Hello Tree. I’m Katie. What’s Your Name?

In the midst of busy parenting, have you taken time to savor a poem recently? Me neither.

Recently however, I happened upon a thoughtful, insightful poem. Weeks later, I’m still thinking about it, savoring it , and wanting to share it.

The writer of this poem is grieving the loss of his father, who knew the names of many species of flowers, plants and trees and would enthusiastically point them out to his children. My father also had a loving intimacy with the natural world and spoke about it with such easy familiarity that I long assumed this was a trait all dads possessed. My dad is also gone now, and I miss having that Living Nature Guide among us. This poem speaks to that knowing, and has stirred in me the desire to introduce my children to nature by name.

The author of the poem just happens to be my brother-in-law, Linford Detweiler, who is a songwriter and musician. He and Karin Bergquist make up the band Over the Rhine.  He wrote this poem shortly after the sudden death of my father-in-law on March 15, 2008.

Here are some selected portions of Linford’s poem:  

Slowly the land reveals itself

To us.

We learn to recognize

The difference

Between a starling

And a female redwing

Blackbird.

Slowly the land reveals itself

To us.

 

We learn to recognize

The difference between

A honey locust

And a black locust,

A chokecherry

And a wild black cherry.

Slowly the land reveals itself

To us.

***

Walking through my old neighborhood

In the city,

My father once remarked,

Ah, this is my favorite tree:

The sweet gum.

He leaned on it for a few moments

As if leaning on an old friend.

It hadn’t occurred to me

That I should have a favorite tree.

***

I spoke recently with an intelligent,

Well-read American friend

(Who I like and admire)

About a trip he and his family

Made to Red River Gorge in Kentucky.

Sitting there in the springtime

Surrounded by

Vast stretches of deciduous forest

And the stern silences of steep cliffs,

It occurred to him and his family

That they weren’t

Quite sure what to do with themselves.

Eventually they got in their car

And felt relieved to go looking for a

Pizza Hut out along the highway.

 

It occurs to me now, that going to the woods

Without knowing any of the many names

Of its inhabitants

Must be about as interesting as going

To a beautiful library

Without knowing how to read.

 

How hard have we worked to acquire

Our fresh ignorance?

***

After Daddy died, I was surprised to find

I needed to know the names of trees,

The names of birds and weeds

Gone to seed.

John Detweiler could no longer

Do the naming for me.

 I spoke the names myself for once and found

New vocabulary for my wilted grief.

 

It just so happens

It was Red River Gorge

That became an open book to me.

It was there for the first time that I began

To call the towering

Tulip poplars by name.

***

The young beech trees cling to their

Leaves in the fall

And long after other trees are bare,

As you drive by the woods,

They will seem to twirl

Like girls in pale skirts

Dancing there.

***

I want my children to enjoy and pass on the loving relationship with nature their grandfathers savored.  This poem suggests to me that it’s time for first name introductions.

-posted by Donna Detweiler, who says that to read the entire poem go to  www.overtherhine.com and click on letter. There’s so much more that wouldn’t fit here.