Thought: if distance is the soul of the beautiful, our "revelation" of the beauty of Nature, Nature as art, came quite recently according to M. McLuhan who says that when new mediums come into play, they use old mediums as content. So we disengaged from the anangke of Nature, our tufted hair and its grass still brothers, sisters down deep, but over there, and we found leisure to contemplate, and a question mark started to curve the foursquare landscape.

Still, some might trace the esthetic of Nature to the stomach: fecund nature implies plenty to eat. But let me carry that further: what might plenty to eat imply? It might imply leisure to contemplate, and the revelation of beauty. Beauty in that case might be hung on the line of "satisfaction," a rare if not extinct animal in the corporatist consumerist West, or, perhaps, the corporatist consumerist World.

Satisfaction in Nature across a space of fresh air, say in summer! But then there's more. "Surplus." Natural "overflow," Participation. If we are a pond, it finally starts to go tranquil, having been revved all its life by the industrial system's demands against the child soul. And then we see the silt-covered shapes down at the bottom; old branched logs left behind and forgotten little children, tools, toys... and passageways to mysteriums.

The very rich's jaws break next yawn, fantasy-bonded to a counterfeit tit. Nature rocks the convalescent Adam in its profound cradle of open air, blue sky, perfume, distance. He wants to get out and paint strokes in the world.