wind

ride

2006-03-08T18:13:00.000-08:00

Class got out at its typical time. It was different when I stepped outside strapping my bike helmet. The sun was still out. It surprised me with its presence, and brought joy to my spirit. The clouds overlaying the sun's trail were soft, like a watercolor painting with hues blending in and out to make a masterpiece. The tones were somewhat muted and gentle.

My mile ride home goes by quick. It's mostly downhill which felt cold against my exposed toes. As spring is on the horizon, I am reminded of new life that comes. The joys the sun brings fills my memory. Days are longer, the sun beats down stronger, the beauties of seasons. You don't know what you have till it's gone. Then when it comes back, you appreciate it all the more.

change

2006-03-05T19:26:00.000-08:00

The lack there of. I have found that snow builds character. The coming and going of seasons with distinct definitions of the effects of those seasons are important to my survival. When the first frost occurred on my lawn, It was time to dig up the gladiola bulbs and make sure the leaves have been raked off the ground. When the first snow fell, it melted on the warm rock it landed on; however, the temperature continued to drop and the ground acclimated to the surrounding degrees to allow this beautiful form of water blanket its inferior matter with a glow of clean crisp snow. When the layers of snowfall accumulated, each crystal, with its own distinct shape, created a grave of fallen angels for a young child's enjoyment. For nothing brings greater joy than to bundle up in snow pants and fall in the snow, laying there as it slowly makes your back grow numb. I remember making snowflakes out of folded up paper, cutting little triangles and slits to create an interesting design, and during some storms, I would focus on single flakes that fell infront of my face and land on my black mitten and realize that God's design of every flake far surpasses my simple paper-cutting skills. Their three dementional structure lasted only for seconds on my warm hand as they changed from solid to liquid to gas.

These dreams of snow would be all that infiltrated my mind in the September, October months when all the leaves had fallen and I had my fill of leave forts. The snow too would loose its mystery come late February. By this time, I was ready to see the tulips pop out of the stone hard garden next to my front door. For once I saw their green leaves protrude through the soil, I knew that spring was on its way.

Spring brings joy. I can take in a deep breath without discomfort in my lungs. Breathing in the scent of trees blossuming and grass growing is like none other. The first day my parents would let me run outside with my bare feet was always monumental. Shoes are for the civilized I thought, and I preferred the barbaric. The spring also brought spring cleaning of my playhouse in the back yard. I would sweep out the dirt that might have accumulated over the winter and wash the curtains as they got to be dusty. I remember enjoying laying on my front sidewalk and letting ants run over my legs and hands; they would tickle me, displacing one hair at a time. I would form a triangle around them with my thumbs and pointer fingers to try and force them to climb on my hands. Once they did, I would make a jungle gym out of my fingers, creating different paths for them to crawl on.

The main distinction between spring and summer was the lack of school. For summer always took me by surprise with the temperature slowly increasing till it hit its max in the 90s. Summer also meant it was soon my birthday. And my birthday was my second favorite day of the year after Christmas. Summer meant I could wear shorts (if it was over 60 degrees outside). If it was over 70 degrees, I could turn on the sprinkler and play in my contrived rain; it's funny how running back and forth through a moving flow of water would entertain me for hours. Above anything special about summer, going to my grandparents' cabin topped everything. The drive took one hour. The drive is straight up Highway 55. It only requires 7 turns from my driveway to my grandparents' driveway which I found so fascinating. I would always wear my swimsuit before leaving home, so once we arrived, I could run down the stairs and jump in the water (which is usually where I would find my grandparents).

Summer always felt short, especially as I age. The wind started to blow. The trees transform from a monochromatic shade of deep green, to multiple varieties of yellow, orange, and red. Driving into Wisconsin stunned me to see the fields of trees with their vibrant colors fill my vision. These deciduous trees created a dream of a playground when they dropped their leaves. I would rake and create a maze of walls and paths with the thick cover of leaves. I loved putting on a sweater and warm socks for the first time and feeling the wind grow stronger against my neck. I knew that as the wind grew stronger, as the trees grew naked, and as the degrees diminished, winter was on its way, and the cycle started all over again.

Living in a climate void of the distinct seasons leaves me lacking. It is good to remember the feelings every season brings. I appreciate Aldo Leopolds book the Sand County Almanac with it's different depictions of every month of the year. The different animals he viewed, the different feelings he had with the days passing. As Thoreau says,
Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.
That is my goal as I live in a different climate than what I grew to love. I want to continue to appreciate the beauty and subtle changes the sun brings around me in San Luis Obispo.

sister

2006-03-04T16:52:00.000-08:00

Here I sit with a once blank page of paper, my sister to my right, and a pen in hand. We made it up the steepest climb she's seen in a while, for Minnesota doesn't offer many foothills. She just picked me a flower to press, now she's taking my picture. So I will sit here pretending not to see her. My hands are covered in mud. Our climb up required a bit of crawling up the muddy slopes.

This view is like none other that I've seen, and it only takes 27 minutes on foot from my front door. With Madonna straight ahead, the 101 below, Paso Robles to my right, and rolling foothills in all directions, I am in awe of its beauty. I forget what I am surrounded with. I forget there are so many adventures within the small San Luis Obispo vicinity. It's funny to see a barbed wire fence in front of me while I sit on this hill of a mountain. Who put it there? What were they blocking off or trying to keep in/out? Maybe sheep used to graze this hill in days past.

Thoreau did a lot of exploring right in his own backyard. He was one who believed that exploring within a 10-mile vicinity was the best way to discover the landscape. Who needs to fly to exotic lands when there are beautiful foothills in all directions. Walking to this spot was enjoyable. I don't often walk with a companion, but my sister was perfect company. She was fascinated with the expensive houses as we were walking through city streets.

It has been wonderful having her here in California. She is one of my biggest connections with home. She knows my insides like no other. I have found that I can get so consumed with school that I forget about people around me. When she came last Monday, I was so stressed the amount of studying I had to do. It's hard for me to get beyond those thoughts and enjoy her company. This walk was a perfect escape from school life. I hope I can show her how much I love her. I do realize that I get refreshed when I'm able to spend time outside of my house.

I hope I don't get too busy with what I find important that I miss out on beauty around me. Beauty in relationships is the first thing I neglect when life gets busy, but I am discovering that they are one of the most important qualities that gives pleasure to the mind and senses. Walking with Kara brings peace to my spirit. Arm in arm. She reminds me of what's truly important.

The clouds took over the sky;
it was time to descend.
It was muddy
and fear overtook me.
Falling to my death.
We held onto roots,
slid on butts, and
screamed.
Fearful thoughts overwhelmed my mind;
were we ever going stand again?
The ground appeared closer
than I thought possible.
Death seemed farther than before;
life was close at hand.
I stood, held my breath,
and ran.

mud

2006-02-20T12:02:00.000-08:00

English 380 met at the Crops Unit. I arrived on my bike after riding in the cool wind. I forgot my jacket, but I knew I could survive; I've felt worse winds on my skin. We began our journey headed out through the orchards where I saw almond, walnut, and avocado trees growing. There were two rows of almonds growing, one where fruit was budding, and the other with flowers in full bloom. Professor Marx explained the intricacy of pruning; it is an art. Looking at the detail of the flowers and smelling the buds was closer than I've ever been to a growing almond. Chris suggested that I smell the almond tree's flower. Its smell was so sweet, and it's color of white with a subtle pink made its appearance soft and warm. The rows of these trees lined the orchard with blooms and soon nuts to be enjoyed for their nutrition and distinct flavor. I've decided that my backyard will someday have these fruitful trees covering its landscape; at least I hope that's the case.

As we continued to walk, the soil grew moist as we got closer to Stenner Creek. Sycamores lined the water with their branches spanning and intertwining with other tree varieties. A red-tailed hawk flew above searching for food below. The sun felt warm at this particular spot. The breeze was subtle, and I felt a sense of contentment walking with my fellow peers, exploring the vast land of Cal Poly.

We continued and entered the organic farm. This is were the journey became more of an adventure. The mud started to trap us, creating each step heavier than the prior. I wore the wrong shoes this morning with gaps in the heal where more mud resided. We made it over to the organic farm; the workers were very informative in the process of this farm. The land these crops grew on has only been farmed for 2 years. They practice a rotation of the crops; letting one section rest while the other section is being harvested.

As I looked out over the crops, beautiful shades of maroon, forest green, lime green, yellow, and many others were layered throughout the rows. There was such order to the plants; it reminded me of the I used to grow with my father except large scale, where green beans grew next to tomatoes which grew next to squash. The diversity in the crop is something so foreign to my eyes beyond my own garden. Growing up in the Midwest, most fields harvested corn and only corn. Acres and acres of corn typically sold and processed to make high fructose corn syrup to add to Coca Cola or Trix. Soybeans are also a large crop in Minnesota. Living in California, I have been fascinated that if drive 5 miles, I can see 10 different varieties of crops out my window. Such diversity I am not accustomed to. This organic farm was this experience multiplied. Seeing kale grow next to leeks, which grow next to beets, which grow next to lettuce. I just wanted to stand and gaze and recognize all the different varieties of vegetables growing, but the walk continued.

The mud got deeper, so I decided to follow other students lead and take off my shoes. This moist soil felt refreshing in between my toes. My feet loose their callus in the winter months when they are always protected by shoes. When summer comes, they grow tuff; they are ready to run down the street over pebbles and twigs with enough protection to keep my senses from pain. Today, my soft feet felt the rough terrain I was exposing them to, so I washed off my shoes and covered my bear paws.

This walk was full of action. We continued and arrived at our next stop to observe a cow liking her newborn calf. I saw this animal’s placenta, and the fluid that was covering its skin. What a magnificent site.

We arrived at the CSA pickup site. Malarie explained to us in greater detail the process of purchasing organic vegetables grown on the land. Animals were wandering throughout from goats to roosters. There was a turkey lying contently in the grass. It allowed students to caress its feathers without a flinch. I was greatly impressed with a small house made of hay barrels, stucco, and mud allowing a cool temp in the summer and a warm temp in the winter. I am continually impressed with Cal Poly students' minds and their creativity.

This was a beautiful day. The wind blew, I felt goosebumps, I saw a greater glimpse to the vast land of Cal Poly, and now I am in a warm library allowing my fingers to unthaw from the cool temperature. This campus has so much to offer.

pause

2006-02-17T13:51:00.000-08:00

I sit on my porch. The rain slowly drips down around me. I see my breath as I exhale I forget it's there until I enter the cold. People walk with their hats trying to protect their eyes from the wet. A pool of water overtakes the base of my driveway and soft drops bounce leaving a ring behind. A bird flies and lands on the electrical pole in front of my house as it chirps gaily. The sun comes out, and I see that the M on Madonna is dry.

I think rain stirs creativity in the soul. It brings a lot of emotions to me, some of sorrow, some of joy that life will be spurred from its presence.

The magnolia out front of my house has fresh dew on its leaves. The flowers are still blooming, not hiding from the midday rain. They must feel joy themselves knowing that they will be able to bloom yet another day. Their fuchsia color is fresh to my eyes. Some pedals have turned a stale shade of brown, yet some are just popping out of their blossom for their first site at the sun, if the clouds did not hide it. The clouds have moved east bringing the rain with them and leaving my magnolias and me a hint of sun, and a deep blue sky. I appreciate the vivid color of the sky more so when I don't see it for a few days. Distance makes the heart grow fonder they say. My heart is fonder.

It's funny when people drive by so fast in front of my porch, for my road is only a block in between 2 stop signs. I wonder where they are trying to get in such a hurry that they need to speed only to slow to a screeching halt to wait for traffic to go by. There goes another one. One night, I was in my room, and I heard a huge screech and screaming and chatter about outside of my window. I looked to see, and a young man was getting off the ground trying to pick up his crotch rocket that had skidded across the road 20 feet. He was cruising down my road well over 50 miles per hour when he lost control and flew off his bike. He was okay, his bike was scratched, and it left me pondering. The need for speed, excitement, and trill runs so many people actions. This thought made me think how I myself need to slow down and have an excuse to. What is it in human brains that we need to go 10 miles faster than the speed limit just to arrive at our destination 3-7 minutes faster. It's almost as if we're on fast-forward. Someone press the pause button please. I need to catch my breath.

In Minnesota, I remember feeling a pause when the snow would downpour, and it would leave me trapped in my house. I never got a snow day being home schooled; I was jealous of the normal kids who listened to the radio and hoped their school was concerned enough to close down the school for the day for the safety of the children. My desk in the basement was of no danger for me to travel to, but just knowing that if I was a normal child, and I did travel to school, I wouldn't have to go. Jealousy would infest my thoughts, but I would get over it after I did my studies and put on my snow-gear and would lie in the snow. It's funny how weather can cause a change in lifestyle. I do think that the rain is a pause button, or at least a slow motion button. It's easy to make life busy and complicated; when it rains, I assess if I want to sacrifice getting wet riding my bike to that destination, or waiting for the bus to come. More often than not, what seemed so important is put into perspective.

I stop, breathe, listen, and absorb.

A few days later: I have to explain the funny situation of riding my bike home in the rain.

Sunday, February 19 was a sunny morning. I wore tights, a skirt, my yellow sweater, and moccasins to church that morning. I left my bike at school the night before because it was raining and hailing so hard, I could not ride home safely. I took the bus to school from church, which was a funny experience in itself to get on this empty bus to go to school on a Sunday. The sky was full of action; the sun shone bright. When arriving at school, I decided to play piano in the Music Building for a few minutes before riding home. When I came out, soft drops ascended on my head. I started laughing. By the time I arrived at my bike, the rain was falling harder and more viscous, but I could not leave it there one more day. So I decided to get on and head home. Students walking to do their weekend studying were laughing at me. I rode on and made it to the top of California, when the rain settled and hail emerged from the angry clouds. This is when my laughter grew louder. For who is in a hailstorm on their bike? At least I had my helmet on. I decided to cruise through puddles because I was already as wet as I was going to be, I mine as well have fun. I finally arrived home safe and sound. My roommate Chloe spotted me entering the driveway, and she greeted me with strong laughter as she saw me drenched. It's fun to be in the rain, and a little hail doesn't hurt. Tomato soup is good.

wake

2006-02-13T18:00:00.000-08:00

wet face
hide from air under bag
hat on
feet in mukluks
campfire nearby
people laughing, go to sleep...
laying
stars above
waking to moisture
sleep
wake
sleep, roll over
wake
air is fresh
sun peaks
beams of warmth
feeling courageous
sit
ache

learning to eat

2006-02-10T15:12:00.000-08:00

I am very challenged by Wendell Berry's The Pleasures of Eating essay. I grew up with a garden, watching my green beans grow, so I can see an appreciate his stance on the appreciation found when actually harvesting and participating in the cultivation and growth of food. This essay was helpful for me to pinpoint specific areas of my life, as a city dweller, that can positively affect the food system. His list of ways to participate is as follows:

1) Participate in food production to the extent that you can.
I hope to grow a garden when I own my own land. My roommates participate in CSA gardening; they help cultivate, wash, and pack vegetables for the program. I am encouraged by their participation and am considering joining their efforts next year. I can grow basil in my kitchen window, but I just tend to forget the essential watering step of keeping plants. Hopefully that will change as I age.
2) Prepare your own food.
This is at times difficult being a busy college student, but it is possible.
3) Learn the origins of the food you buy, and buy the food that is produced closest to your home.
This is also at times difficult, but I find the more I am conscious regarding where my food is produced, the more I appreciate it. I enjoy buying produce/vegetables at the farmers market from the Cal Poly organic farm. Their carrots are so juicy and sweet.
4) Whenever possible, deal directly with a local farmer, gardener, or orchardist.
5) Learn, in self-defense, as much as you can of the economy and technology of industrial food production.
6) Learn what is involved in the best farming and gardening.
I am excited to learn.
7) Learn as much as you can, by direct observation and experience if possible, of the life histories of the food species.

Learning is the main theme running through every step of the process, and I am looking forward to learning throughout life ways to implement these steps into my life. As Berry states,

Eaters, that is, must understand that eating takes place inescapably in the world, that it is inescapably an agricultural act, and that how we eat determines, to a considerable extent, how the world is used.

I want to be considerate of the way I use the world. I want to live a life appreciative of my blessings and thankful to God, my provider, for taking care of my needs. Food is essential, and it is pleasurable. I appreciate how Wendell explains that more pleasure is found in eating when understanding of the foods lifespan that took place. Thinking is good for me.

silk

2006-02-09T23:33:00.000-08:00

The glisten of light flutters back and forth on it: moving, swaying with the subtle breeze. Its purpose is to catch whatever might fly by. It expands five feet wide and six feet tall protruding in all directions it can find a place to attach. It hides than reappears but never reveals its entire identity, it's too smart for that. It connects to the branch of a young tree, to a potted plant, then crosses diagonally to the porch beam holding lattice above. The more I look around me, the more these silk strands overtake my view. Near and far they wave back and forth, wooing in, trapping, entangling, enticing, tricking, and sticking. The sunbeams slide back and forth as if it's found its very own jungle gym. Birds laugh at their inferior flying friends knowing they are free from the trap these spun strands create. What is death to the trapped brings life to the builder.

absorb

2006-02-05T19:58:00.000-08:00

The hills in front of me cause great appreciation. The variety in the waves and folds, subtle layers of stratification make their face behind what looks like a green blanket covering the ridges. This spotted forest appears as if clouds are hanging high casting their superior shadow, but the sky is clear. The hills look as smooth as frosting applied with a steady hand to be appreciated by the inheritor.

I see endless directions my feet could traverse, every angle would provide a unique experience, but a similar thread would weave throughout every adventure. Although nature brings unique experiences in every location, it is constant. The wind blows the same without considering who it is drafting upon; the cool breeze that tickles my face takes me to a place of contentment.

Explore. Discover.. Rest... Absorb... This is a natural progression. Like the budding of a flower; a sequence needs to occur in order for true beauty to be revealed. I believe this is my favorite thing: to first explore and to find a place away from civilization, something that I trick myself into believing I have seen before any other eye, to sit and allow that treasure to soak in and bring peace. I experience God through his creation; I see his face all around. His glory is shown. Drinking this in brings peace to my emotions like a tonic.

If I were to travel around the circumference of the base of this range, I would see it's different angles, different faces, different shadows, but I choose to sit. It is odd to find a place of true silence, not in the sense that my ears are free from vibrations of waves, but manufactured noise by human power is ceaseless. Now all I hear are the chirps of far away birds; this noise reminds me of spring when the Blue Jays would start their call declaring that the death has passed and life is at hand . A bug just flew by.

descend

2006-02-03T12:06:00.000-08:00

The hike up to Rockslide Ridge began at the Cal Poly Horse unit. I got off the bus at 10:00, and had 15 minutes max to traverse across campus to arrive before the group left. On the bus, my stomach was upset and my head started pounding; I was afraid that I wasn't going to make it up the hill. Despite my fears, I made it to the Horse Unit in the nick of time.

We walked. I looked at the land, and was reminded how blessed I am to study at Cal Poly with such a playground around me. The land seemed to interact with us with birds soaring high and the wind blowing ever so soft. We arrived at the _ where the sun glistened on the soft ripples of water. I looked down and saw a tiny flower growing at my feet. It took all the self-control in me not to pick it and press it for my enjoyment.

Reaching the Rockslide Ridge, I had the option to continue upward, journal, or descend on my own. My stomach was still churning and I was dizzy, so I decided to sit and absorb my surroundings. I sat on a rock not too far from where the other students ascended. I could hear their voices as they continued to climb growing fainter and fainter in the distance. Time drifted by as I sat and felt the wind across my back.

I was without a watch, but I thought it was time for me to find my way back. I decided I wanted to find a different way back then the way we came. So I went west and Poly Cannon was on my left; If not for the barbed wire fence, I would have descended towards the fascinating structures. I continued to walk and walk until I came to quite a steep cliff. I wasn't sure where my feet should take me, but I certainly could not turn back to go home the way I came. There were some people down below seeming so small, almost like toy soldiers walking so slowly.

I turned to the right and began my decent. Fear at times overtook me; the slope was very steep. I came to this spot next to a huge rock where I stood for a few minutes. Suddenly, out of the bushes, a mother deer jumped out and charged down the deep slope. It was almost as if I was watching an Olympian skier exit their holding box to charge the steep slope below. She ran with control and without fear. I wondered if I had startled her and caused her to reveal her presence. I stood there reflecting and watching the doe at the bottom of the hill. She stood there and watched me, at least I thought she was watching me, but not 5 minutes later, a fawn charged from this bush after waiting for minutes till the right moment came for him too to expose himself. It occurred to me that the mother was waiting for her child in anticipation to ensure that he would make it safe next to her. They ran into the landscape side by side.

I continued my decent somewhat sliding down the hill to try to find the path with least resistance. My journey became very familiar when to my right was the very rock that peered down on me just a week before as I was traveling the path less traveled. And sure enough, the yucca plants all seemed so familiar. It was like I was driving home and arrived in my neighborhood. I had no time to sit and catch up, so I said my hellos and continued on me way.

My feet brought me closer and closer to the road, until I crossed the creek and climbed the stairs to arrive safely on Poly Cannon Road.

path less traveled

2006-01-25T08:02:00.000-08:00

The journey continues into Poly Cannon. As I walked, my eyes were open; it felt good to be present in my surroundings. To see little blossoms on the trees as I passed. To feel the bark of the eucalyptus soaring high in the sky.

As I continued, my eyes were drawn to a set of log steps going down toward a flowing stream. I decided to enter the path less traveled. As I descended, the water got louder and louder. To cross the stream, I had to use stepping-stones; this is where my adventure began. It's fascinating how nature brings my mind to childhood in so many ways. It was the biggest thrill to hop from one stone to another. I felt brave.

I made it safe across the "raging rapids" and continued on my way. I continued along the path as it ascending toward the sun. As I climbed, my path became narrower and narrower. I ducked under a branch in attempts to continue, but it had different motives. It clawed and grabbed my backpack with no intentions of releasing. I charged with all my might, and sure enough I broke from its grasp. Freedom. But not for long. I continued and all around were green spear like sprouts coming from yucca plants with their black tips at the end, sharp as needles. I initially was able to dodge these plants, but I continued and they began to overtake my path. I could not avoid them, so I decided to trudge through. They gave me no mercy. Some pierced me good, one on my arm, one on my leg, but never on my feet. I felt like the plants were asking me not to continue, like they were protecting a treasure from people like me who wanted to explore and see things few eyes had seen, but I was not a good listener.

I was amazed at all the trails around me as they weaved in and out almost as if I was in a maze, but what was the final destination? If I got off path, there was another path not too far up the hill. I continued to walk, not sure where I was going or what I was in search for. But I was ready for wherever my feet decided to go.

My eyes focused on a bend far off in the distance. As I continued to weave back and forth along the narrow dirt path, dodging trees and trying not to slip down the hill, I finally reached the point beyond the bent. To my left a huge rock formation was displayed. I looked at it for a while and a face appeared almost as if it was watching me, waiting for me to see it's beauty. Its intricate shadows and carvings created a piece of art within nature. I am beginning to realize that this creation that I am surrounded with is ever more diverse and complex than any hand could design or mind imagine. Yes, humans can sculpt and paint and draw, but creative ability does not come close to experience the creation that surrounds us. To my right a steep cliff plummeted into foliage below. I found a flat rock to sit on, and I pondered.

Time spent at this spot went fast. The sun was setting faster than I had expected, so I got back on foot and continued forward. I hoped that by walking forward, I would find a path back to the main road. As I walked, I reached an open field the 3 cactuses growing. I looked in fascination that they could grow in this lush atmosphere. Cactus is a plant I am only familiar with in western movie landscapes as tumble-weed rolls by and dust is swirling in the air, that or it's growing in a small pot in a friends picture-window. I remember slowly approaching this potted plant's needle, touching it, and finding some odd pleasure in the pain it would surge through my pointer. Seeing this in its natural environment not far from lush grass and trees was a memorable moment.

I continued on, and blocking my path was a fence running along as far as I could see. I realized this is where my adventure had to end. I then descended down the hill and met up with Poly Cannon Road, to walk back into civilization with a feeling of greater connection with the beautiful and diverse landscape I have been surrounded with my years at Cal Poly.

climb

2006-01-24T20:55:00.000-08:00

I finally decided to climb. The desire has been raging inside for a year at least. The love began at my grandparent's cabin on Lake Silvia, MN. Outside their small cabin, a huge pine tree grew. I would often hide up there when I wanted to get away from the world around me. "Where's Ruth? Check in the tree." I remember one day climbing to the very top, which gave me an incomparable view of my most favorite body of water. This love continues as I age. I was able to travel to Nigeria when I was 18 where I spent a month with a group of orphan boys living together in a place called the Transition House. There were ripe mangos growing all around the premises, so I could not resist but climb and eat. Elijah was my companion; he would call me monkey girl, which made me laugh..

Today was the day to reconnect with my roots. I was walking down Poly Cannon Road in search of an adventure. I came across this lone ranger of a tree. Its bark was somewhat smooth; the trunk diverged up about 6 1/2 feet, which was just high enough to give me a bit of a challenge to climb. My skills were a bit rusty, and as people were passing by on their afternoon jog, they saw me attempting to climb this humble tree. I took off my shoes in hopes that my bare paws would have better traction than my Birkenstocks. Soon, a jogger stopped and asked me if I would like a boost. She was laughing, which made me think my silly adventure was somehow bringing her joy. I accepted her offer with much appreciation and made my way up up and away. She handed me my shoes to protect my feet on the decent.

I would have thought climbing would be easier as I age due to my lengthened limbs, that wasn't the case. All that aside, I made it for the first time in a long time. I sat there for a few moments running through memories, then I looked out. "I feel like Thoreau" I thought to myself. He climbed trees and discovered things he would have never seen without climbing high.

"For I discovered new mountains in the horizon which I had never seen before, --so much more of the earth and the heavens. I might have walked about the foot of the tree for three score years and ten, and yet I certainly should never have seen them."
-Walking

I don't believe I discovered new mountains, but I did discover a twig forked between the branch I was sitting on. It was dangling in the air which fascinated me because it had to have fallen in an ever so specific way to have hung the way it did. It was there for my eyes only.

The bark of this sycamore was new to my eyes. It felt like a scaly layer of a rough over a smooth base. Its variety of colors fascinated me. When I looked from afar, the bark reminded me of an impressionist painting because of it's distinct chunks of colors appearing to lack detail, but as I got closer, intricate patters and different shades of grey covered it's surface.

Being in the air reminded me that being a kid is such a freeing time. Yes, I was immature and wore big glasses, but to unabashedly climb trees as a frequent activity seems so liberating. So much is making sense all of the sudden. My favorite books were Bernstein Bears, I've always dreamed of living in a tree house, I loved the movie Swiss Family Robinson, and I love climbing trees. There's something magical up here. I was made to breath this air.

I need to get up more often.

drip

2006-01-22T20:51:00.000-08:00

My most favorite thing to experience is sitting in a car listening to music in the background while it's raining all around. I was able to enjoy this driving up to Sacramento. We stopped, and sat. I sit in my car watching the raindrops cascade down the windshield. They are racing. Are they trying to prove something, how quick they are, how eager they are to be seeped back into the soil, how alive they are? I would be content watching this for hours.

The sky shows many emotions. It looks angry at some spots, it looks in turmoil, it also looks like it's giving hope, because at certain spots the clouds part. Through the hole that's created, a stream of sun peers through. That stream would not have been visible without the clouds. They act like a team working to bring joys to those who stop to see. I'm thankful my eyes are open today.

Observing the sky creates multiple emotions in me: sorrow, joy, life, destruction, anger, beauty, Feeling alive. I love being from Minnesota and watching people from California get so disturbed when the temperature reaches 45 degrees. It's funny to me. In the same way, weather can bring identity. I feel pride when thinking of what I have endured. The sub-zero temps, the snowstorms, and the added clothing that comes with the winter months. It's especially funny to see people become discombobulated when their hair gets wet. Ha. I love how it makes people slow down and crates an excuse for my hair to look matted and untamed.

It brings so much life to a dry land. I love listening to it pit pat on my ceiling when lying in bed. Especially at my aunt and uncle Leighton's where I would sleep in their attic; I remember one night vividly. I was laying in bed listening to the drumming of the raindrops on the angled ceiling above. I found myself so content and exhilarated eavesdropping on natures tears, when in the distance, a train rumbled past causing even more of a vibration and a new rhythm to the percussion of the drops. My heart jumped in the band creating a three-piece musical ensemble. It's easy to tune out the sounds rain creates, but when I listen, it's breathtaking.

I like to sit in my car when raining is because I feel safe. Don't get me wrong, jumping in puddles and running in the rain is exhilarating, but I have this hidden desire to feel comfort. Sometimes my feeling of adventure overtakes my need for comfort. I like those moments. They seemed to be more prevalent when I was younger. Rain meant that dirt turned into mud, and mud was the best ingredient to make pies. It also meant when I was at my grandparents' cabin, we would put the fruity tablecloth on the kitchen table and get out the playing cards. Something warm to drink would brew on the stove, and we'd play games till the moon was bright. I loved rainy days. I now love them for new reasons.

Rain brings new smells. The earthworms come to the surface and cause this fishy odor. Even though it smells gross, it reminds me of life. This is the perfect time to go fishing.

It stopped raining. It's such a strange and fascinating occurrence to see rain fall in the distance but not experience it. It's like getting off of the baseball field and sitting in the cheap seats. Seeing all the interworkings of the game without experiencing it. I appreciate both aspects.

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girls pick

2006-01-22T19:47:00.000-08:00

It was the girls’ turn to plan the date. We decided to be adventurous and take a hike. It was not difficult to find a beautiful trail when living in San Luis Obispo; we stumbled upon a trail next to Lake Lopez. The day was brisk, but the warmth of the sun gleamed on us all.

Lush scenery surrounded our steps. We walked up the path in search of an adventure. The boys collected little treasures for us along the way. My favorite was a smashed bottle cap David had discovered, and it made its way to my special box.

A fallen tree trunk fell over to the left of the path with moss covering its entire surface. We climbed and jumped from its height. I have always enjoyed jungle gyms. It's amazing the life that can grow from something that is dead. What beauty can spring. We continued to walk and my eyes were gazing up at the beautiful trees around me. They seemed so ready to be climbed. I have always enjoyed climbing. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment or freedom; a larger than life feeling that I have overcome fear and obstacles, but I passed on this temptation to climb. I didn't want to fall in front of my boyfriend. Ha.

I correct myself, my favorite thing that David found was this Banana Slug. We watched it for a few minutes, then Brian explained that if you lick the slug, that it would leave a tingle on your tongue. Brian was the first to test the theory, and sure enough we all agreed that it left a numb tingling sensation on your tongue if you give the banana a little lick. We put him back and on the way back, he was gone. He was a pretty speedy slug.

We continued to hike and stopped to eat some snacks. A blanket was laid down on top of some rocky soil where we played a game of pickup sticks which is the first time I've done that in nature. We also had contests to see who could throw rocks the farthest into the great landscape in front of us. The boys always won. They were happy.

We finally reached the top of the hill and saw the vast beauty of creation in front of us. Trees layered the horizon covering different foothills in the distance. Where we stopped, there was a distinct tree all alone perfect to climb and observe the scene. Something I noticed on not only this tree, but on all the trees around was this hanging Spanish moss from almost every branch. It reminded me almost of weeping willows which were my most favorite tree growing up. I would take the branches and make crowns from them and try to swing from branch to branch just to fall on my butt. This dangling moss is beautiful in my eyes. The sun was about to set over the vibrant trees and the rocky cliffs.

The wind picked up, and we were starting to get chilly so we began our decent. We made it down in time to watch the sun set over the glistening lake. The sky was filed with beautiful hues of purple, pink, and orange. The clouds were visibly in motion as they circulated these different colors as the sun continued to set. It was a peaceful feeling. It was quiet and vivid. A surge of peace overwhelmed my senses.

it's bright

2006-01-22T19:27:00.000-08:00

Why is the moon out?
I do not remember seeing the glow of the moon as much as I have the past few weeks. I am not referring to the dark nights when its presence is obvious, but I'm referring to its visibility in the winter days. The winder days on the California coast do not compare to those in Minnesota. During the day, the moon was typically hidden from the naked eye, but at night, it would make the whole existence glow reflecting down upon the snow.

The more I look at it, the more intrigued I become. It's presently a fingernail above a nearby foothill. It almost looks like it's trying to find a place to hide. It must feel so naked when the lights are on. And I am reminded again of the wind. As motion continues around me, the moon stands still. Its glow radiates to the ends of the earth. My basic understanding of our universe is that the moon is 24,000 miles away from my current location, but as I stare, it draws me in closer and closer. Almost to the same neighborhood.

What a crazy thought that the moon I see will soon be visible to tribes in the Philippines. The same glow that I use to walk to and fro from classes at night illuminates children's' night games in Tennessee. It's one thing that connects every person, on every continent. It's one thing that we have all seen, that is that we have the capability to see. The more I think about it, the more my mind gets entangled in its beauty.

One night, driving home from Sacramento, it was hovering over the horizon. It was a bright yellow color, and it was 3 times its typical size I have ingrained in my memory. I just gazed at it while buildings and trees and houses were flashing in front of it. I soon forgot and was engaged in conversation to later discover the distance it had traveled over the sky. As it traveled upward, it fit back to the typical stereotyped size of a moon I have in my memory.
What a fascinating aspect of life.

it blows

2006-01-22T19:20:00.000-08:00

As I return to the wind, I am reminded of the freedom of childhood games: throwing leaves in the air to watch them swirl above me and soon fall to the ground, throw oak seeds in the air to watch them spin like a helicopter, and imagine ragweed bouncing down the street.

I pride myself in being a girl and having hair that I can unabashedly free from captivity and let soar. The wind makes it alive. As it whips, it doesn't think of being polite or reserved. Don't get me wrong, boys too can experience this freedom, but rare is the case.

Just sitting here looking and connecting with my surroundings grounds me to simple pleasures I often overlook. Pleasures of the feel of an ant crawling over my arm and the feel of every hair being pushed aside. A green bug has landed on my jeans. It's made it from one leg to the other crawling and exploring the grooves and bends of the fabric. It's like watching an obstacle course. It's been five minutes that I have watched this little bug. It's made it all the way across my pants to my left shirtsleeve. bugs are weird.

listening to the wind

2006-01-18T23:00:00.000-08:00

As the wind blows softly across the landscape, melodies of sounds explode around me. The more I listen, the greater the orchestra. First a hollow wisp that I feel passing over my auricles. The distant leaves clap and pause. Long reeds whip and wave like a salsa dancer's gown flowing with her quick motions.

Suddenly all comes to a halt just to be heard anew. When I shut my eyes, I can spatially pinpoint where I am located next to my surroundings just based on the noise the wind brings blowing on close by (and far away) objects.

The red-tailed hawk flies in the distance. I can imagine the snap of it's wings as it circles relentlessly soaring with the wind at it's back.

Sound stops but movement continues. A sound means harsh commotion in the landscape, but in silence, the violent arguments turns to the whisper of a lullaby. Although sound in this form personifies anger, I would rather have rich emotion than to be encircled with a polite whisper. Whispers have their place; rage brings excitement to my every emotions.

Wind demands respect, it does not ask politely. It can be as destructive as it is essential. Growing up in Minnesota, I saw the fantastic displays of tornados brewing in the sky. I have seen the vast destructive nature brought leaving houses torn inside out. I saw the desperation in people’s eyes knowing that this weather pattern left them with nothing. Pain comes when you least expect. How does one take out anger towards the wind?