CASTING DEEP SHADE An Amble Inscribed to Beech Trees & Co. By C.D. Wright
C.D. Wright, renowned poet and essayist, completed “Casting Deep Shade” just before her sudden death in January of 2016. This posthumous book might have been read strictly as elegy, yet Wright, as if presciently marking a trail through the woods for future readers, came up with a sly signpost of a title as “pre-amble” to her work, briskly excluding melancholy even while taking stock of crimes against nature. The title is a trick or a kind of riddle. The gerund points to a “Macbeth”-like conspiracy of tree and human, each “throwing shade.” Here, for example, is Wright on privacy in an all-witnessing age: “For the moment, I can locate you, whosoever you are, or re-imagine you in a keystroke. I can see the tree that cast your lawn in deep shade when you were wearing a linen dress, a string of seed pearls, and no underpants.” You get her drift?
The book’s subtitle reaffirms the need to witness what briefly lives and breathes: “An Amble Inscribed to Beech Trees & Co.” “Amble” is how Wright describes her strategic moseying through forests, old-growth bowers and backyards, taking notes. Yet just as “ambling” trundles forward, “inscribed” stays still, denoting words written (or carved) on a surface, in witness. This shifting mediation between dark and light, velocity and stasis, poetry and root-based reporting, informs a style, a tour through what Wright refers to at one point, quoting Verlyn Klinkenborg, as an “arboretum of the mind.”
Wright’s amble began when she was commissioned, years ago, to write an essay on a single beech tree. She became entranced by beeches (and their fellow trees, their “Co.”), which led to decades of wide-ranging research, including interviews with naturalists, historians and arborists — sometimes even “interviews” with trees themselves. Her book could be read alongside Annie Proulx’s novel “Barkskins” and other recent literature that considers the complicated relationship between humans and trees.
Wright casts a familiar linguistic spell with her thinking-aloud genre-bending voice here: a signature elliptical “prosimetric” style. Yet her book serves a practical purpose too, as an approximation of a field guide (or eccentric “field homage”) to beeches and their world. “Casting Deep Shade” is less a conventional text than a facsimile of a tree’s growth outward — a cumulative chronology in rings of thought.
Wright’s tree-visitations are shadowed by the ubiquitous complaints of 21st-century “Thoreaus,” bereft among threatened forests and polluted waterways. Wright’s own righteous anger is aimed at the usual pestilent enemies of the natural world and ecological balance — parasitic insects or their human kin, “developers, apparatchiks, celebrities, lobbyists” — her zingers outdistancing predictable “green” rants.
“My approach is close to ceremonial,” Wright notes. “I go to pay my respects … palpitating heart in hand” even as she aims “not to anthropomorphize” her subjects. Yet she is most effective when she fails in this goal — as when she stands before arboreal wisdom, the unique communal welfare-consciousness of trees: “Mono-layered leafers like the beech avoid blocking out each other’s light by forming a jigsaw-like pattern to capture the light.”
This follows a previous humanizing impulse, spoken ringside: “A tree is a resilient fighter. Likewise poets, single mothers, and teachers.” Still, “We respirate, they transpirate.”
Tender too is the author’s imagination, inscribing her “humans were here” graffiti on a page that began as tree flesh. Writing is a thought-knife, carving into her readers’ consciousness. A sense of belonging to a larger collective vision reinforces Wright’s fragments, as they remain cryptic yet illuminating in the manner of nature itself, sharing secrets only with those who “read the leaves” closely. Thus Wright allows little direct sunlight on the narrating “I,” though she offers a series of pastoral snapshots from her childhood in the Ozarks — memories of growing into the soul of a poet.
From the intertwining anecdotes of the etymological, historical, botanical and political, Wright’s germinal thesis branches out with a bold statement that “minus the expectations, trees and humans do manifest a common gestalt.” What is it? In a typically learned and wide-ranging reference, Wright enlists Simone Weil to explain: “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.”
Rootedness gives trees the role of eternal witnessing. “I think of a witness tree,” Wright says, “as one that stood its ground, when something happened, possibly something no human was meant to see.”
Trees witnessed the peerless naturalist James Audubon painting his stunning portrait of “Passenger Pigeons”: two beautiful birds perched on a beech bough. In tender privacy, the male pigeon gently feeds a seed to the female. (Audubon’s precise color reproduction is included among many other extraordinary illustrations in this book, many of them photographs by Wright’s longtime collaborator Denny Moers.) After he lovingly painted the pair, as trees looked on, Audubon shot both birds.
In his “Ornithological Biography,” Audubon records a staggering massacre of thousands of passenger pigeons with similar remove, noting only that the birds will quickly replenish themselves. Passenger pigeons laid just one egg annually. They are now extinct.
We are “the next annihilating asteroid,” Wright warns, yet she urges humans of conscience to “carry it forward,” footnoting the naturalist David Lukas on the “theoretical immortality” of trees. Thus an ice age tree is thought to preserve its seeds under a “mother tree,” waiting for “the next climatic change.” What hope she offers comes from her own notes — and the famous observation (generally attributed to the Surrealist poet Paul Éluard, as it is here) that there is another world “inside this one.”
The inestimable sadness of Wright’s loss is mitigated, at least for me, by a vision I keep of her as a kick-ass Daphne — turning into a tree, as in the myth, but by her own choice, not a god’s coercion.
The final page of this book offers her departing bow to us all by way of one of the book’s dedicatees, the late poet and activist W. S. Merwin, whom Wright quotes: “On the last day of the world / I would want to plant a tree.”B:
阿弟六肖免费公开【她】【惊】【讶】【的】【看】【着】【他】，“【你】……【你】……”【林】【郗】【激】【动】，【大】【半】【天】【说】【不】【出】【话】【来】。 【陆】【权】【笑】【了】【笑】，【宠】【溺】【的】【看】【着】【她】，【伸】【手】【接】【过】【她】【手】【上】【的】【戒】【指】，【一】【直】【背】【在】【后】【背】【的】【手】【顺】【势】【捧】【出】【一】【束】【玫】【瑰】，【单】【膝】【下】【跪】，【深】【情】【的】【说】：“【林】【郗】，【你】【愿】【意】【嫁】【给】【我】【吗】？” “【对】【不】【起】，【让】【你】【久】【等】【了】，【今】【后】【我】【会】【努】【力】【做】【好】【一】【个】【丈】【夫】，【努】【力】【做】【好】【一】【个】【爸】【爸】，【只】【希】【望】【你】【给】【我】
“【或】【许】【见】【识】【一】【下】【他】【更】【多】【的】【能】【力】，【应】【该】【能】【想】【起】【来】【是】【在】【哪】【里】【见】【过】【的】。”【弗】【利】【沙】【分】【身】【眼】【中】【闪】【过】【一】【丝】【精】【芒】，【蹲】【下】【身】【体】，【手】【掌】【放】【在】【地】【上】。 “【主】【人】……”【仓】【助】【疑】【惑】【一】【声】，【表】【情】【很】【快】【变】【成】【惊】【讶】【的】【神】【色】。 【地】【上】【泛】【起】【蓝】【色】【的】【光】，【其】【中】【雷】【电】【闪】【烁】，【地】【上】【有】【个】【奇】【特】【的】【又】【没】【见】【过】【的】【图】【案】。 【随】【着】【弗】【利】【沙】【分】【身】【一】【声】【低】【喝】，【图】【案】【的】【中】【央】，【一】【道】
“【去】【南】【方】！”【方】【惜】【朝】【手】【指】【南】【边】【道】：“【去】【南】【方】~【去】【云】【巅】【大】【理】，【找】【一】【个】【叫】【温】【少】【观】【的】【人】。” “【温】【少】【观】？”【无】【情】【思】【索】~【口】【中】【回】【喃】【道】：“【他】？【是】【你】【以】【前】【的】【那】【个】【属】【下】？” 【方】【惜】【朝】【点】【点】【头】，【承】【认】【道】：“【是】【的】，【就】【是】【他】！” 【无】【情】【脸】【色】【犹】【豫】【道】：“【他】？【他】【会】【接】【纳】【我】【们】【吗】？【后】【来】【听】【说】【他】【和】【你】【闹】【翻】【了】？” 【无】【情】【很】【担】【心】，【她】【不】【知】【道】
【三】【个】【创】【始】【文】【明】【的】【行】【动】【虽】【然】【隐】【秘】，【却】【也】【瞒】【不】【过】【一】【直】【监】【视】【他】【们】【的】【华】【夏】【文】【明】，【甚】【至】【在】【他】【们】【内】【部】【早】【就】【打】【下】【了】【坚】【实】【的】【内】【应】。 【晋】【升】【中】【级】【文】【明】【的】【方】【法】【本】【来】【就】【是】【错】【误】【的】，【三】【个】【联】【合】【起】【来】【的】【文】【明】【种】【族】【在】【经】【过】【一】【些】【列】【的】【晋】【升】【仪】【式】【后】，【只】【能】【可】【耻】【的】【晋】【升】【失】【败】【了】，【他】【们】【还】【以】【为】【是】【准】【备】【的】【不】【够】【充】【分】【想】【着】【再】【试】【一】【次】。 【这】【时】【华】【夏】【文】【明】【的】【布】【置】【完】【成】【了】阿弟六肖免费公开【世】【界】【杯】【小】【组】【赛】【第】【三】【轮】，【法】【国】【队】【对】【阵】【丹】【麦】【队】，【本】【场】【比】【赛】【将】【直】【接】【决】【定】【小】【组】【的】【头】【名】【和】【次】【名】。【同】【时】【也】【将】【直】【接】【决】【定】【谁】【对】【阵】【克】【罗】【地】【亚】，【因】【此】【本】【场】【比】【赛】【较】【为】【受】【球】【迷】【们】【关】【注】。
“【痛】。” “【无】【法】【形】【容】【的】【痛】。” “【水】，【给】【我】【水】。”【叶】【浩】【不】【知】【道】【自】【己】【沉】【睡】【了】【多】【久】，【只】【知】【在】【睁】【开】【眼】【的】【那】【一】【霎】【那】，【脑】【袋】【仿】【佛】【被】【人】【用】【手】【从】【中】【间】【撕】【裂】【开】【了】【一】【般】，【旋】【即】【就】【感】【到】【一】【股】【干】【干】，【想】【喝】【水】【的】【欲】【望】【从】【喉】【咙】【处】【传】【来】。 【虚】【弱】【的】【呼】【喊】【声】，【正】【好】【让】【互】【相】【推】【托】【让】【谁】【去】【休】【息】【的】【三】【女】【听】【见】【了】。 “【小】【浩】，【你】【你】【终】【于】【醒】【了】，【可】【担】
【和】【所】【有】【的】【下】【料】【类】【制】【作】【厂】【家】【一】【样】。 【服】【装】【厂】，【它】【也】【有】【这】【样】【的】【一】【个】【固】【定】【流】【程】。 【制】【图】，【放】【样】，【定】【版】，【下】【料】，【拼】【接】，【加】【工】，【成】【品】，【检】【验】，【包】【装】，【入】【库】，【出】【厂】，【销】【售】。 【服】【装】【的】【设】【计】【稿】，【一】【般】【由】【服】【装】【设】【计】【师】【完】【成】。 【但】【这】【个】【年】【代】【的】【中】【国】，【基】【本】【上】【没】【有】【服】【装】【设】【计】【师】【的】【概】【念】。 【核】【心】【思】【想】【一】【个】【字】，【抄】。 【仿】。 【拿】【着】【别】
【现】【在】【限】【制】【永】【夜】【军】【领】【推】【进】【速】【度】【的】，【并】【不】【是】【东】【海】【舰】【队】【的】【反】【抗】【对】【他】【们】【造】【成】【了】【多】【大】【威】【胁】，【而】【是】【他】【们】【自】【身】【的】【消】【化】【速】【度】——【他】【们】【需】【要】【兼】【顾】【的】【战】【场】【太】【大】，【分】【兵】【太】【厉】【害】，【登】【船】【部】【队】【稍】【显】【不】【足】。 【东】【海】【舰】【队】【不】【是】【不】【想】【从】【朵】【瑙】【江】【上】【撤】【出】【去】，【而】【是】【不】【能】。 【永】【夜】【军】【领】【的】【布】【局】【实】【在】【是】【太】【周】【全】【了】。 【等】【到】【他】【们】【开】【始】【往】【后】【撤】【的】【时】【候】，【方】【才】【发】【现】，【朵】