AtD translation: a busy development of small trailside shapes tumbling . . .

[Joseph Tracy]

Just wanted to say that Monte’s understanding seems just right to me too.
> On Jan 14, 2018, at 7:39 AM, Mike Jing <gravitys.rainbow.cn at gmail.com> wrote:
> 
> What about this line specifically:
> 
> "a busy development of small trailside shapes tumbling in what had to be deliberately arranged precision"
> 
> What is it referring to? Is it the herbs, or something else entirely?
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> 
> On Sun, Jan 14, 2018 at 7:26 AM, Monte Davis <montedavis49 at gmail.com> wrote:
> That passage (69-72) is one of my favorite in all Pynchon. I wrote in 2007: "Like Annie Dillard in the ecstatic _Pilgrim at Tinker Creek_ and _Holy the Firm_, Pynchon here insists that we *look* at every leaf, at the bridal secrets in the moss, at evanescent sparks when the iron wheel-rim and the rock and the shadow in the rut are all just so. If this be exile [from Dally's "princess" memories of the White City], make the most of it... And somehow it isn't exile any more, it's a home three states high and wide. Years are going by. This density of detail, these undescribed exchanges with the wildcrafters, are adding up: they're a childhood, a stroboscopic study of the heart of a continent -- and a Dally who will grow into a queenly confidence that's all in the details. Where does that come from? Right here."
> 
> The lines you quote are describing the making of an American, from the ground up.Call it another version of "Roots." 
> 
> https://i4.imaiges.com/wallpaper/771/464/835/leaves-meadow-nature-forest-floor-1920x1080.jpg
> 
> On Sun, Jan 14, 2018 at 6:59 AM, Mike Jing <gravitys.rainbow.cn at gmail.com> wrote:
> P70.19-29   —flowers in bells and clusters, purple and white or yellow as butter, star-shaped ferns in the wet and dark places, millions of green veilings before the bridal secrets in the moss and under the deadfalls, went on by the wheels creaking and struck by rocks in the ruts, sparks visible only in what shadow it might pass over, a busy development of small trailside shapes tumbling in what had to be deliberately arranged precision, herbs the wildcrafters knew the names and market prices of and which the silent women up in the foothills, counterparts whom they most often never got even to meet, knew the magic uses for. They lived for different futures, but they were each other’s unrecognized halves, and what fascination between them did come to pass was lit up, beyond question, with grace.
> 
> What is this sentence describing? Just wondering.
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