DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT EVOLUTION!

​“Don’t talk to me about evolution!” I exclaimed. I had just been watching  MY OCTOPUS TEACHER. Now I am not a fan of watching sea creatures and neither was the person who recommended it as “the best documentary she had seen.”
For those who like me have never heard of it, here is a brief summary. It was filmed in Cape Town, South Africa, not far from where I live and have often driven past. It depicts the year-long friendship between a middle-aged man and an octopus. It took months before a rapport was established, and the process was documented meticulously day by day. It shows the astounding intellect of a small octopus when confronted by danger and the extraordinary steps she took to evade it. As we would say, ”thinking on our feet!” She, like her kind, died after a year. Through this year-long experience, the narrator found peace. A very touching, memorable film.
In some ways it reminded me of this poem which I wrote after a visit to Paris in 2006 and is found in my book of poetry A CHRISTIAN IN LONDON AND PARIS.

JARDIN DES PLANTES
​
it was hot
an old garden
Jardin des Plantes
with its
avenues of trees
appealed
 
they were all there
 
runners
intent or talking
light of foot
or panting slow
children
chewing chicken
sandwiches
with their teachers
near the swings
or curious
wandering
round the zoo
tourists
maps in hand
heads well-hatted
trudging to the
Grande Galerie de l’Evolution
gardeners
dirty at their
daily grind
digging flower beds
snipping off
dead heads
Parisians
simply lazing
in the sun
 
and she was there
a nun at prayer
still, secluded
book in hand
against the ancient
cedar
 
for 270 summers
it had stood
in sun and snow
growing slowly
every year
into a
massive monumental
trunk
with branches
that embrace the sky
 
glancing up
I saw myriad leaves
dark green and delicate
outlined against
the blue
in such a pattern
I have never seen
 
and after that
I did not dream
of visiting
the evolutionary
museum
 
God bless and keep you this new year
Merle