What's in a Name

What changes when you know the name of something/someone?

There is a trail near my home called the Shoreline trail. As the name implies, it follows the shoreline of the enormous ancient lake Bonneville, of which very little remains (the Great Salt Lake). I love this trail. It’s a bit of a climb to get to it, but my not-yet-two-year-old can do it, so that tells you it’s not that hard. Then it goes parallel with the mountainside and into the canyon. The part I love most is when the trail meets the canyon. You come around the turn and the wind and the sun grab you and wrap around you like a giant bear hug from God. It is one of the best ways to start the day and absolutely worth rolling out of bed early to enjoy. Anyway, that’s a bit besides the point. What I really wanted to write about today is the importance of a name.

Last summer when I started hiking this trail more often, I noticed how many different plants there were lining the trail. I didn’t know any of them, except maybe morning glory and sage brush. I didn’t think too much about it until I came across an app called PictureThis, which allows you to take a picture of a plant and it will scan its archives and tell you what that plant is (there is also one for insects and one for birds). I started using it on the plants by the trail, learning one or two new ones each time I hiked. Something I realized when I went to hike again the other day was how much I was looking forward to seeing the plants. I know, I know. That sounds really…weird. No, I don’t get out enough. Yes, I spend very little time in the “real” world and I need more human friends. But goodness, have you seen any yarrow lately? It’s darling. How about blue flax? So ridiculously cute. Don’t get me started on salsify! They’re like a dandelion, only much bigger, therefore even more fun. And you want a quick way to smile? Say “alfalfa” out loud. I love to check milkweed for butterfly eggs, and my favorite, the thistle, just started blooming this week. When you know the name of something, it becomes more significant to you. I was going to say “at least to me” but I think it may be a universal truth. Knowing a name can’t help but make something stand out. If you see a whole crowd of people and you know the name of one person, that person is going to stand out in that crowd to you. I love seeing what will bloom next. I only saw the sego lilies twice, same with the evening primrose. They were so brief! The mule’s ears are almost done blooming, but the curlycup gumweed is on its way! I know their names, so I watch for them, I wait for them, and I say hello. Yes, I know! It’s a little weird! But it’s also fun and comforting. There is so much about this world that I don’t know. I don’t know who or what to trust out there anymore. I don’t know if what I hear is true, or someone just trying to manipulate me. I don’t know if the projections for our future on this planet are accurate or someone just fear mongering. I don’t know! I do my best to learn and decipher, I pray about things, but some things are just…unknowable. You know what is knowable? Names.

When I was thinking about this, I decided to learn a few more names of things I didn’t recognize. It was kind of funny, kind of concerning, and quite thought provoking what happened next. There was this darling yellow flower I’d noticed a few times before and decided to look it up. The app analyzed my photo and spat out “alfalfa.” What?? I thought alfalfa was purple! Looking closer for about three seconds made me feel so silly. Same shape flower, same shape leaf, and even growing not just next to, but in the middle of, the purple alfalfa. How interesting that it seemed like a completely different plant at first glance. Another interesting one was a plant that had obviously gone to seed. PictureThis told me it was dyers woad. I know dyers woad, I can spot it from a mile away. But I’d never put it together with its seeding stage. And once again, it was growing among the flowering woad, and had much the same structure, and there were even some plants that were in between flower and seed. I probably could have put two and two together if I’d just taken another minute to observe and look closer. And finally, I checked on a little plant that looked like it was about to flower. The app said it was smooth sumac. It was another forehead slapper. It was growing at the foot of the sweet little shrub/tree that I had already learned to identify as smooth sumac. It was just a tiny version of it, so again, at first glance, I didn’t recognize it.

I need more time to really sit with these observations and learn from them, but what I’ve pieced together so far is this:

Color, age, and size mean very little. You are who you are, despite any of those things. 

If I put a name to something or someone, I become more invested in them. They become significant. 

As far as nature goes, knowing the names of the plants, animals, and insects helps me feel more rooted in this world. It is something knowable, something actual, something that is simply true and needs no deliberation or analysis.

Is there a plant you see often but you don’t know its name? Or better, a person? See if you can learn their name and see what happens. I tried it today with a woman on the Shoreline trail. Her name is Mary, and now that is one less stranger and one more friend in my world.