i’ve never been much of a naturalist in the clinical sense. i’ve always loved being outside, the beauty of rocks & birds & plants & clouds. i’ve marveled at geodes, written poems about trees, and am always getting up close & personal with flowers, but i’d never sought or retained many specific names.
is this a sign of growth, of age? a search for structure in the face of mortality? maybe it’s merely about continued learning, about examining the human schema, our imperfect categorizations, the reflection betrayed in narratives, how desperately we sort the world, name the world, fence the world... so as to (draw closer to/set ourselves apart from) the world.
at any rate, i want the names now. since returning fresh-eyed to the desert, i want to know the trees and flowers. i want to know stones, creatures, stars. names are (meaningless/powerful), multitudinous, contradictory, fascinating.
sharing a few of my recent faves:
artichoke agave (Parry’s agave)
cape aloe (bitter aloe; alligator jaw aloe)
desert ironwood (olneya tesota)
purple prickly pear (opuntia macrocentra)
apricot mallow (desert globemallow; mal de ojo; sore-eye poppy)
...and a fresh-inked declaration of love for my desert roots. (by the talented @lisacardenasart )
#bookishgirlgang #thelanguageofflowers #desertroots #whatsinaname #desertbotanicals #cactiofinstagram #nationalaudubonsociety #southwestlife