21
degrees Fahrenheit
Feels
like 6 degrees Fahrenheit
When
you’re pregnant, your time is measured in weeks. This method of time tracking creates
the illusion that time is moving slowly and in an orderly fashion. Rather than
only a short-sounding nine months, you have the luxury of approximately 40
weeks to prepare as best you can for something that will change your life
forever. Change is happening, my ballooning belly is evidence, but it seems to
be happening in slow motion. The same can be said about the four seasons. When
the part of the earth I live in is in the peak of a season, it is hard to
imagine how my environment could be any different. When it feels like 6 degrees
Fahrenheit, as it does today, I cannot seem to recall what last summer’s weeks
of over 90 degree Fahrenheit heat felt like. As I explore my backyard today, I
try to recall the oppressive heat, but the dry, cold air is too real. It’s hard
to believe that in 14 weeks my first baby is due and my backyard will be
vibrant with all the colors of the rainbow. Still, a lot of unseen magic or miracles
(depending on your stance, I’m open to both) must happen before these things
become tangible.
One
of my goals for my backyard is to actually know what is growing back here. The
continuous dusting of snow that we’ve been receiving, in addition to the fascinating
but no-so-helpful field guides I checked out from the public library (Pennsylvania Trees & Wildflowers: an Introduction
to Familiar Species by James Kavanaugh, Bicentennial
Trees of Allegheny County, and Western
Pennsylvania All-Outdoors Atlas & Field Guide) have left me struggling to
identify what I suspect to be the most common trees and shrubs in my backyard.
I feel like a failure. I feel like the student Terry Tempest Williams gently mocks in
her book, Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place, who excitedly describes
a seemingly exotic bird only to find out it is a starling, a common bird that
is part of the everyday landscape. My husband is out here with me and offers to
tell me what many of the trees and plants are but I feel like I need to do this
myself. I want to learn to use the field guide; I want the pleasure of learning
something for myself. Maybe because as my daughter grows inside me and I’m
becoming more reliant on his help around the house (I can’t lift heavy things,
I’m not as quick to my feet or up the stairs as I used to be, I take a lot of
naps) that I want to do this myself even more than I normally would. Or maybe
it is that I realize how ignorant I am about the natural world. It is this
apathy towards learning about nature and how we impact our natural world that
has lead to so much destruction. I don’t want to perpetuate that apathy in
myself or even worse, in my daughter.
I
have requested A Field Guide to Eastern Trees: Eastern United States and Canada, Including
the Midwest by George A. Petrides and The Sibley Guide to Trees, which I understand to be much better
suited to amateurs like me, at least according to a review
of tree guides written by Steve Nix, a professional forester. I’m picking
them up this week. I'm looking forward to putting some names to faces in my own
backyard.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteLovely post, Amy Lee. Max is a a bit of a tree expert (and many other things), and through this I understand your desire to teach yourself. we have a PA trees book. I'll bring it in if I can find it.
ReplyDeleteThere's a powerful sense here that you are longing for a real and tangible connection to this place, much like the invisible connection your daughter has with your body.
ReplyDeleteIf it makes you feel any better, no matter how good I am at identifying animals, I remain utterly hopeless at trees and plants (aside from the most obvious ones). I just can't seem to master it.