Nature Writing

The glow of the moon was faint, yet still predominantly illuminated the night sky. Lying down upon the grassy field can really put your world into a new perspective, gazing up into the night sky. Despite the moon’s hazy presence, you are persistent enough to wait outside on the cold ground to watch as the transparent clouds roll by to reveal distant stars. From your frame of reference, you can easily spot each beautiful constellation, seeming to waltz throughout the sky. Back at home, such patterns couldn’t even dare to be seen in the sky; light pollution was prominent from where you came from. Nevertheless, you feel the loving presence of the stars around you, knowing all too well that you are not alone.

I had the opportunity to go stargazing with my new friends at SUNY Geneseo, and let me just say it was the best college experience I have had by far. My friends and I wandered the dark campus, only guided by the faint light of the moon. We walked to the edge of the track and field, making our way to the darkest spot possible. My eyes were glued to the sky, anxiously waiting to see the first stars through the clouds. Sitting upon the cold grass is when it hit me, Vega was shining bright in the sky between a mess of trees and clouds. Little by little, more and more stars started peeking out from behind their transparent barriers. As I lay there with my friends, these stars started to form constellations. Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Pisces, Aquarius–they all danced throughout the sky. You could see the planets amidst the stars, and if you had a good eye, there was no doubt you would see a few shooting stars passing by. The sky was endless, signifying the infinite vast universe we are fortunate enough to exist in.

Sitting outside makes you think about how little you are compared to the rest of the known universe, but even going away to school so far from home gives you an idea of how vast our world is. This was one of many stargazing trips I can’t wait to watch in the future at SUNY Geneseo. –Nicole

Comfort is something we as people strive for, looking for ways to implement it into our lives any chance we get. Going from our lives filled with the discomfort that comes with our busy schedules. It infests our thought through the majority of the day: the want of escaping the bilious feeling of cold industrial white lights that beat on you at a trip to the grocery store, or a tedious office job. The sublime transition from this to the orange glow of the sun that fills you with warmth instead of anxiety, the subtle laughter of your mind as the blades of grass tickle your bare feet, is to many people much more comforting. Filling your house with shelves stocked with processed foods and appliances that help you be more efficient has its own significant impact on a busy life. But finding ways to merge this uncomfortable schedule with one filled with nature as well is simple. Even if that small amount of comfort is just a lonely cactus digging its roots into the inches of soil signifying its home, providing you with its natural shape, and comfort of feeling connected with nature, even if it’s minimal. What do you do in your life to implement nature’s comfort? –Soy

Climate change has become a term that nearly everyone is familiar with. Many times, humans contemplate whether or not they are doing enough to help fight climate change; I know that I do. One way that I have never fully considered was going vegan. I always thought of veganism as something you did for solely the love of animals. But after a recent conversation with my aunt, who happens to be vegan, my viewpoint has shifted. Becoming vegan is the number one way a single human can reduce their carbon footprint. At first, this surprised me; I mean, what about owning a Tesla, right? Wrong. Livestock is humans’ number one contributor to the world’s carbon footprint. It takes 2,400 gallons of water to produce just 1 pound of beef; meanwhile, a pound of whole wheat only needs 180 gallons to be produced.

There are many other interesting connections between the idea of veganism and climate change of which I was unaware. Many of us now have heard of the plastic straw and bag bans happening around the globe, and the pollution in our oceans. Many vegans have pondered this thought because of its subtle irony: we are worried about our pollution killing sea life, while we kill millions of fish every day for consumption. One aspect of veganism that I can personally connect myself to is the burning of the Amazon Rainforest for agricultural purposes. I was lucky enough to have traveled to the Amazon. While there, I realized that we could be responsible for destroying this magnificent ecosystem because of meat. –Sam

The landscape was nothing I haven’t seen before: a packed parking lot, some trees, a playground with children running around, screaming. I advanced from the car toward the break in the forest and made my way up the cracked uneven path. The sounds of playful children and cars roaring by on the highway quickly began to fade as I made my way deeper and deeper into the path.  The steps were built and carved from large pieces of stone that were far different, and stronger than the shale that made up the walls of the gorge. The stream just inches from my feet flowed leisurely by with no rush to escape the small and narrow gap in the rock. I come to a small bridge over the stream, the sounds of civilization are nothing but a distant memory. I cross. Just around the bend, I am left speechless. Stony Brook Falls. I remove my hiking boots and step into the stream, allowing the cool refreshing water to surround my feet. I set down my day pack and roll up the bottoms of my khaki shorts, each step now drawing me closer and closer to the fresh white water calmly rolling down the stacked rock of the cliff. Waist deep now and numb, my temptation to advance grows with each step. Now, just inches from the falls, wide-eyed and blue lipped, I allow my back to press against the jagged rock beyond the falls and feel the cold water run through my hair and down my face. Suddenly, the cold is no longer bothersome. The experience is all that matters. –Sabrina

Our final project of the semester was a collaborative one that took its final form as an ArcGIS story map. Its premise was to explore interactions of sky and earth at a time when smartphones accomplish many of that older instrument’s functions–albeit enabled by complex networks of geosynchronous satellites, data centers, and cell towers. Under this Anthropocene sky, we drew upon nature writing to turn ourselves into astrolabes: every half hour, between 6:00 am and 6:00 pm, one of us skywatche from a particular location on or near campus, took a smartphone photograph to record that moment, and then wrote about earth & sky on the day of November 15, 2018. Our goal was to explore unappreciated connections between these different realms, whether material or imaginative. Have a look at “November Astrolabe” by following this link.

The first snowfall at Geneseo, in which enough snow accumulated on the ground to reach halfway up my calf, was accompanied by mixed feelings among the student population. Two girls were giggling near the College Union, engaged in a snowball war. From my window I could see students sledding down the hill outside of my dorm on milk crates. Contrarily, my roommate declared that she is “boycotting outside” while my friend from Maryland experienced a self-proclaimed existential crisis when witnessing snow fall in the month of November for the first time. And me? My concern lay with the squirrels.

From the moment I arrived on campus, the squirrels fascinated me. At home on Long Island, they are skittish and light in color. The squirrels here are much darker, and possess a shocking amount of courage. They openly rummage through garbage cans and approach students. I once found myself locked an intense stalemate while attempting to enter Jones Hall. A squirrel sat in the doorway, and every time I attempted to move forward it shifted to block my path. Eventually it grew bored and left, but I always ensure that I exercise caution around the little critters.

There had been no sign of the squirrels during the first day after it snowed. I grew worried, as I now consider them to be an integral part of the campus environment. Once students emerged from their warm shelter and began to trudge through the snow, Geneseo appeared to be inhabited again with paths forged by footprints covering the campus. The squirrels returned too, though in fewer numbers than usual. They dart in and out of craters created by boots in search of food and shelter. It is true that the local community depends upon Geneseo, and sometimes, it is not only the humans!          — Alyssa

On October 10 I decided to do my homework outside. Just the previous weekend my parents had come to visit, and my mom asked, “Do you ever do your work outside?” I thought for a second and said “Ummm, no mom it’s too cold now.” Although she was satisfied with that answer, I was not. I had been at Geneseo for over a month and not once had I ventured outside to complete my work. A couple of days after she left I decided to do just that. On October 10th, the weather was warm and welcoming. I found myself at a picnic table by a residence hall close by. I had brought my headphones with the intention of listening to music while I worked; when I have my headphones in I am able to tune out everything else around me and focus. I soon noticed, though, that my music was unnecessary because I had all of the “music” I needed around me. I noticed dogs barking, birds chirping, and squirrels rustling through the nature that surrounded me. At first, I was skeptical about how far I would be able to progress in my work in this environment, but after a short while I was making more progress than I was ever able to do in a silent study room or library. The outdoors was able to bring me a sense of peace and relaxation as I completed my work. I would take short breaks to observe my surroundings and feel the breeze on this beautiful day. Instead of getting distracted after my short breaks I would go right back to my work. This was a great experience and I was promise myself to do work outdoors more often and use the warm weather to my advantage.

Winter happens to be my least favorite time of the year. It is a long, cold season that can return at any given moment. Because I am so lucky, I was able to experience this amazing time of year twice, one being more dramatic than the other. I live exceptionally close to home (about an hour away) and so I tend to go home almost every weekend. While I was home over the previous weekend (the weekend of November 10^th), I was given the pleasure to wake up to a thick, almost full-foot layer of snow outside of my house on Saturday morning. For me, it is not like the movies: sun creeping though the blinds, waking up, a big yawn with theatrical arm stretching, and then, as if never having seen snow before, looking outside and gasping with surprise and delight. No. I dread having to get up in the morning during the winter. I hate that it is light out in the morning, I hate that it is cold everywhere, and I hate that it is so wet.

After dealing with this marvelous blizzard all weekend, when I arrived back on campus Sunday night, I was super surprised to see only leaves on the ground and in the parking lot. After a couple days being back on campus, thinking I was in the clear, I was ever so fortunate to experience snowflakes falling from the sky yet again on Tuesday morning on my way to class without a coat. Although the snow did not stick this time, that does not mean we will be so lucky next time. After ordering some Converse snow boots and bringing my winter coat back with me, I’m only physically ready for the scarring moment when everything is soaked and covered in a thick blanket of white death. Until then, I’m feeling just fine with my high top canvas Converse and black jean jacket getting me though the days.          — Hannah

Often, I find myself losing track of time; lost in the immersion of my own mind. Time passes by quickly in reality but in my mind, every second is like an eternity. The landscape around me roars with chatter and swift moving feet. Shoes can distinctly be heard against the ground; sneakers, boots, and heels disrupt my train of thought. I sit down upon the ledge at the back of Sturges, beautiful vines line the wall all the way to the roof. The vines appear to be racing one another, each attempting to reach the top first. My mind is overcome with thoughts, questions I do not yet have answers to and answers to questions I have yet to ask myself. The ledge transports me into a different state of mind. I look out on the vast valley below; my train of thought is insatiable, I am unable to set my focus on one specific thing. The moving people below act as a canvas for me to draw upon. My eyes transfix upon an individual and my mind imagines who they are and what their story is. This idea of people watching and keen observation is an oddity, yet intrigues me. My elevation above them allows me to look from a heightened perspective, my POV changes as they ascend the concrete steps. Each person marked by a different walk and speed. Accompanied by my music I sing out as loud as I can in my mind. I think of what the music means to me in that specific moment, I reflect on how it makes me feel. My spot on the ledge accompanied by my thoughts and music I am never alone. I can never run out of reflective material, I could daydream forever. As the winter chill approaches my spot begins to lose color and the vines begin to decay. Until Spring…          — Ethan

I’ve never been a morning person. Never. My parents had to drag me out of bed when I was younger so I could make it to school before the 7:40am bell rang. But I’ve always wanted to be a morning person. Specifically, I’ve always wanted to be one of those people to get up at 5:00am and work out so, that’s exactly what I did this summer. I would set my alarm for 5:06am (I am very weird about what time I set my alarms at) and I would run to my gym, which was about a mile away, then continue my workout inside. I’m not much of a runner so one mile was good enough for me. On my short run, I would get to clear my mind and just enjoy the nature that little Fredonia had to offer. I would pass squirrels running around the plush green grass and look up to see birds perched on the telephone lines. I fell in love with that run and I miss it everyday I’m here. I guess I’d label myself as a “wishful early bird,” I enjoy getting up early and wish I did it more often but I will gleefully sleep in any chance I get. That being said, I did get up early this morning, the earliest I’ve gotten up since mid-August, to register for classes and went for a walk afterwards. That walk reminded me of my runs; I saw the same sights as back home and it really calmed me down. It’s exactly what I needed after a morning full of stress. I don’t know if the walk will be as calming everyday but it’s worth a shot.          — Rachel