A Teacher's Gift

On June 14, 2010, I wrote the following blog post:

Morning Stroll

This morning, in the hour between haircut and work, I decided to photograph the dragonflies and damselflies at Lake Cheston. When I parked, I noticed an elderly man with his dog. I recognized him at once: retired Sewanee biology professor Harry Yeatman, who with his wife writes the charming "Nature Notes" column for the Sewanee Mountain Messenger.

We strolled together across the lake, chatting about the flitting bugs, the weather, the paper, Joy dog, and photography. When we reached the metal bridge, Dr. Yeatman told me about his research into the identity of the yellow lilies about which he had written for the paper. We had a lovely time -- Joy curled into a comma mid-bridge; Dr. Yeatman enjoying the taunting and teasing of the dragonflies zooming between us; and me, listening and leaning out over the rails to photograph the flowers and the bugs. Soon, he and Joy dog continued their walk. He told me he didn't want to get home late, as his wife was making him lunch. "Salmon," he said and smiled. "Delicious!" With that, he headed into the woods.
Later, after work, I returned to spend more time trying to snap the little creatures, and although I got a number of decent photographs, I missed my morning companions. They were the precious moments of the day, and I didn't even take their pictures.

Update

Dr. Yeatman died yesterday. He was 97, a "ripe old age" as my father would have said. (He too died at a ripe old age.) Like my father, Dr. Yeatman had enthusiasms and charms, the kind that pull you in and make you feel like an intimate, even upon first meeting.

I first met Dr. Yeatman at the Sewanee home of Birmingham friends, long known to my family and long sometime residents here. He and his wife attended a summer party, to which I too was invited. He especially was engaging and he wanted to know who I was.

I met him again off and on, but on that June day in 2010, something special happened: he sparked my curiosity about Odonates and he laughed at my then-weak camera and my frustration in trying to photograph fast-moving objects. Because of him, I have become a woman obsessed with the beautiful insects that he once collected and cataloged here in the same place I have come to love. 

I thanked him more than once for the teacher's gift of sparking curiosity and challenging my follow-through. One occasion I remember in particular: we walked into the post office at the same time, I holding the door for him. I reminded him of our stroll and he asked whether I was successful in my photographic pursuits.

I hope he would now say yes.

Once more, thank you, Dr. Yeatman for the rare gift of attention.