*A Wilder Time: Notes from a Geologist at the Edge of the Greenland Ice. William E. Grassley, 2018.
A lyrical book that provides an account of a geologic expedition to gather evidence for a 1.8 Ga collision between continents that resulted in a series of shear zones in western Greenland. Also important for providing evidence that plate tectonics has been going on for a long time, something that has been contested. Content is quite interesting, but I also appreciate it for its lyrical writing about landscape and geology, which is this focus of my “LS” project.
Here are some passages I really like:
Glistening, succulent, resting in a color just this side of white, the mud was irresistible. Kneeling down and slowly pushing my fingers into it, I wondered how deep it might be. Weirdly, I could see my fingers penetrate the top fraction of an inch, but the muck was so fine and so water-saturated, so perfectly balanced with the air temperature that there was no resistance or sensation. As I plunged my arm deeper, it was like pushing through a magical wall into a different realm, a place where everything was alien and imaginary.
Half an inch below the gray-white surface of clays, a fluid, organic black ooze glistened on my fingers. With the protective membrane of clay broken, the underlying, thriving biology flooded the air with the sulfurous aroma of its complex, primitive world.
ibid., p 123
The embodiment here, the thrusting of the fingers into the white mud, and the movement into the deeper layers, really makes this passage work. The breaking of the membrane, and the sulfurous aroma really complete this.
As my face came within inches of the ground, I was suddenly awash in layers of sweet flower scents. As I rested lightly on the surface, the smell of dozens of blossoms I hadn’t noticed engulfed me. Arctic poppy and white Arctic bell-heather were interspersed among mountain sorrel, hairy lousewort, purple saxifrage, and mountain avens. I was awash in a botanical sea, carried into an unexpected world.
ibid. 130-131
For a moment, the birds were forgotten and my attention focused on identifying individual scents from different flower species, but the complex mix of fragrances eluded me. The smells came and went, as though wafting over the ground in waves and streams, riding the will of the gentle, wandering breeze.
Once again, embodiment makes a big difference. And that this experience is also a surprise — he got down on the ground to try to see ptarmigan chicks hidden in the grass — adds to the experience. And finally, noticing the individual scents of flowers, and imagining its movement in waves and streams adds yet another layer to this description.
When the stream entered the sea, it floated as a freshwater tongue on the cool density of salt water. The result was a layer of fresh water several inches deep flowing across the bay on the back of the sea. The interface between the fresh water and the salt water was a boundary of contrasting densities, mixing in small gyres and tiny internal waves. The difference in temperatures and compositions of the fluid masses bent the light reflected from the bottom, distorting the patterns, twisting the colors.
ibid., p. 135-136
I reached over the side and put my fingers into the freshwater. As they moved down a few inches, my fingers penetrated the slithering boundary layer. Painlessly, I watched as flesh disassembled into a dance of swirling abstractions, my fingers becoming nothing I knew.
While I pulled out these three passages as favorites, it wasn’t until I gathered them here that I noticed that they all had to do with embodiment, and moving a part of one’s body (the hand and arm in two cases, and the head in the other), into a small scale ‘layer’ of the world, and being able to sense and see things that would have otherwise gone unnoticed.