The Washington Post, May 27th, 2007
I remember, as a child, learning from my mother how to discern the crest of the tufted titmouse, the rasping chatter of a house wren and the pendent nest of an oriole. Nature, to my mother, unfolded not as an undifferentiated blur of trees, flowers, birds and bugs but as a cascade of details. These details intrigued her for their effusion of shapes and colors. They intrigued her, too, for what they imparted of the complexity of life itself. Rachel Carson's writings convey this duality -- this love of nature both as art and function. She writes at once as poet and scientist. Through this blend ...
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