I was wading in the New River with my buddy Dustin and my kids. He had already explained the currents of the water and the best spots one might find a trout if he had a mind to. I had also learned the names of various plants and trees. He called the kids over, reached into the river and pulled up a rock. He pointed to the surface of the rock and identified little infantish bugs squirming about on it. If I had picked up that rock, I would not have seen them. He explained the amazingly brief life cycle of these tiny creatures and how they fit into the complex economy of river life. It was an interesting lesson of how much I don't see, because I don't know it's there and don't know how to look for it.
Well, my naturalist friend has launched a creative new website called "the birchbark letters." If you love the outdoors and reflections on God's creation, or if you just enjoy creative, thoughtful writing, you will enjoy "the birchbark letters."
Here's the intro of one of his posts:
"I clearly remember the day I became a man. Well, at least in my own mind. The wind whipped in from the north on that January day. The sky was raw, clouded, and very, very cold. The grass was brown and the apple trees in our backyard were barren, hunkered against the wind. I was 10, wearing a tri-cornered cap my grandparents had given me. A Patriot I was, born of the American Revolution, fighting the Redcoats beside the dog-lot. . . . "