The game of identification depends on how you play it. If it becomes an end in itself, I count it of little use. It is possible to compile extensive lists of creatures seen and identified without ever once having caught a breath-taking glimpse of the wonder of life. If a child asked me a question that suggested even a faint awareness of the mystery behind the arrival of a migrant sandpiper on the beach of an August morning, I would be far more pleased than by the mere fact that he knew it was a sandpiper and not a plover.
       Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. Whatever the vexations or concerns of their personal lives, their thoughts can find paths that lead to inner contentment and to renewed excitement in living. Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of the birds, the ebb and flow of the tides, the folded bud ready for spring. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.
       - Rachel Carson, The Sense of Wonder

. . .

I try to select, for these Pause for Beauty posts, passages that have the potential to change the course of a human life if one gave them time and attention. Attention is scarce in our world. It is like Georgia O’Keefe said,

“Nobody sees a flower — really — it is so small it takes time — we haven't time — and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.”

“Nobody” is an exaggeration, but most people are in too much of a hurry to offer attention to a flower, to the ebb and flow of tides, to the migration of birds, to the folded bud ready for spring. In a hurry to go where? No idea, just in a hurry.

Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the Earth are never alone or weary of life.