This was beautiful and weird. Difficult to classify. On the edge of being too religious for me, but mostly it swerved into philosophy and joy and awe (in the terror-laden sense) of the minute, complex, everchanging natural world. I love the way she uses language– it’s exuberant and precise and mundane.
I taught excerpts of this book last year in an eco/feminist class, and I had owned a copy (Three by Annie Dillard, this and An American Childhood and The Writing Life) for longer than that. Very glad I prioritized it this month.
Bookish Bedlam 
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