My sister and I met Will today and admired his life’s work. He’d been at it since he turned 15, and in completing that work he marveled at the complexity, beauty, and uniqueness of his favorite subject. Will loved snowflakes. He loved their structure. He loved the variety of shapes he found. He loved capturing them and sharing them with people who were special to him.
My sister Beth had met Will before. Thankfully, she introduced us. You see, Will was born not far from a place we are visiting in Vermont. Despite the expense, his parents bought him a microscope as a gift one year. It was a good choice, because Will wasn’t like many of the other boys. He wasn’t interested in sports, but he was curious. He never married, but he was a problem solver.
Will was particularly curious about frozen precipitation, but found it difficult to capture images of it because it so quickly thawed. He solved the problem with black velvet. He caught the snowflake on a swatch of black velvet, then took that wonderful microscope and a bellows camera and continued trying things until he had captured images that met his standards. Along the way, he learned that there is no repetition in snowflakes.
Because of his abiding curiosity, Will asked himself ”Why?” Why are there so many shapes? What causes different types of crystallized precipitation to form?
In describing his pursuit of a subject many would disregard, Will said, “Every crystal was a masterpiece of design and no one design was ever repeated.” He also said, “When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, leaving no record behind.” Who cares like that?
I saw a chart Will created. It showed what shapes occur in snowflakes in different temperatures. The range went to -40 degrees Fahrenheit. Would you pursue your research under those conditions? Will was very committed to his work.
You really must see Will’s photographs. You cannot look at them without admiring the intricacy of a snowflake. Not just the entire flake, but even a piece of the core is fascinating. Today’s layman has much better tools available. Stronger magnification would reveal even more about the composition of the center of a snowflake. Where does that pattern end? Maybe you could adopt Will’s passion and carry on his research.
Beth pointed out this to me: Will’s mother didn’t overlook his difference; she encouraged it. You see, she educated him. She saw how he differed from others and she equipped him to follow his own path. She didn’t try to make him fit the norm. Because of her, we have glimpses of her son marveling at Nature. We also have a wealth of evidence supporting Will’s observations.
My niece Emily says, “Will reminds me of of my students with Autism. They loved to share and talk about their passions. They had the unique ability to learn the intricacies of their interests with meticulous focus that I couldn’t help but admire.” Will had a special ability to detect patterns, with interest in both snowflakes and spider webs because of their star-like shapes.
I don’t talk with Will. One reason is that, even though I’m curious and inspired by his work, I don’t think I could maintain a conversation that would accommodate his zeal. Another reason is that Will left us nearly sixty years before I was born.
Imagine doing all he did by carrying heavy equipment outside, dealing with the elements, and exposing and developing glass plates. It’s a level of dedication I hope we all can muster about something in our own lives.
Even if you or I aren’t that devoted to any one topic, I suspect we know somebody who is. Let’s encourage them. Like Will’s mother, let’s offer support. Let’s set aside our convictions about what we know and marvel with them. Let’s let them be our teachers.
For more, see:
Smithsonian Institution Archives Article - Wilson A. Bentley: Pioneering Photographer of Snowflakes
Why do I Think Wilson Alwyn "Snowflake" Bentley, the First Photographer of Snowflakes, Was Autistic?
