Book Name: Gathering Moss
Writer: Robin Wall Kimmerer
My first cognizant memory of “science” (or was it religion?) comes from my
kindergarten class, which met in the old Grange Hall. We as a whole
hurried to press our noses to the cold windows when the main inebriating
chips of snow started to fall. Miss Hopkins was too astute an educator to
attempt to keep down the fervor of five-year-olds on the event of the
principal day off, out we went. In boots and gloves, we assembled around
her in the delicate twirl of white. From the profound pocket of her jacket,
she took an amplifying glass. I’ll always remember my initial gander at
snowflakes through that perspective, spangling the wooly sleeve of her
naval force blue coat like stars in a 12 PM sky. Amplified ten times, the
unpredictability and detail of a solitary snowflake shocked me totally. How
could something as little and common as snow be so entirely delightful? I
was unable to quit looking. Indeed, even now, I recall the feeling of
plausibility, of the puzzle that went with that first impression.
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