In my Golden Book Encyclopedia that I owned as a child, I read that a Belgian hare is NOT a hare, but a rabbit. I swear that the illogic of that statement started me on a road where discovering the differences between similar things got thwarted. (BTW, here’s the answer. Or HERE.)
Likewise, I’m not good distinguishing frogs from toads, monarch butterflies from viceroy butterflies, many car models (unless they’re really distinctive, such as the old VW Beetles, or a Rolls Royce), and even similar flowers.
I also must be somewhat colorblind, for I have a bear of a time distinguishing between black and navy blue, which I discovered about 15 years ago, when my mother bought me a blue chair to go with my blue rug. “What blue rug?” I pondered.
For what do you find difficulty in differentiating, particularly things that other people seem to see?
(At this rate, this will be the 30-MONTH Challenge. I’ll pick up the pace in July, if only because I’ll be away for a few days.)
Here’s a real embarrassment: I am outstandingly bad at identifying flowers. Oh, I recognize a rose, a carnation, or the oddball flora such as the sunflower. And the tulip; you can’t live in Albany, which has an annual festival, without being able to ID a tulip. But beyond that, not so much.
“Oh, that’s a pretty violet flower. What is it?”
This is particularly mortifying because my father worked at a florist shop when I was a child, and for years after that, he would arrange flowers for weddings, debutante balls and other events. He would drag my sister Leslie and me to these gigs, but I still had no absorption of his skills. I WAS useful, though, schlepping stuff from one place to another.
I suppose my favorite may be the lily, mostly because of Easter, and because they remind me of brass instruments.
The first song on the 1994 eponymous album David Byrne is Lilies of the Valley.