neature
"This is the truth of the pervading intricacy of the world's detail: the creation is not a study, a roughed-in sketch; it is supremely, meticulously created, created abundantly, extravagantly, and in fine." –Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, p. 136
I'm grateful for this time of my life where I live near, practically in, the mountains. They are a daily reminder of the beautiful world created just for us, and their soaring heights remind me that I am part of something much larger and grander than my own little life. I love my backyard, the parks down the street, the winding roads into nearby canyons. I take my lunch break most often outside, with a picnic blanket and a book, and summer evenings are filled with walks around my neighborhood. When I'm feeling anxious, I can go on a run or bicycle ride to breathe fresh air and calm my thoughts. I usually end up at the same nearby park and stretch out on my back in the grass to feel the wind on my face and watch the shifting colors as night falls. The little valley where I live is a theater-in-the-round for mother nature, with her puffy white clouds, clear blue skies, blazing sunsets.
Last week I started reading Annie Dillard's 1974 Pulitzer Prize-winning memoir, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, on the recommendation from several friends. It has immediately become a favorite, with Dillard's striking prose and eye for the intricate details of nature. She is exultant in her account of a year at Tinker Creek, VA, reminding me in many ways of Thoreau's transcendentalist Walden (which I also love) and capturing in words many of my own feelings about nature, the natural world, and our Creator. Chapter 2 on "Seeing" was used by my freshman Biology 100 teacher, along with these verses in the Doctrine and Covenants, to form the basis of our study of "biology for life" as he termed it. I had hoped to track down that essay and imagine my delight when it came back to me as part of a larger work, this wonderful book.
I wish to see every corner of this wide, wonderful world. But even if I don't, my own little corner of the world is pretty great.
It's been a few years since I read Pilgrim At Tinker Creek (on the recommendation of a favorite Literature professor, who often spoke highly and enthusiastically of Annie Dillard), but I remember having a similar affection for it as a sort-of-sequel to Walden (the Transcendentalists are my favorite). I love that you mentioned the chapter on Seeing, specifically, since I think the most vivid memory I have of the book is the descriptions Annie Dillard gives of what it is like to see after having been blind. Something about the way the light filters through the trees? Am I misremembering? That's probably one I ought to revisit.
ReplyDeleteso much neature! stunning pics.
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