Lately, I’ve found myself noticing the “layers” of the outdoors. Like the accumulated rippling form of a tree fungus in my photograph below. Or a sea shell’s calcifications. Or the rings of a recently cut white pine tree trunk. Ring around ring. Leaf by leaf. Layered like pages of a book. I never really thought about reading the natural world -literally and figuratively- like a book, until I spoke with Cal DeWitt. His two-books theology refers to his two most significant books. One is the Bible. The other is what he calls “the book of Creation.” He spoke to me of the peat that lies at the base of his marsh. Layers upon layers of peat, like pages of a book stretching back in time, recording the stories of history. Each page to be read and studied in much the same way he studies the bible, chapter and verse. Unlike Cal, for me the pages of Creation are not directly connected to the pages of the Bible other than through the people who have discovered, considered, and sustained rich meaning in both. I want to learn more about this meaning, an integral part of American identity with layers all of its own. How is it part of our divorce -and our connection- with the outdoors in the past, present, and future?
