Monotropa uniflora, ghost plant, Indian
pipe, corpse plant
No real ghost plants exist on the hillside cul-de-sac. But what about all the
plant life I have no name for? I've decided to name these the true ghost
plants. An unseen thing cannot be seen until the mind has a context for that
thing. The act of searching, then, turns up ghosts.
Along the curve of the bluff our apartment is on, a wildflower with
peanut-shaped seed pods.
This semester has been an unveiling and
a covering. While nature moves in seasons, a student's life moves in semesters.
A semester is full of its own unique flowers, its own frosts, its own animals.
I have spent the past few months focusing on a quarter mile stretch of
hillside. Of course, I have missed much.
Like the ghost plant, I am colorless, transparent. Yes, this is a better metaphor.
I am restored to life, to color, as I discover more on this hillside. It is
like discovering a piece of myself I left behind so long ago I have forgotten,
when I learn about a plant, flower, or animal. A piece of my history is
remembered as I remember the hillside's history.
An unseen thing cannot be seen until the mind has a context for that thing. The act of searching, then, turns up ghosts.
ReplyDeleteThis idea intrigues me tremendously, seems an interesting possibility for a longer meditation on how history and context and place are intertwined.
Mel,
ReplyDeleteI'm definitely going to do one of my essays for my final paper on this flower. Also, throughout the week, I think I may continue to beef up this essay also. The idea is interesting to me too.