Species of Noticing
Writing it down now
So we won't forget
Ooh, never enough paper
Never enough letters
So we won't forget"
- So We Won't Forget, by Khruangbin
A red breasted robin hopped close to the window, his beak picking through the foliage in search of breakfast. Seeing his autumn-hued feathers (rust red, almost burnt orange, with the rest of him brown but for his yellow beak) I recalled seeing flocks of them on the front lawn of my parent's home. The robins migrate south for the winter, so during that time of year it's not uncommon to see them descend upon the grass in search of food, or to hear them chirping among the trees.
I've always loved learning various species and being able to identify them by sight. Birds, butterflies, trees and flowers; any kind of living organism which I can learn and name grounds me more firmly to the earth. There is so much I don't know, so much I miss or pass over, so the small moments of recognition are sweet. There is a language of the earth between flowers and bees, water and tree roots, and so much more, a whole cycle of giving and taking, growing and dying which allows every living thing on earth to exist, including me. Too often I rush around, no thought to what I'm stomping underfoot or driving past or closing my windows to from indoors.
A few of my siblings are excellent at taking care of plants. They marvel over leaves with exquisite striations, opening my eyes to plants I previously simply thought of as green. Vines trail delicately from their hanging pots, leaves shoot upwards toward the sun, reaching for the light, and roots sometimes outgrow their terra-cotta home. When I've tried my hand at having indoor plants, I haven't seen much success, though I haven't given up yet. A place full of plants can feel enchanting to me, so I desire to keep learning. Until then, it's in the great outdoors when I can best pause and recognize species around me, noting, "That's a female juniper tree full of berries, that pink flower is a wild onion, that cedar waxwing bird loves to eat the red berries of yaupon hollies."
Those moments of recognition and naming feel holistic. They remind me of the wonder all around, and it is thorough, indelible, and grounding.
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