“About five years ago I saw a mockingbird make a straight vertical descent from the roof gutter of a four-story building. It was an act as careless and spontaneous as the curl of a stem or the kindling of a star. … The fact of his free fall was like the old philosophical conundrum about the tree that falls in the forest. The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.”
– pages 9-10, PATC
As she finishes the first chapter of Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard asks her readers to notice nature’s “extravagancies”—those wondrous, awesome things that exist and persist whether we notice them or not. In fact, the “extravagant gesture” of this world, Dillard suggests, “is the very stuff of creation…. The whole show has been on fire from the word go. I come down to the water to cool my eyes. But everywhere I look I see fire; that which isn’t flint is tinder, and the whole world sparks and flames.”
I have to confess—on an average day, bustling about kitchen and house, walking along cement sidewalks, even visiting bright blue or red playgrounds—I usually don’t see “sparks and flames.” I’m distracted by the quotidian, mundane nature of it all. This, despite the fact that there are still glorious spiders tucked in the eaves of houses. Ladybugs flit through the back garden. Dandelions sprout from sidewalk cracks. And the sweet laughter of my children streams from swing sets and slides.
And so Dillard urges us to go out, “to see what we can see.” To notice what we’ve overlooked. To seek out the extravagancies, the sparks and flames. We might not always know or understand all the whys and wherefores of life. But having a slightly fuller knowledge of the where is worthwhile in its own right.
This week’s outdoor challenge involved a glorious trip to the Sawtooths for me. It’s not a usual occurrence. But I had to share two of the trip’s delights, as they underline Dillard’s idea of extravagance to me.
As part of the day’s adventures, we hiked through the woods and over to a waterfall—both stunning. Then we trudged to the edge of a wetland, and saw an immense beaver’s dam. It was beautiful. The dam held back water in a perfect mirrored sheen, built up with countless twigs, sticks, and logs. Little rivulets slipped through the dam, allowing water to pool and puddle in the bank below. The beavers’ home stood thick and sturdy slightly downstream from the dam, a perfect little dome against the green ground and blue sky. Surrounding grassland was lush and green, home to countless plant, animal, and insect life. We didn’t catch sight of the beavers, but we feasted our eyes on their incredible handiwork. Such a sweet glory, tucked away from the world.
From there, we journeyed down river to a nearby hot springs. But just as we arrived and got settled in a warm pool, it began to rain, and my poor two-year-old began to cry. A friend pointed me toward a stream of perfectly warm water, pouring down from the rock face above us. And so my son and I waited out the storm, huddled in a covered crevice of the rock, comfortably warm in a shower of hot water. We were safe and cozy, hidden from the rain. My son cuddled close in my arms, calm and happy, tracing patterns on the granite rock face and catching drips of water in his chubby hands. We probably stood there for at least 20 minutes, completely silent, in awe of the quiet, the rush and splash of water, and the beauty of the rock. What could’ve been a miserable and dreary adventure turned into a quiet, wondrous moment.
Feel free to add your thoughts to our opening discussion thread on Tinker Creek! In the next several days, try to read the first 10 pages of Chapter Two, “Seeing.” (Up until the middle of page 27, if possible.) I’ll ask some discussion questions, and share more thoughts on Chapter Two, on Friday.
As for this week’s outdoor challenge: can you spot something “extravagant” and wondrous in your time outside this week? Try to journal about it, or to describe it in the comments, if you can. What helped you notice it? Why do you find it striking?
Cheers!
Gracy
I love that quote from Annie Dillard. It makes me think of Charlotte Mason and how passionate she was about little children being out of doors to notice all of nature--from the tiniest ant carrying back food to his nest, to the tallest oak tree in their backyard. She said that this kind of knowledge should point children back to their Creator who made it all.
Terrific