We went for a ride on the motorcycle this afternoon. We rode past fields of corn and soybeans and amber waves of grain. Everything was green and the sky was blue. It was the perfect temperature, warm enough for the wind to keep me comfortable.
While riding on the back of the bike I can see so much more of my surroundings than I can from the inside of a car. I am constantly swiveling my head, trying to see as much as possible. I often think of how when I see things, I name them in my head. Blue spruce, Queen Anne's Lace, white oak, sugar maple, sweet pea, geranium, and so on. Most people don't know the names of the trees and plants they see on a daily basis. Do they think to themselves "more green things" or do they not even notice the green things at all? Do they just take them so for granted that the plants never even cross their minds? I can't imagine going through life like that. It bothers me that I can no longer identify all the things I could in college, and let's not even talk about the Latin names that I've forgotten.
2 comments:
Don't I know it. I used to know the names of all the sharks. Now, whenever Hubs asks me, I say, "it's a reef shark of some sort." Ugh.
I do and feel the same thing.
And when ever I learn something new, I suddenly see it everywhere--it was as if it didn't exist before.
Now though, I see things, and I say to myself, "I used to know what that was."
At least I still see them, they haven't yet disappeared--or--maybe some of them have, and I haven't' even noticed.
Remember how important naming was to Madeline L'Engle?
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