On this mild, spring evening I realize that all around me nature takes two forms – the wild and the tame. Everywhere new life is beginning to sprout. Directly behind me are various trees with green tips beginning to mask the dull brown bark of winter. Beneath my feet vivacious green grass struggles to emerge through the remaining dead, dry leaves of fall and winter. At various places in my yard – lining the deck, under the tree directly in front of me, and even at both sides of the swing I am sitting on – pre-planted flowers start to tamely grow where my mother had planted them years ago. Slowly the remnants of winter are being engulfed by the birth of spring.
Across the street to my left the farmer’s field is even different. The shattered remains of last year’s corn harvest have disappeared under the machine ploughed soil where the farmer is preparing to plant a new crop. The trees that line the back of the fields are now beginning to hide the school and surrounding houses. No longer can I unintentionally spy on the neighbors living on the other side of the farmer’s field.
In the wind that caresses my face I smell the freshness of new life. The scent of budding flowers with the pollen that tickles my nose overwhelms my senses. I smell the freshly mowed grass from my over-eager neighbor who is obviously anxious for the weekly ritual that lawn care requires.
My ears are filled with the sounds of spring. The hidden birds chirp merrily in the trees conversing with long lost friends who migrated south for the winter and have now returned for the summer months yet to come. I swear I even hear a lonesome cricket crying out for its companions as the evening sun prepares to dip below the never ending horizon. The barrenness of winter is finally being replaced by the plentitude of spring, and the once resting nature is springing to new life once again.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Profoundly Nature
Defining nature is an impossible task. I used to think that nature was anything untouched by human hands. It was something that was pure and genuine. I have read things where the city is nature, the human is nature, and the country is nature. I’m beginning to think that nature is one of those terms that will never truly be defined.
Even through the study of a single place nature still remains undefined. I feel closer or more aware of nature then I have in the past. I never really stopped long enough to take notice of anything. That is one thing that this class has taught me. Even by observing the same place every week I have noticed things that I have never noticed before. It has caused me to remember what nature meant to me as a child and to see how that perception has changed with age and maturity.
One thing that I have learned is that nature is a mystery and a blessing all tied into one. It is a calming presence. It makes everything else seem so trivial or simple. I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but people tend to make life more difficult than it has to be. For me, nature is a reminder that life isn’t as completed as I sometimes think.
I would really like to take my observations and my insights from the last several months and turn them into a reflective manuscript. I found it easy to write about nature and its influences on me and my life. It is also something that everyone can relate to and something that people need to become more aware of in life. It is something that people take for granted that needs to be rediscovered and appreciated.
Even through the study of a single place nature still remains undefined. I feel closer or more aware of nature then I have in the past. I never really stopped long enough to take notice of anything. That is one thing that this class has taught me. Even by observing the same place every week I have noticed things that I have never noticed before. It has caused me to remember what nature meant to me as a child and to see how that perception has changed with age and maturity.
One thing that I have learned is that nature is a mystery and a blessing all tied into one. It is a calming presence. It makes everything else seem so trivial or simple. I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but people tend to make life more difficult than it has to be. For me, nature is a reminder that life isn’t as completed as I sometimes think.
I would really like to take my observations and my insights from the last several months and turn them into a reflective manuscript. I found it easy to write about nature and its influences on me and my life. It is also something that everyone can relate to and something that people need to become more aware of in life. It is something that people take for granted that needs to be rediscovered and appreciated.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Daffodils
When I read Becca's blog, http://backyardtransliteration.blogspot.com/2009/04/dancing-with-daffodils.html, William Wordsworth's poem popped into my head, “The Daffodils”. Maybe this is because my students have recently read that poem, or maybe because it is one of my favorites. This particular poem always pops into my head around this time of year.
I picture a scene with daffodils that sway, dance, and move in the wind. It is such a refreshing image as the dreariness of winter vanishes once again. Daffodils have become my hope for the arrival of spring.
To be honest, I cannot look at a daffodil without seeing it as a living and breathing object. They are so cheery – their yellow glow pulling smiles from all who notice. Their fragrance chases out the stagnant air of winter. Their durability even in the face of a last minute, surprise snowfall providing encouragement for all to hang on just a little bit longer.
Maybe it’s the eternal optimist coming out or maybe it’s the childlike eagerness anxiously waiting for summer to finally come, but the daffodils help to sooth my mind. They remind me that there is more to life than waking up, going to work, running numerous errands, laundry, cleaning, dishes, then finally sleep once again. The daffodils force me to realize that life is more than stress if I simply step back and breathe.
I picture a scene with daffodils that sway, dance, and move in the wind. It is such a refreshing image as the dreariness of winter vanishes once again. Daffodils have become my hope for the arrival of spring.
To be honest, I cannot look at a daffodil without seeing it as a living and breathing object. They are so cheery – their yellow glow pulling smiles from all who notice. Their fragrance chases out the stagnant air of winter. Their durability even in the face of a last minute, surprise snowfall providing encouragement for all to hang on just a little bit longer.
Maybe it’s the eternal optimist coming out or maybe it’s the childlike eagerness anxiously waiting for summer to finally come, but the daffodils help to sooth my mind. They remind me that there is more to life than waking up, going to work, running numerous errands, laundry, cleaning, dishes, then finally sleep once again. The daffodils force me to realize that life is more than stress if I simply step back and breathe.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sunny Attractions
A figure from nature that has always fascinated me is the sun. It’s part of every landscape on every continent all the time. No matter where I’m at the sun is always there – visible or invisible. For some reason my eyes are always drawn to it.
The first thing I do in the morning is open my blinds to let in the light. Of course, some days it is brighter than others. I refuse to close my blinds again until all traces of the sun are gone. In my classroom the blinds are always open so that I can turn off the florescent lights and teach by the natural light from the sun.
At first I assumed this fascination with the sun stemmed from my fear of the dark. I’ve always had that fear. It was something that I thought I would eventually grow out of. Of course, I still have it just not as bad as when I was a child. But now I realize that the sun fascinates me for reasons beyond fear.
For me the sun represents stability. It is a constant sight that I can always count on whether it is visible in the sky or hidden by clouds. I know it is always there. The moon even gets it light from the sun, so in essence the sun is even there in the night. It is nice to have something so stable in a world full of instability – a world that constantly changes.
I find in a lot of my poetry that the sun is always referred to somehow. I have even written several poems where the sun is the central image. It always evokes such strong emotions and desires from me, which I feel is the basis of good poetry. Plus, it is a sight that almost everyone can relate to in some for or other. It is a central image of connection. No one can escape the sun.
The first thing I do in the morning is open my blinds to let in the light. Of course, some days it is brighter than others. I refuse to close my blinds again until all traces of the sun are gone. In my classroom the blinds are always open so that I can turn off the florescent lights and teach by the natural light from the sun.
At first I assumed this fascination with the sun stemmed from my fear of the dark. I’ve always had that fear. It was something that I thought I would eventually grow out of. Of course, I still have it just not as bad as when I was a child. But now I realize that the sun fascinates me for reasons beyond fear.
For me the sun represents stability. It is a constant sight that I can always count on whether it is visible in the sky or hidden by clouds. I know it is always there. The moon even gets it light from the sun, so in essence the sun is even there in the night. It is nice to have something so stable in a world full of instability – a world that constantly changes.
I find in a lot of my poetry that the sun is always referred to somehow. I have even written several poems where the sun is the central image. It always evokes such strong emotions and desires from me, which I feel is the basis of good poetry. Plus, it is a sight that almost everyone can relate to in some for or other. It is a central image of connection. No one can escape the sun.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Unseen Connection
Pam makes a good point in her blog, http://gentleplanet.blogspot.com/2009/03/healing-power.html, about how nature connects people in ways they never thought they would. She says, “We are all connected. There are people who have not yet seen that connection but that doesn’t mean that they are not connected to each other and to us. That is happening to all of us right now if we will just pause, breathe and be aware.”
In my opinion, the biggest problem with our society today is that no one stops long enough to notice or appreciate anything. We are in such a hurry to live life to the fullest that we miss out on a lot of things in the process. That is also why industrialization is slowly eating away at the vast forests and fields that are pivotal to natural habitats. We are too busy looking to the future and technological advances that we don’t notice the damage and harm we are causing in the present.
Like Pam finishes, “Be in the moment.” Learn to live life for the small moments and the small gifts that are all around us. It creates a lot less stress and a more connected life: to nature, our surroundings, and the others who inhabit the Earth with us.
In my opinion, the biggest problem with our society today is that no one stops long enough to notice or appreciate anything. We are in such a hurry to live life to the fullest that we miss out on a lot of things in the process. That is also why industrialization is slowly eating away at the vast forests and fields that are pivotal to natural habitats. We are too busy looking to the future and technological advances that we don’t notice the damage and harm we are causing in the present.
Like Pam finishes, “Be in the moment.” Learn to live life for the small moments and the small gifts that are all around us. It creates a lot less stress and a more connected life: to nature, our surroundings, and the others who inhabit the Earth with us.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Passivity Not Enough
A blue canvas encompasses the Earth.
The sun a crayon for the ages
Casting yellows, reds, pinks, and oranges
Across the sky.
Birds flying over the page
Leaving their mark on the eye.
Preparation for a new birth.
The sun a crayon for the ages
Casting yellows, reds, pinks, and oranges
Across the sky.
Birds flying over the page
Leaving their mark on the eye.
Preparation for a new birth.
Two days ago the weather was beautiful – a bit chilly but refreshing. I just couldn’t stay cooped up inside on such a beautiful evening, so I decided that it was the perfect time to stop everything and go sit in my spot.
As I sat there, I saw the hickory tree in my yard that was right in front of me on the swing starting to sprout buds where the leaves are trying to make themselves known again. I saw the bright, vibrant, green grass peeking out from underneath the brown, dull leaves of fall and winter beneath my feet. In the front yard, across the street, I saw the remains of the farmer’s harvest glowing in the evening sun.
Suddenly, sitting by passively watching nature wasn’t enough for me. I had to get up and interact with it. Maybe it was my body’s way of saying, “Hey, give me a little exercise,” or maybe it was the Indian teachings of last week’s readings about connecting with nature in a personal way. Who knows, but just sitting in my spot wasn’t enough.
What I ended up doing was starting out on a two mile walk around my country block. Along my walk I saw a wood duck and a mallard swimming in a small, small pond down the road from my house. When they finally saw me, we engaged in a staring contest that they won of course, so I continued on my walk.
After I had travelled about a mile I found myself surrounded by trees on both sides of the road. I used to know these woods as well as my own back hand. We had made numerous paths in them as children. I noticed that there was a new path in them that I had never seen before. It looked like someone’s dirt bike or quad trail, and I decided I was going to go and check it out. I must have walked in circles following this path. Up slight hills, steep hills, circling around trees and bushes, and just wandering about through the forest.
Then I saw an end in sight. The path brought me out to a farmer’s field that was directly behind my house, past the trees. The only difference is that I was higher up in the field. The sight standing before me was amazing. I saw clear blue skies, golden fields, domineering mountains, and the colors of spring finally wiping out the dullness of winter. It was breath taking and well worth the extra two miles out of my way! I just stood there looking around for about twenty minutes amazed at the beauty before me.
When I was done and realized that I needed to head back home before it got dark, I took a mental picture with my mind. I also felt much more relaxed, free, uninhibited, and calm. This sight helped to put my life back into perspective. I wish everyone had the opportunity to feel completely in touch with their surroundings. Maybe our lives would seem less stressful.
As I sat there, I saw the hickory tree in my yard that was right in front of me on the swing starting to sprout buds where the leaves are trying to make themselves known again. I saw the bright, vibrant, green grass peeking out from underneath the brown, dull leaves of fall and winter beneath my feet. In the front yard, across the street, I saw the remains of the farmer’s harvest glowing in the evening sun.
Suddenly, sitting by passively watching nature wasn’t enough for me. I had to get up and interact with it. Maybe it was my body’s way of saying, “Hey, give me a little exercise,” or maybe it was the Indian teachings of last week’s readings about connecting with nature in a personal way. Who knows, but just sitting in my spot wasn’t enough.
What I ended up doing was starting out on a two mile walk around my country block. Along my walk I saw a wood duck and a mallard swimming in a small, small pond down the road from my house. When they finally saw me, we engaged in a staring contest that they won of course, so I continued on my walk.
After I had travelled about a mile I found myself surrounded by trees on both sides of the road. I used to know these woods as well as my own back hand. We had made numerous paths in them as children. I noticed that there was a new path in them that I had never seen before. It looked like someone’s dirt bike or quad trail, and I decided I was going to go and check it out. I must have walked in circles following this path. Up slight hills, steep hills, circling around trees and bushes, and just wandering about through the forest.
Then I saw an end in sight. The path brought me out to a farmer’s field that was directly behind my house, past the trees. The only difference is that I was higher up in the field. The sight standing before me was amazing. I saw clear blue skies, golden fields, domineering mountains, and the colors of spring finally wiping out the dullness of winter. It was breath taking and well worth the extra two miles out of my way! I just stood there looking around for about twenty minutes amazed at the beauty before me.
When I was done and realized that I needed to head back home before it got dark, I took a mental picture with my mind. I also felt much more relaxed, free, uninhibited, and calm. This sight helped to put my life back into perspective. I wish everyone had the opportunity to feel completely in touch with their surroundings. Maybe our lives would seem less stressful.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
An Unusual Sanctuary
When I went away to college for my undergraduate degree, I was an outsider for the first time in my life. I was on a campus where no one was familiar and people who looked down on my religious beliefs (the college was Reformed Presbyterian and I was Catholic). In classes I listened to conversations that mocked my religion and outside the classroom I listened to uninformed or ignorantly informed students talking about my faith as if it was something to be ashamed of.
This was the first time I had ever been surrounded by such narrow minded individuals. I had always confronted various religious beliefs from an angle of curiosity instead of from one of disdain, and I really was not prepared to handle the situation.
Across the street from my college apartment was a beautiful wide-open park. I loved to go there late at night when the streets were all quite and I was surrounded by darkness. In the middle of this run-down, dilapidated town full of college students, there was a sanctuary. I could go there at night and not worry about being seen or questioned or criticized.
I would talk to God or just myself even. The swings were my favorite place to sit. I would glide back and forth just to feel the weightlessness. Anybody watching probably thought I was loon swinging on the swings and talking to empty space (that’s why the best time to go was after dark). That park helped me through so many problems. It also helped me to discover who I was and that I was stronger than I looked or even felt.
That is the one thing I miss about college. I haven’t been able to find any other place that calms me or encourages or reinforces me like those swings in that park. I begin to wonder if it was the actual park or my own selfish needs that made that park such a sanctuary. Whichever it is, I am glad that I was able to find it.
This was the first time I had ever been surrounded by such narrow minded individuals. I had always confronted various religious beliefs from an angle of curiosity instead of from one of disdain, and I really was not prepared to handle the situation.
Across the street from my college apartment was a beautiful wide-open park. I loved to go there late at night when the streets were all quite and I was surrounded by darkness. In the middle of this run-down, dilapidated town full of college students, there was a sanctuary. I could go there at night and not worry about being seen or questioned or criticized.
I would talk to God or just myself even. The swings were my favorite place to sit. I would glide back and forth just to feel the weightlessness. Anybody watching probably thought I was loon swinging on the swings and talking to empty space (that’s why the best time to go was after dark). That park helped me through so many problems. It also helped me to discover who I was and that I was stronger than I looked or even felt.
That is the one thing I miss about college. I haven’t been able to find any other place that calms me or encourages or reinforces me like those swings in that park. I begin to wonder if it was the actual park or my own selfish needs that made that park such a sanctuary. Whichever it is, I am glad that I was able to find it.
Traveling
I was reading Becca’s blog again, http://backyardtransliteration.blogspot.com/2009/03/spirit-in-skye.html, when something struck a chord: “The next year, my roommate would ask me whether, when I missed Scotland, I was longing for where I had been or who I had been when I was there, but I cannot unravel the one from the other.” This is something that I have been struggling with for a while.
Lately, I have had the urge to travel again. My first visit overseas took place the summer after my 6th grade year. We went to visit my uncle who was stationed in Belgium. My family and I visited 7 countries in four weeks. It was amazing! I still vividly remember the Alps, the concentration camp, the ice caverns, the salt mines, etc.
My next trip overseas had to wait for the summer before my senior year of college. This is the trip that changed me dramatically. Before I took this trip I had never been on a different continent without my family. At first I was afraid, but when my plane touched down in Rome, Italy I was too awed to be scared.
That entire trip, all 18 days, my shy demeanor vanished. In its place was someone who wasn’t afraid of the language barrier or traveling down an unknown path. Often times I was the one asking directions using stick figures, hand gestures, and very little Italian (very little Italian). I felt free and independent. No one knew me as the shy, awkward girl from southwestern Pennsylvania.
Now that I am back home, I yearn for that feeling of freedom again. I am itching to travel to the British Isles and see all the places I have read about in my studies of literature. I want to be that carefree, adventurous person that I was in Italy. Some places force us to step outside of our normal selves and take on new personas. Everyone needs to this from time to time.
Lately, I have had the urge to travel again. My first visit overseas took place the summer after my 6th grade year. We went to visit my uncle who was stationed in Belgium. My family and I visited 7 countries in four weeks. It was amazing! I still vividly remember the Alps, the concentration camp, the ice caverns, the salt mines, etc.
My next trip overseas had to wait for the summer before my senior year of college. This is the trip that changed me dramatically. Before I took this trip I had never been on a different continent without my family. At first I was afraid, but when my plane touched down in Rome, Italy I was too awed to be scared.
That entire trip, all 18 days, my shy demeanor vanished. In its place was someone who wasn’t afraid of the language barrier or traveling down an unknown path. Often times I was the one asking directions using stick figures, hand gestures, and very little Italian (very little Italian). I felt free and independent. No one knew me as the shy, awkward girl from southwestern Pennsylvania.
Now that I am back home, I yearn for that feeling of freedom again. I am itching to travel to the British Isles and see all the places I have read about in my studies of literature. I want to be that carefree, adventurous person that I was in Italy. Some places force us to step outside of our normal selves and take on new personas. Everyone needs to this from time to time.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Paralleling Nature
Translucent masses of grey
Swirling in the sky --
Turmoil brewing.
Tears streaming down
To frown the earth in sorrow --
Depression sulking.
Clouds wrung dry
Clearing the turbulent sky --
Sadness released.
I always wondered how nature writers could so perfectly relate to what is happening in nature. This is no longer the case. Yesterday's weather was cold, gloomy, and wet which matched my life perfectly.
Yesterday evening I found myself sitting on the swing in my backyard looking out towards the horizon where the sun should have been setting. Of course, I saw only the swirling of ominous looking clouds. We had just found out the my sister was being admitted to the hospital to begin treatments for Guillian Barre, an extremely rare virus that attacks the central nervous system. My sister lives on the other side of Pennsylvania from us in Philadelphia (quite a far trip).
After the numerous phones calls from my mother about what was going to happen and what my sister's outlook was like I just needed to get out and process things. Therefore, there I sat in the cold rain and darkened sky swinging like it was summer. The slight breeze helped to clear my thoughts and put everything into perspective for me. For once, nature was the rational being.
Now, today, the sun is shining, and my sister is full of hope and on the road to recovery. It's like God is smiling down on my family right now. It's funny how nature can parallel our lives and help us stay grounded through even the most terrifying of times.
Swirling in the sky --
Turmoil brewing.
Tears streaming down
To frown the earth in sorrow --
Depression sulking.
Clouds wrung dry
Clearing the turbulent sky --
Sadness released.
I always wondered how nature writers could so perfectly relate to what is happening in nature. This is no longer the case. Yesterday's weather was cold, gloomy, and wet which matched my life perfectly.
Yesterday evening I found myself sitting on the swing in my backyard looking out towards the horizon where the sun should have been setting. Of course, I saw only the swirling of ominous looking clouds. We had just found out the my sister was being admitted to the hospital to begin treatments for Guillian Barre, an extremely rare virus that attacks the central nervous system. My sister lives on the other side of Pennsylvania from us in Philadelphia (quite a far trip).
After the numerous phones calls from my mother about what was going to happen and what my sister's outlook was like I just needed to get out and process things. Therefore, there I sat in the cold rain and darkened sky swinging like it was summer. The slight breeze helped to clear my thoughts and put everything into perspective for me. For once, nature was the rational being.
Now, today, the sun is shining, and my sister is full of hope and on the road to recovery. It's like God is smiling down on my family right now. It's funny how nature can parallel our lives and help us stay grounded through even the most terrifying of times.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Murdering Habitats
I live in a small town southwest of Pittsburgh. There is a farmer’s field directly across the street from my bedroom window. For years I have watched corn, soy beans, and wheat grow and be harvested in this field. It is how I internally judge the seasons.
The problem: This field is slowly disappearing. Even though I live in a small town, the metropolis of my hometown is no longer big enough to house the families that continue to grow from generation to generation. Each year I see another plot of farm land being sold to build houses or even entire housing projects.
Not only is the farming land being affected, but the forests are disappearing as well. My house is surrounded on the three sides by woods. Each year these woods seem to grow smaller as people build houses from the south, north, east, and west – slowly chipping away at this natural habitat.
On top of the housing industry, gas wells are also popping up everywhere destroying farmland and forests. I’m not even sure what these wells are used for. It takes months for developers to drill these wells wreaking havoc on local residents – humans and non-humans alike. Then, the developers leave, and I don’t see anyone coming back to check on these wells. It is like they drill and then abandon their handiwork. I’m looking at an abandoned well right now outside my window in the middle of the farmer’s field.
Is the disappearance of farmlands and forests for societal purposes supposed to now be considered a part of nature? Is this murdering of natural habitats supposed to become a common occurrence that we should just passively accept? With all the technological advances of modern society, why can’t we find a less harmful solution to these environmental issues?
The problem: This field is slowly disappearing. Even though I live in a small town, the metropolis of my hometown is no longer big enough to house the families that continue to grow from generation to generation. Each year I see another plot of farm land being sold to build houses or even entire housing projects.
Not only is the farming land being affected, but the forests are disappearing as well. My house is surrounded on the three sides by woods. Each year these woods seem to grow smaller as people build houses from the south, north, east, and west – slowly chipping away at this natural habitat.
On top of the housing industry, gas wells are also popping up everywhere destroying farmland and forests. I’m not even sure what these wells are used for. It takes months for developers to drill these wells wreaking havoc on local residents – humans and non-humans alike. Then, the developers leave, and I don’t see anyone coming back to check on these wells. It is like they drill and then abandon their handiwork. I’m looking at an abandoned well right now outside my window in the middle of the farmer’s field.
Is the disappearance of farmlands and forests for societal purposes supposed to now be considered a part of nature? Is this murdering of natural habitats supposed to become a common occurrence that we should just passively accept? With all the technological advances of modern society, why can’t we find a less harmful solution to these environmental issues?
Cemeteries and Death
A classmate recently posted an entry about cemeteries (http://gentleplanet.blogspot.com/2009/03/cemetery.html). This got me thinking. The last time I was in a cemetery was when a close relative had passed away from lung cancer at the age of 67. It was heart wrenching. The only times I have been in a cemetery was for an actual funeral.
I don’t like to go back and “visit” the dead. I guess it stems from my beliefs about death. When we die, our souls leave our bodies behind like abandoned shells. After death my loved one is no longer inside the body kept in the casket.
Plus, whenever I am at a cemetery, I am afraid to walk around because I don’t want to walk on someone else’s grave. That may sound silly, but what can I say.
The way I look at it: I can talk to my deceased relatives anywhere at any time. I don’t have to be standing in front of a grave that harbors their skeletal remains. Now, I will admit to never have lost anyone extremely close to me as of yet. I still have all four of my grandparent and most of my really close great aunts and uncles.
Will my inclinations and beliefs about cemeteries change? Who knows. I’ve heard people saying that going to a loved one’s grave site helps to keep a physical connection to the deceased. I don’t know, but I do know that I will be more than happy to wait another ten years before I will be faced with the answers to these questions.
I don’t like to go back and “visit” the dead. I guess it stems from my beliefs about death. When we die, our souls leave our bodies behind like abandoned shells. After death my loved one is no longer inside the body kept in the casket.
Plus, whenever I am at a cemetery, I am afraid to walk around because I don’t want to walk on someone else’s grave. That may sound silly, but what can I say.
The way I look at it: I can talk to my deceased relatives anywhere at any time. I don’t have to be standing in front of a grave that harbors their skeletal remains. Now, I will admit to never have lost anyone extremely close to me as of yet. I still have all four of my grandparent and most of my really close great aunts and uncles.
Will my inclinations and beliefs about cemeteries change? Who knows. I’ve heard people saying that going to a loved one’s grave site helps to keep a physical connection to the deceased. I don’t know, but I do know that I will be more than happy to wait another ten years before I will be faced with the answers to these questions.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Loss of Innocence
They’re just trees:
Oaks, hickory nut, crab apple.
Maybe they’re more:
Walls, fences, secret passages
Hiding an imaginary world.
Oaks, hickory nut, crab apple.
Maybe they’re more:
Walls, fences, secret passages
Hiding an imaginary world.
It’s late afternoon and the sun is sitting low in the sky. Who knows how long this heat wave will last (55 degrees). Before I can even make it two feet to my special place on the swing, my eyes become transfixed on the various trees looming in the background. That wall of trees was once the border between reality and make believe.
The strip of trees directly behind my swing that separated our yard from our neighbor’s was referred to as the ride-a-way. That place harbors all of my childhood imaginings. My siblings, the neighbors, and I would spend hours playing in those “woods.” They became anything we could imagine: a house, a fort, a haunted maze.
We spent hours clearing a path that weaved through and around those trees. We used brooms to sweep the dirt off of the older dirt buried beneath – a futile task. We had sword fights and military wars waged amongst those trees. In essence, those trees fostered our childish creativity and adventure.
I can’t remember the last time I ventured into that make believe world or even stopped long enough to miss that feeling of innocent freedom. Why is it that nature seems so much more available as a child than to a grown adult? To be honest, I cannot even remember when the ride-a-way lost its appeal. It looks so lifeless and so different than what I remember from my childhood. What changed – me, the trees, or both?
The strip of trees directly behind my swing that separated our yard from our neighbor’s was referred to as the ride-a-way. That place harbors all of my childhood imaginings. My siblings, the neighbors, and I would spend hours playing in those “woods.” They became anything we could imagine: a house, a fort, a haunted maze.
We spent hours clearing a path that weaved through and around those trees. We used brooms to sweep the dirt off of the older dirt buried beneath – a futile task. We had sword fights and military wars waged amongst those trees. In essence, those trees fostered our childish creativity and adventure.
I can’t remember the last time I ventured into that make believe world or even stopped long enough to miss that feeling of innocent freedom. Why is it that nature seems so much more available as a child than to a grown adult? To be honest, I cannot even remember when the ride-a-way lost its appeal. It looks so lifeless and so different than what I remember from my childhood. What changed – me, the trees, or both?
Saturday, February 21, 2009
People and Dogs
Dogs have been around for centuries of various breeds and purposes. People today mostly own dogs for reasons of protection, hunting companions, or family pets. My family bought our German Shorthaired dog, Rascal, for the latter two reasons.
Like most German Shorthaired dogs Rascal is an extremely affection and playful dog. He could be lying in a deep sleep at the foot of my bed, but whenever a family member comes home he is off the bed and at the door before I can even blink. My family jokes that he is our 90 pound lap dog. He just always wants to be near us.
My Dad originally bought Rascal because German Shorthaired dogs are supposed to be versatile hunters. I remember the first time Rascal pointed. My Dad was acting like Rascal had just taken his first steps. He was out in our backyard when he caught the scent of an animal in the woods. Every muscle tensed and froze, his right paw curled up into his chest, and his tail went completely still and straight out from his body. We could have served tea on his back without spilling a drop. Ever since then Rascal anticipates hunting season like a child anticipates Christmas.
Rascal is now a member of our family. He is very loyal and protective. At night he lays in a central location where he can find all of us and watch the living room for intruders. Whenever one of us is upset, Rascal is close by to lay his head in our laps or give us a doggy kiss on the cheek. Our family would not be complete without Rascal.
Like most German Shorthaired dogs Rascal is an extremely affection and playful dog. He could be lying in a deep sleep at the foot of my bed, but whenever a family member comes home he is off the bed and at the door before I can even blink. My family jokes that he is our 90 pound lap dog. He just always wants to be near us.
My Dad originally bought Rascal because German Shorthaired dogs are supposed to be versatile hunters. I remember the first time Rascal pointed. My Dad was acting like Rascal had just taken his first steps. He was out in our backyard when he caught the scent of an animal in the woods. Every muscle tensed and froze, his right paw curled up into his chest, and his tail went completely still and straight out from his body. We could have served tea on his back without spilling a drop. Ever since then Rascal anticipates hunting season like a child anticipates Christmas.
Rascal is now a member of our family. He is very loyal and protective. At night he lays in a central location where he can find all of us and watch the living room for intruders. Whenever one of us is upset, Rascal is close by to lay his head in our laps or give us a doggy kiss on the cheek. Our family would not be complete without Rascal.
Friday, February 20, 2009
The Need for Bugs
In my family and among my friends I’m known as the girly person. I don’t do dirt, don’t break finger nails, don’t take out the trash, and I have never, ever had to cut the grass or change a flat tire. It’s not that these things are difficult or impossible to learn; I just don’t have to do them. Other people do them for me. (I may be slightly spoiled but not much).
Surprisingly, I got a laugh from Becca’s blog about bugs (http://backyardtransliteration.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-bugs.html), especially the part about her shrieking as she’s carrying the stink bug outside instead of killing it. It reminded me of my college roommate. She was such a tom-boy. When we would walk down the street, I would get side tracked by a good looking man and she would get side tracked by the truck said man was driving. The one thing that she could not tolerate was bugs.
I found this hilarious. If she would find a bug in our house, she would first shriek, find a shoe, and start throwing the shoe at the bug to kill it. No bug was safe in my house when she was around. Even more surprising was that I was the one who became the official bug exterminator in the house even though I was the girly one.
To annoy my friend I would always refuse to kill the bug. Instead, I would catch and set if free outside. This annoyed my roommate because she said that doing that just gave the bug the opportunity to find its way back inside our house.
I set the bugs free simply to annoy my roommate, but after reading Becca’s blog I realize that my torture tactic was actually good for nature and its creatures. I am under the belief that everything was put on this earth for a reason – bugs included. There is such a thing called a food chain (which bugs are a part of whether we like it or not) that helps all life forms thrive to make nature and our earth the way it was intended. Humans should try to not mess with this system as much as possible. Will that stop me from killing a spider the next time I find one in the house? I guess I’ll have to wait to find out.
Surprisingly, I got a laugh from Becca’s blog about bugs (http://backyardtransliteration.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-bugs.html), especially the part about her shrieking as she’s carrying the stink bug outside instead of killing it. It reminded me of my college roommate. She was such a tom-boy. When we would walk down the street, I would get side tracked by a good looking man and she would get side tracked by the truck said man was driving. The one thing that she could not tolerate was bugs.
I found this hilarious. If she would find a bug in our house, she would first shriek, find a shoe, and start throwing the shoe at the bug to kill it. No bug was safe in my house when she was around. Even more surprising was that I was the one who became the official bug exterminator in the house even though I was the girly one.
To annoy my friend I would always refuse to kill the bug. Instead, I would catch and set if free outside. This annoyed my roommate because she said that doing that just gave the bug the opportunity to find its way back inside our house.
I set the bugs free simply to annoy my roommate, but after reading Becca’s blog I realize that my torture tactic was actually good for nature and its creatures. I am under the belief that everything was put on this earth for a reason – bugs included. There is such a thing called a food chain (which bugs are a part of whether we like it or not) that helps all life forms thrive to make nature and our earth the way it was intended. Humans should try to not mess with this system as much as possible. Will that stop me from killing a spider the next time I find one in the house? I guess I’ll have to wait to find out.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Nature's Oddity
Translucent masses of grey
Swirling in the sky;
Tears streaming down
To drown the earth –
Nature at its gloomiest.
Swirling in the sky;
Tears streaming down
To drown the earth –
Nature at its gloomiest.
Don’t ask why, but I found myself sitting outside this afternoon with the rain filled clouds emptying their near freezing rain on my head. The cold and wet seemed to mirror my own personal existence right now. I felt dampened by work and life in general – cold and detached.
The cool, winter wind rocked the swing ever so slightly trying to soothe my pessimistic feelings. The world appeared so dreary – as if the grayness from the clouds was falling down upon the earth with each raindrop.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw something out of the ordinary -- a pink balloon. It was frolicking in the wind – the only glimpse of color in the dreary afternoon surroundings.
I found myself looking around to find the owner of this balloon, but there was no child or vehicle in sight. I sat there mesmerized by this mysterious ray of color until it was beyond the point of sight. After a while I realized that I was smiling – sitting there in the freezing rain, soaking wet, but smiling.
Finally, I realized I was smiling at the oddity of the moment. I knew no one would believe me. When I told my family, they thought I had been hallucinating or dreaming. For some reason seeing that balloon snapped me out of my misery. I couldn’t explain why things happen, and I certainly couldn’t control them. The only thing I could do was chalk it up to experience and move on like the balloon that danced around the earth on a rainy afternoon.
The cool, winter wind rocked the swing ever so slightly trying to soothe my pessimistic feelings. The world appeared so dreary – as if the grayness from the clouds was falling down upon the earth with each raindrop.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw something out of the ordinary -- a pink balloon. It was frolicking in the wind – the only glimpse of color in the dreary afternoon surroundings.
I found myself looking around to find the owner of this balloon, but there was no child or vehicle in sight. I sat there mesmerized by this mysterious ray of color until it was beyond the point of sight. After a while I realized that I was smiling – sitting there in the freezing rain, soaking wet, but smiling.
Finally, I realized I was smiling at the oddity of the moment. I knew no one would believe me. When I told my family, they thought I had been hallucinating or dreaming. For some reason seeing that balloon snapped me out of my misery. I couldn’t explain why things happen, and I certainly couldn’t control them. The only thing I could do was chalk it up to experience and move on like the balloon that danced around the earth on a rainy afternoon.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Defining the Abstract
I love reading my classmate, Becca's, blogs; I can usually relate so well to the things she mentions, and they spark my own thoughts. Her recent blog about the horrendous wind storms is another one I can relate to. I loved how she described the wind: "I love wind, as a rule. I'm fascinated by a force made visible only by what it's affecting, made audible only by loose ends" (http://backyardtransliteration.blogspot.com/2009/02/ja-es-ist-doch-windig.html). I would have never thought to describe something invisible as visible because of the objects surrounding it.
There are so many abstract things all around us. Most of the time we simply accept them as abstract and move on, but if we actually stopped to think about these abstract things we might be able to find a tangible way of connecting with them. Let’s take the concept of love (being that it’s Valentine’s Day). Love is an abstract concept, but we see it all around us. I see it between my parents who have been married for 27 years. I see it between my Dad and my grandmother who have been mother and son for 52 years. I even see it between my dogs who refuse to go anywhere without the other one present.
Nature has a way of trying to trick us. It is filled with abstract and mysterious things and happenings. If we would just slow down long enough to notice and contemplate things, we might actually feel more connected to nature and life.
There are so many abstract things all around us. Most of the time we simply accept them as abstract and move on, but if we actually stopped to think about these abstract things we might be able to find a tangible way of connecting with them. Let’s take the concept of love (being that it’s Valentine’s Day). Love is an abstract concept, but we see it all around us. I see it between my parents who have been married for 27 years. I see it between my Dad and my grandmother who have been mother and son for 52 years. I even see it between my dogs who refuse to go anywhere without the other one present.
Nature has a way of trying to trick us. It is filled with abstract and mysterious things and happenings. If we would just slow down long enough to notice and contemplate things, we might actually feel more connected to nature and life.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
A Battle of Wits
I am normally not a beach person because my skin is very sensitive to the sun. If I wear sun screen that is less than SPF of 35, I become a lobster. For some reason, I find myself at the beach once every four years. Am I asking for sunburn? No, I simply want to spend time with my family, and they insist on going to the beach once every four years.
The only saving grace of the beach is the time of day when the sun wants to be in the sky but the horizon refuses to give way to its persistent demands. This is a time when most people are still in their beds recovering from the day and night before, but I see this as time for a reality check.
Almost every morning of that week-long vacation I find myself sitting on the beach and staring down the ocean waves. It is kind of like I’m taunting them to come and take me away. The ocean breathes upon me at Poseidon’s command warning me of its leashed power, and I stubbornly sit there with the wind slashing at my face.
But for some reason, no matter how long I sit there, I always lose the staring contest. It is at this moment that I realize how small of a part I play on this Earth compared to that of the vast ocean. My problems are so tiny in comparison to Nature. From that point on I find my mind completely at ease, and I am ready to take on another day.
The only saving grace of the beach is the time of day when the sun wants to be in the sky but the horizon refuses to give way to its persistent demands. This is a time when most people are still in their beds recovering from the day and night before, but I see this as time for a reality check.
Almost every morning of that week-long vacation I find myself sitting on the beach and staring down the ocean waves. It is kind of like I’m taunting them to come and take me away. The ocean breathes upon me at Poseidon’s command warning me of its leashed power, and I stubbornly sit there with the wind slashing at my face.
But for some reason, no matter how long I sit there, I always lose the staring contest. It is at this moment that I realize how small of a part I play on this Earth compared to that of the vast ocean. My problems are so tiny in comparison to Nature. From that point on I find my mind completely at ease, and I am ready to take on another day.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Nature's Mystery
The man in the moon
Peeking through the skeletal trees
Is always watching –
The sentry of the night.
Peeking through the skeletal trees
Is always watching –
The sentry of the night.
I have a phobia – the dark – but I find myself sitting outside during this full moon on the first winter night that isn’t below zero anyways (I can’t see my breath for once). As I sit here, I’m surprised to feel completely at ease. It must be because of the illumination radiating from the full moon in the cloudless sky.
I look around my yard with the trees surrounding me hiding who knows what. What makes this moment different from all the other times my heart races when night descends? The shadows are still there. The unknown is still hidden. Uncertainty lurks just beyond the edges of light.
But I still feel no fear. In fact, I feel at peace. The night is so quiet and calm. For the first time all day my mind is free to wander without intrusion. Nature’s moon leaves me feeling safe and protected so that I can enjoy the solitude of this night.
Nature always has a way of protecting us. The infamous man in the moon eases the fears of the night like a giant night-light in the sky. The trees create a barrier of privacy. The rustling of the wind soothes away the nerves. How does nature always have a way of putting things into perspective?
I look around my yard with the trees surrounding me hiding who knows what. What makes this moment different from all the other times my heart races when night descends? The shadows are still there. The unknown is still hidden. Uncertainty lurks just beyond the edges of light.
But I still feel no fear. In fact, I feel at peace. The night is so quiet and calm. For the first time all day my mind is free to wander without intrusion. Nature’s moon leaves me feeling safe and protected so that I can enjoy the solitude of this night.
Nature always has a way of protecting us. The infamous man in the moon eases the fears of the night like a giant night-light in the sky. The trees create a barrier of privacy. The rustling of the wind soothes away the nerves. How does nature always have a way of putting things into perspective?
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Nature's Reality Check
A classmate makes an interesting observation: “The snow makes it clear where we’ve been. What it doesn’t as effectively reveal is where we’re going.” After reading Becca’s blog (http://backyardtransliteration.blogspot.com/2009/01/quo-vadis.html) I immediately went outside to stare at the frozen, snow/ice covered ground.
There all over my yard were the footprints of my two dogs, my dad’s size 10 foot and my much smaller one (we are the only two that have a need to walk outside in the snow to reach our vehicles). Our footprints converge in some points where I tried to step in his already made steps to keep my dress shoe clad feet dry.
This simple sign of dependency makes me question exactly where I am going in life. When will I step out of my parents’ footprints and step out on my own? I have plans, dreams, and goals that I work towards every day, but when will the dependency stop?
This is a reminder of how nature awakens us to reality. Who would have thought that footprints frozen in the snow could cause someone to question their life’s ambition? Nature has a way of uncovering things and simplifying things. The only thing we have to do is stop long enough to notice.
There all over my yard were the footprints of my two dogs, my dad’s size 10 foot and my much smaller one (we are the only two that have a need to walk outside in the snow to reach our vehicles). Our footprints converge in some points where I tried to step in his already made steps to keep my dress shoe clad feet dry.
This simple sign of dependency makes me question exactly where I am going in life. When will I step out of my parents’ footprints and step out on my own? I have plans, dreams, and goals that I work towards every day, but when will the dependency stop?
This is a reminder of how nature awakens us to reality. Who would have thought that footprints frozen in the snow could cause someone to question their life’s ambition? Nature has a way of uncovering things and simplifying things. The only thing we have to do is stop long enough to notice.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Life's Simplicity
When I was young, my favorite time of day was night, especially a clear summer night. On these nights I would lie on the deck off of my back porch and just stare up into the heavens. There were no city lights to intrude and only the sounds of the crickets.
My Dad and I would lie out there for hours – on our backs with the cooling night breeze offering a break from the summer sun. He would point out the big and little dipper while we argued over which sparkling ball of fire the North Star was. The one constellation that both of us automatically could find was Orion’s Belt. Those three luminaries were unmistakable even to my childish eyes.
There was only one rule made by tacit agreement: we could talk about nothing but the sky. After about ten minutes my entire world was consumed by the sky. Nothing else existed – no siblings, no chores, nothing but the gases burning millions of light years away.
I often wonder where those innocent nights disappeared to. One day I’m lying on my back and the next I’m too busy to even notice the darkness. Where did all of life’s simplicity go?
My Dad and I would lie out there for hours – on our backs with the cooling night breeze offering a break from the summer sun. He would point out the big and little dipper while we argued over which sparkling ball of fire the North Star was. The one constellation that both of us automatically could find was Orion’s Belt. Those three luminaries were unmistakable even to my childish eyes.
There was only one rule made by tacit agreement: we could talk about nothing but the sky. After about ten minutes my entire world was consumed by the sky. Nothing else existed – no siblings, no chores, nothing but the gases burning millions of light years away.
I often wonder where those innocent nights disappeared to. One day I’m lying on my back and the next I’m too busy to even notice the darkness. Where did all of life’s simplicity go?
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Free as a Bird
Outside there are no fences:
Open fields with no direction,
Vast forests with paths abound,
And endless skies of possibilities.
Society imposes the inevitable:
Buildings of entrapment,
Roads to guide us,
And ceilings that limit us.
Open fields with no direction,
Vast forests with paths abound,
And endless skies of possibilities.
Society imposes the inevitable:
Buildings of entrapment,
Roads to guide us,
And ceilings that limit us.
Where’s the balance?
I’m sitting in my swing shivering once again, but this was a much needed break. Inside there is a multitude of things that need done. Outside I feel like I’m all alone and free of time constraints. For some reason not too many people just go outside to sit right before sundown on a February day in Pennsylvania (I can only imagine what the people are thinking as they drive past in their heated cars).
As I sit here regaining what’s left of my sanity, I notice a lonely bird flying in the sky. It looks like a crow, but I’m not really sure. I think birds are the dirtiest of animals, but today I find myself wishing to trade places. I would love to experience the freedom of flying in the vast skies without any limitations. I imagine myself soaring over the Earth and admiring its beauty (even if most of the wildlife is hibernating). Of course, I know that there is more to a bird’s life than flying over the land, but I just want to experience the feeling of the crisp winter breeze ruffling through my feathers – complete freedom just once.
As I sit here regaining what’s left of my sanity, I notice a lonely bird flying in the sky. It looks like a crow, but I’m not really sure. I think birds are the dirtiest of animals, but today I find myself wishing to trade places. I would love to experience the freedom of flying in the vast skies without any limitations. I imagine myself soaring over the Earth and admiring its beauty (even if most of the wildlife is hibernating). Of course, I know that there is more to a bird’s life than flying over the land, but I just want to experience the feeling of the crisp winter breeze ruffling through my feathers – complete freedom just once.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The Power of Place
I was reading a blog by a fellow classmate (http://marnature.blogspot.com ) entitled “No Smoking Allowed.” In this particular posting the “power of place” struck a chord. Apparently, she is a smoker who loves to visit the public gardens near her home, but she refuses to combine the two things. She refers to it as “some unspoken code of conduct.” This got me thinking. Does nature unconsciously dictate our actions?
We like to think that we have control over our own actions, but do we really? For instance, every time I walk past or through a cemetery I feel this unspeakable need to whisper. It’s like I would be breaking some kind of law if I spoke any louder.
Another example comes to mind. As a child I loved to go out and pick wildflowers from my backyard. I stumbled across a patch of tiger lilies once, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to pluck them. These didn’t grow everywhere in my yard like the other flowers. These were an isolated clump that for some reason my youthful innocence would not let me pick. They were special.
So do we really have complete control over how we relate and interact with nature, or is nature really the guide?
We like to think that we have control over our own actions, but do we really? For instance, every time I walk past or through a cemetery I feel this unspeakable need to whisper. It’s like I would be breaking some kind of law if I spoke any louder.
Another example comes to mind. As a child I loved to go out and pick wildflowers from my backyard. I stumbled across a patch of tiger lilies once, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to pluck them. These didn’t grow everywhere in my yard like the other flowers. These were an isolated clump that for some reason my youthful innocence would not let me pick. They were special.
So do we really have complete control over how we relate and interact with nature, or is nature really the guide?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Nature's Shaping
Most people do not realize how much their surroundings shape their lives. If we look at our growing and living environments, then we might gain some insights into our individual personalities. We are not separate from nature but shaped by nature.
I was driving into Pittsburgh last Saturday, and I felt completely lost and greatly overwhelmed. I was really grateful for the two friends who were with me and did most of the leading for the evening. Thinking back on this experience makes me wonder how I came to feel so uncomfortable and out of place in a big city like Pittsburgh.
My entire life has been spent in the small town of Mt. Pleasant. My entire family lives within five minutes of each other. I know most of the people at the grocery store and just about everyone that I pass on the street. We never lock doors or worry about being mugged late at night. It is a relatively safe environment.
To make my life even simpler, I don’t live in the actual town. I live in what is known as the borough. On three sides of my house are tall trees with wildlife scurrying all around. We even get deer coming to visit our garden in the backyard. The fourth side of my house offers a wonderful view of the farmer’s field.
We have neighbors who are more like relatives to us than simply neighbors. Any of us would go out of our way to help the other if needed. My closest neighbor Tom never had any children, but he did adopt all of us kids living in the neighborhood. His house was often the meeting point. He even waited at the bus stop for all of us at the end of the day just to make sure we all got home safely.
I grew up in an environment that kept me well protected without me even consciously realizing what was happening. I never had to be suspicious of anyone or guard my possessions from lurking strangers. I am surrounded by wide-open spaces which allow me the privacy to do what I want without having to worry about bothering or offending anyone. My environment has created a nice, secure bubble for my existence. The big city must be outside my bubble which causes me to feel insecure and out of place. I guess I need to broaden my horizons a little.
I was driving into Pittsburgh last Saturday, and I felt completely lost and greatly overwhelmed. I was really grateful for the two friends who were with me and did most of the leading for the evening. Thinking back on this experience makes me wonder how I came to feel so uncomfortable and out of place in a big city like Pittsburgh.
My entire life has been spent in the small town of Mt. Pleasant. My entire family lives within five minutes of each other. I know most of the people at the grocery store and just about everyone that I pass on the street. We never lock doors or worry about being mugged late at night. It is a relatively safe environment.
To make my life even simpler, I don’t live in the actual town. I live in what is known as the borough. On three sides of my house are tall trees with wildlife scurrying all around. We even get deer coming to visit our garden in the backyard. The fourth side of my house offers a wonderful view of the farmer’s field.
We have neighbors who are more like relatives to us than simply neighbors. Any of us would go out of our way to help the other if needed. My closest neighbor Tom never had any children, but he did adopt all of us kids living in the neighborhood. His house was often the meeting point. He even waited at the bus stop for all of us at the end of the day just to make sure we all got home safely.
I grew up in an environment that kept me well protected without me even consciously realizing what was happening. I never had to be suspicious of anyone or guard my possessions from lurking strangers. I am surrounded by wide-open spaces which allow me the privacy to do what I want without having to worry about bothering or offending anyone. My environment has created a nice, secure bubble for my existence. The big city must be outside my bubble which causes me to feel insecure and out of place. I guess I need to broaden my horizons a little.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A New Nature
A new species of trees is found:
Steel enforced trunks
And silver branches methodically arranged
Steel enforced trunks
And silver branches methodically arranged
With wavelengths passing through.
Sunshine on a winter day in Pennsylvania is very rare. So it only makes sense that my eyes are magnetically drawn to the setting sun. As I sit and watch the blazing horizon, the beauty of the Crayola sky is interrupted by telephone and cable wires. At first it annoys me because even alone out in nature I cannot seem to escape the intrusions of society. The paved road acting as a partition between the forest and the field of harvested corn – the cell phone towers piercing the sky – the water tower standing above the trees in the distance – the gas wells tucked in the farthest corner of the farmer’s livelihood.
The longer I sit here, which is not long because of the biting wind, I begin to wonder if these objects are actually intrusions. The telephone lines in particular draw my attention. The branches and wires intermingle as if it was the way God had originally intended. They make allowances for each other – moving in harmony as the winter winds pass through. They symbolize progress, change, and flexibility. They have now become a part of nature and its landscape.
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