An inventory of all the things happening in nature is like a recitation of historical facts. And, Like events in human history, events in nature are lost or do not make sense to me unless I recreate them in my mind.
Memory and imagination tell the stories, fill in the setting with details of sound, taste, texture and color and odor. Memory and imagination connect the stories to other stories.
So It seems to me the meaning of natural history, like the meaning of human history, depends on my reenactment or replaying of what I saw happening or of what I believe happened.
Without the thinking about or the telling about what has occurred, things lose their place, become disconnected, make no sense.
So I go back over what has taken place in the woods and garden. I relive as best I can the steps that brought me here.
I review their sequences that I pull from underneath the overgrowths of previous events. The sediment of passage dissolves so quickly. Natural science saves only the facts.
It is I who must move beyond names and dates, support imperfect memory and insufficient data with fantasy.
I have to fill in the past with my own truth. No one else can do that for me.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will's Almanack. I'll be back next week with more notes on time and space. In the meantime, make history: tell yourself the story of this summer.
