Nige has always been much better than me at sticking with the small stuff; he remembers the names of butterflies, I don't.
Something else Nige and I have in common. Only I don't think such stuff is small. If you take a walk through a woods and all you see is trees - not beeches, maples, oaks (and better yet specific varieties of beech, oak, maple) - you're not really seeing the woods. That isn't just a flower at your feet; it's a yellow adder's tongue, for God's sake. As for listening to a bunch of "experts" bloviating on the bear market on PBS is about as worthwhile as stopping in to have Madame Zoomba read your palm.
Oh, and I must get Prospero's Cell. Durrell is underrated.
Unless I'm misreading you, I have to disagree. Knowing the names of things isn't required to appreciate them, necessarily - names are only intellectual markers (albeit that's one form of appreciation).
ReplyDeleteah, coincidence - I just picked up Durrell's Balthazar at a used bookstore. The bookseller was incredulous that I didn't want the other books in the 'Alexandria Quartet' but the truth is I just wanted to check out Durrell's sentences.
What I mean is that to know the individual is better than to know just the species and to know the species is better than to know just the genus. I know my lace maple in my backyard almost as if it were a person. Maybe it's because I write poetry, but names - precise names - have a magic for me. I don't want to be to told that something is a flower. I want to be told it's an ageratum. Doesn't the very sound of "lavender" give you a thrill?
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