Books of nature essays appeal to me. I enjoy contemplating other writer’s thoughts on their time outdoors and their observations of nature. I particularly enjoy succinct entries – those that I can enjoy with a single cup of coffee. And if the collected essays touch on a broad range of topics, so much the better.
In her book, The Comfort of Crows, Margaret Renkl does all those things – almost as if she wrote the collection just for me. The book consists of 52 essays – one for each week of the year – and are partitioned into groups of thirteen for each of the four seasons. The articles vary in length from one to five pages, and the topics are not esoteric, but rather cover natural things one might find in the typical suburban yard, neighborhood, or park – as suggested by the subtitle, A Backyard Year.
In fact, many of her observations deal with species that I typically leave out of our Footpaths essays for being too common – Crows, Mockingbirds, Northern Cardinals, and Robins for example – the photographer admonishes me for that judgement regularly. Renkl’s observations are detailed, looking at relationships between plants, plants and animals, and often between herself and nature. Her writing is descriptive, about colors – the red of Cardinal Flower, or the purple of Pokeweed berries, and sounds – the joy of bird song or the chorus of crickets.
But the essays are not just about nature. At times what she saw in nature was a metaphor for what we humans experience in life: change, surprise, time passing, loss, and love. As I am well into the fall of my life, I saw recognition and understanding in those comparisons.
There are three items included throughout the book that are bonuses and add to the enjoyment and engagement for the reader. First, each essay is accompanied by an illustration, 53 in total including the cover art work, by the author’s brother Billy Renkl – creative, colorful, and detailed.
Second, appearing episodically throughout the book are even shorter essays, mostly just paragraphs in fact, titled “Praise Songs”, on specific topics. As someone who grooms his garden for wildlife, this was one of my favorites.
Pawpaw trees don’t bear fruit for years. The saplings I’ve planted are a long way from feeding the opossums, foxes, squirrels, raccoons, and birds I planted them for, but even now their leaves could feed the caterpillars of the zebra swallowtail butterfly, just as the pokeweed leaves feed the caterpillars of the giant leopard moth long before the pokeberries are ripe enough to feed the birds. I have never seen a zebra swallowtail butterfly in this yard, or a giant leopard moth, either, but I know the leopard moths are here by the holes in the pokeweed leaves. If ever holes should appear in the pawpaw leaves, too, you will hear my shouts of delight and know the cause of my rejoicing.
Finally, preceding many essays, was a short quote from another writer, some famous, many not, that were for me contemplative thoughts, usually on the topic of the forthcoming essay.
It’s almost impossible to think about nature without thinking about time.
– Verlyn Klinkenborg, The Rural Life
I thought of these as an introduction to other writers that I should consider adding to my reading list.
I had borrowed this book from the library to read on a road trip – something to while away the hours in the passenger seat. But soon after I started it, I realized that this was a book that I would have preferred to savor over the course of a year – as the timeline for the unfolding of the essays is set up – rationing the experience to allow for timely seasonal appreciation. Place the book on an end table and visit it once a month, reading four to five essays at a time, corresponding to the time of the year you are in. Due to the quality of the writing, it would be a test of self control, but also an incentive to experience nature in all four seasons. There is an unstated directive to slow down and truly observe what is around you.
My conclusion – this is the ideal Christmas gift for yourself or a nature lover in your life. They could start the new year contemplating the essays associated with nature in winter – a literary equivalent of garden seed catalogues. Then as spring rolls around they can read the essays on the spring ephemeral wildflowers and rebirth of the landscape. For me, the summer essays are meant to be enjoyed on the porch or in the garden. And finally, I think the autumn entries would have an added sense of place, if read in the low light of autumn, with the musk of fallen leaves in the air.
I do not remember exactly how I fell upon this book, or sought it out, but I am glad I did. And I suspect that I will reread it in the future, because books like this never go out of season.
I agree with your thoughts. I thought it was a great book.