histories, the memories they evoke. They are beautiful because, with the strange affection humans can have for objects, we love them.
This greenhouse, however, holds no such associations for me, and yet, walking by the side of a canal, I spotted its smashed panes and was drawn to it. Maybe its brokenness is a reminder that everything ends, that humanity’s mark on the earth, even in its large physical structures, is only a temporary fixture compared to the vastness of time.
The beauty of dereliction is the beauty of facing the reality that nothing is permanent, that it’s okay when our neat little lives and perfect little homes somehow break. This is nature, and in the end, it is still beautiful.
