Annie It is pretty ironic that the location I am in to start my eco-lit journal, is inside. I have a method to my madness though. In the tree in my "front yard" an Anna's hummingbird has made a nest. I have named this little bird "Annie" (unique?). I am incredibly curious as to her daily comings and goings. I am worried that my enthusiasm may cause her to abandon the nest. Everytime I walk outside, she buzzes off the nest and with her electric hum, scolds me. So, instead, I sit inside, like any stalker, watching her through the peep hole in my door.
Vultures "I am not ashamed to have fallen in love with so gentle a ghoul..." William Leon Dawson I forever see vultures with their great wings outstreched, riding the sky. In all of my birdwatching I have never seen a vulture flap it's wings... until today. It seems so unvulture-like, to want to get anywhere in a hurry. The glory of being a vulture: -Spending your day memorizing the valleys and peaks -The ability to bo airborne, yet still connected to earth with a quiet gaze downward -Descending, ascending, turning to the left, to the right; produced by the elegantly simple movement of a primary feather - To read the sky with your feathers, in search of a new thermal--Sarah Brown
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I recall once, when we were on a trip with some friends of the family, and we were playing around on a hillside in an area filled with California grasslands. Probably up in the mountains off the highway that goes to Half Moon Bay, as I lived in the Bay Area at the time. The hills were covered in that peculiar crunchy golden grass that CA in the summer spawns in great quantity. Smaller, spiky shrubs dotted here and there, and while they looked greener than the rest, they were just as prickly and dry. But what I remember thinking really fascinating was an old car we found under a lone tree on the side of the hill. I don't know how, but it had managed to stay fairly full during the dry spell of summer (maybe it had deep roots, and had found some water), and so the car was in a deep shade. We speculated on where the vehicle had come from, as it was just unheard of (to us) for someone to just leave their car out on a hill, just a hundred yards or so from the highway. But it didn't seem to bother ol' Mother Nature none, and the car was completely filled with weeds and various grasses. Between the shade of the tree, and the further protection of the metal shell that had used to be a little compact car, probably foreign, the smaller undergrowth was deep green and flourishing. So while surrounded by harsh, dying, natural conditions, under the wholly unnatural condition of living in a decaying car structure, plants were doing just fine.-- Martin Woodard
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4/16/01 - 5pm What is it about the yellow daisies and orange butterflies that calms ones senses? It is starting to be spring now; at least the sun was out for a good portion of the day, though the breeze is still a little too cool for actual spring.... Licorice. I think of the fennel seeds we ate on the last hike through Poly Canyon. They were so sweet. A natural candy describes it best. I think I saved a bay leaf that I picked along the way. The one thing I appreciate about this class is that it makes me sit in the sun more and drink in the outdoors. Normally, I would consider that an all-too-special treat, and I would not allow myself to do that because I had not done my homework!--anonymous
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In, or just South of, Big Sur car camping at Plaskett Creek. I am here to enjoy the landscape and surf. There is a slight North-West swell, however right now the on-shore wind is reeking havoc on the waves. I am standing on top of a cliff overlooking Sand Dollar Cove. This cove epitomizes "rugged beauty." 100 ft. below me the beach is somewhat sandy, particularly at the South corner of the cove. The rest of the beach is covered with cobblestone rocks. At the North end there are two large volcanic-looking rocks -- they are large, perhaps the size of houses -- that are disconnected from land and extend out into the Pacific about 200 yards at their furthest point. At the South end there are several rocks that each stand separated from one another, tucked up tightly in the armpit of the cove. They range in size from that of a car, to that of a three story building. The largest rock has parts that will never be pummelled by the ocean no matter how intense the storm. Seagulls, keen to this, have made the rock their home. These rocks at the southern end perform an important function as far as the surfer is concerned, for they create a wall whereby the water entering the cove is deflected back out to sea. Essentially, they create an eddy in the cove in which the water moves from the North to the South end of the cove and then cycles back out into the ocean. Thus, all the surfer has to do in order to paddle out into the break-zone is hop in this outgoing current and swim with it until it puts you where you want to be. As I stand here now I can see the current within the cove running its North-South course.--Brad Parker
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4/16/01--Noon walk through Poly Canyon As I slowly walk along the path, I pass a flock of flies hovering in the air to my right. They fly away as I menacingly make my way along the trail. Gosh, I'm so glad I feel a light breeze instead of the rain and cold weather we have had here in the first week of the quarter. The breeze is intermittent, or maybe I am just passing through alternating windy spots and calm spots as I walk. I notice a black and white butterfly struggling to maintain itself in the air. In the distance, I notice two herds of black cattle, seemingly fixed in their enjoyment of grazing on the grass. Feeling the need to sit down, I pull out a rock that had been sitting on the side of the path. When I rolled it out of its original spot, I uncovered a centipede and two sow bugs, which were running away upon being shaken from their habitat and seeing what was, to them, the shadow of a giant. In front of me, an almost leafless tree stands, apparently not fully in bloom yet. I guess that the weather has not been warm enough yet for new leaves to grow off of the tree. I look again at one of the herds of cattle, which I now azing different tufts of grass now. Restlessness now overtakes me, so I decide to get up and make my way back to the campus. I enjoy this trail so much; it is definitely a place where I can spend my study breaks.--Kareem
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"Despite a week of warm weather it froze last night, and the air is still cold and crisp. I pump the gas and and turn the key, the engine comes to life and as it warms up I stare out the window. Across the road valley oaks interrupt the long rows of grapes while in the distance heavy clouds slip through low points in the Santa Lucia range. I ease out onto the highway, grinding the gears, after forcing my way into second the truck shifts easily to third. A moment later I roll down the window to escape the heavy gasoline fumes. With the wind gusting in the cab and my fingers numbed I settle into the drive.
The automobile, specifically the internal combustion engine that powers it, is one of the primary enemies of the natural world, but in a society built around the automobile, it often provides the only means of escape. When I visit home my buddy and I inevitably end up in the car, searching the mountains above Los Angeles for a new and exciting highway. He drives and I scan the roadside, identifying plants at 65 miles per hour. When we return home I have pinecones and he has bald tires and broken lugs." -- Chris Wassenberg
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"April, Friday 13, 2001 - 11:40pm After taking a short nap and a shower, I felt replenished from our intresting nature walk. The walk was led by profesor V.L. Holland. It was the first time I had ever walked through Poly Canyon with a careful observing eye. I must say it was beautiful. The sound of the birds chirping, the "moo" of the cows, the green of the trees, and the unforgettable fragrance coming uniquely from each one of the species of plants. I also found an eye-opening contrast of that of Mother Earth to that of the smog-congested cars that would drive through occasionaly; a symbol of two worlds clashing. I also enjoyed watching the river flow and hearing the sound that is part of the cycle of life. At one moment in the walk, I looked around at a 360 degree angle, and it just magnified how big Nature is, and how small I was. I felt my mind contemplating how little I knew about Nature itself, and how much more there was to learn. At that point, I can relate to what Wordsworth had wrote in his poems." --Johnny Chiem
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4-18-01 The nice days sure haven't lasted too long. It seemed so promising yesterday, but today was very overcast. The inside of my house was much more cheerful, though, as now there are three lilies in my birthday bouquet that have opened up. That bouquet has last pretty long so far. I usually don't have that good of luck. Today I kinda moved the flowers around so I could put more water in the vase, and I ended up sprinkling the table with little, white, round petals. They looked like confetti. I drove to Arroyo Grande for dinner after class today. As I was driving down there, all I could think was how I couldn't believe how green everything is! It's so beautiful, it almost seems like we've been transported to another land after being used to everything being shades of brown for so long. As I was driving, the sun wasn't quite to setting level yet, and I was really excited about getting past Avila and into Shell Beach, so I could see the ocean. It ended up disappointing me a little bit, though. It wasn't quite as spectacular as I'd hoped it was going to be. It was rather gray. Not that the ocean isn't ever spectacular. It's always beautiful. Even when there is a huge storm. Even when the waters are churning and the waves are crashing, it is still beautiful. Maybe I could even say that it is more beautiful then, when its magnificent strength and power is actually revealed. The ocean is so intimidating to me, but also just so awesome.--Katharine Worsham
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April 8, 2001 Sunday 7:30 p.m. Once we reached our desired destination that familiar feeling of oneness with nature once again griped my soul. The sights of rushing, free flowing dynamic movement of water made me think that I was witnessing a unique system that should never be lost and should always be preserved for the enjoyment of future generations to come. The consistent rumbling sounds which evolved from the creek brought me a sense of tranquility that I can only achieve if I am in the presence of running water. Before I took some pictures, my wife and I's attention was drawn to some local inhabitants of the creek. We saw mallard ducks doing some odd looking actions. These two ducks were dunking their heads beneath the water with their webbed feet and tails wading in the mid-air. They both would stop for a second to catch some air then continue this process. We both came to the assumption that the mallards were feeding off some algae from the rocks which lay at the bottom of the creek bed. The sights and sounds of the running water led us to travel further up the creek and explore new avenues. We saw children skipping rocks across the creek. This reminds me of times my brother and I played gallantly in puddles and pools of water. I remember how adventurous we were at exploring what we too could do with the surrounding nature. We use nature as our own playground with our imagination. From natures experience to a religious experience, we also found nature in our religion. This day was Palm Sunday and we received Palms in church. This connected my feelings once again with nature and the outer environment. -- Joey Mattos
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4/19/2001
At first, I was confused, for I had entered the pasture thinking I was going to have to punch the son-of-a-bitch in order to protect myself from a potentially dangerous situation. I stood there and so did he, both of us waiting for the other to make the first move. I took a step forward, and he took a painfully arthritic step backwards. His back leg felt out the earthen terrain behind him so he would not fall. I couldn't tell if he dropped his head down in an act of submission or if he was going to charge me into the ground in a flash of anger and rage, but I still approached.... cautiously at first. I dropped my shoulders, and didn't look him in the eye so I wouldn't liken to a man getting ready to beat his son. Any sign of aggression on my behalf could cause me to loose control of this situation and the beast would win. At 5 times my weight and 100 times more muscle than I, I knew full well who would win the fight.
But I still approached, determined to show him that man and beast could live harmoniously. I finally got to his shoulder, and I noticed that his ears were cocked in my direction and his head lowered closer to the ground. His nature was amiable and my nerves calmed. I reached around his neck, and adjusted the halter to his face. For the first time, we walked to his stall as a team, master and horse, and not as enemies.
This was not at all his fault, for he had been most neglected by his previous two owners. I don't recall ever meeting the first owner during the initial 12 months of my caring for him. The second, and current, is a vet- O'Conner I think. I met her once when my cat was sick. After her services, I could scarcely imagine how she could stay in business. She was so skilled at her trade, that I figured I could do better on my own.
I suppose the story of his life was much the same before I met him- go to pasture in the morning, go to stall at night. Eat. Watch Willy and Daisy practice their jumps with their riders. Years of that will destroy a once good animal, and allow his mind to slowly creep back to the wild days, before alfalfa cubes and bits and halters and all that other nonsense. Back to the days when he could roam as he wished. And when his mind was roaming wild, so did his nature.
We stopped halfway up to his stall. And I pet his neck. I gave his withers a good massage, 'cuz I figured any of the other horses would be too scared to do it for him. He let me pet him, but I could tell that food was on his mind. Typical male- I was hungry too. I put him in his stall, and pet his face once more.
Fred is not a horse to be trifled with. The last lady- a friend of the vet- was not keen to his temperament, and probably was too generous in her opinion of her own riding skills. The outcome was "fat lady pancake". She learned quick- it only cost her a hip bone, 3 ribs, and a bad day. I doubt she'll return for change.
I figure if Fred and I keep doing well together, and he doesn't try to knock my block off (again), I'll give him a bath, and comb out his matted tail. I'll fawn over his mane, and let him off his halter to eat the untouched oats. I fancy it'll be like having a beer with an old friend. I'm sure he could use one by now.--Jonathan Bluff
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> Friday, April 6th, 2001 Š 4:30p.m. > Entrance to Poly Canyon, San Luis Obispo, CA. > > Spring has turned the golden hue of the hills into a sea of green wealth. > The slender stocks of grass dance in the cool breeze of this afternoon. > The leaves tremble with the anticipation of a spring storm, while their > roots await the nourishments of the quenching rain. The sweet aroma of > the alien grasses drifts in the currents of the northerly winds. As the grass > blades sway in the increasing winds, they orchestrate an eerie hollow > throughout the landscape. My hands filter through the soft foliage being > careful of the razor shape edges. Its sweet smell is equaled only by its > savoir flavor. The juxtiposition of the rich green grass and the eerily gray > skies pays tribute to the early changes of the seasons. > > Ric Hendricks
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> FUN ACTIVITIES TO DO OUTSIDE > > 1. Ride your bike really fast down a hill so that you gain enough speed to > make it half way up the next hill...before you gotta jumb off and walk. > > 2. Hold your mother's hand while taking a walk around the neighborhood. > > 3. Try a one-handed cartwheel (level surface preferred) > > 4. Wear an old pair of sneakers while "creek walking" in the spring time. > > 5. Picnics are always a hit on a warm day. > > 6. Save bread crumbs to feed the ducks at the park. > > 7. Watercolor an object of creation. > > 8. Take a trip to the beach and read a book with the sound of the ocean in > the background fo your senses and imagination. > > 9. Look for a four-leaf clover. > > 10. Explore the woods on horseback. > > Elizabeth Simmons 4/10/01
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4/7/01ŃJournal Entry
The beginning of something new. Very rarely have I opened up this part of my mind. An engineer, an athlete, tough, kind, sincere, honest, lover of God, but one who records his thoughts of nature who would ever guess. As the clouded sky is illuminated by the ever so powerful sun, I see a breakthrough, a rejuvenation of the sky that is so desired by the quenched trees and grass ready for their growth and beauty to appear through the process of photosynthesis. The crisp breeze blows away the dark clouds, causing the trees to whisper, and sends leaves on the ride of their lives. Here as I sit underneath the red leafed tree that so beautifully contrasts the green grass, the blue sky, the faint green trees, the white buildings, the yellow sun I am reminded of My Saviors glorious creation. The rare patch of red trees boldly standing in the midst of green reminds me of the call not to be ashamed, to be strong and courageous. These trees stand out they make a statement of individuality yet cooperation. Each one of us unique yet equally important. We all have a calling. These red trees provide a unique beauty. The leaves grow, offer life for itÕs tree, then blow away echoing life. Life is a beautiful process it is a true joy but it must end we must blow away. But it doesnÕt end we are allowed the opportunity to go on the greatest ride ever, our creator offers us salvation, eternity with Him in perfection, holiness. If we are firmly rooted in Jesus like a tree planted by a flowing river. DonÕt be confused by the beauty of this tree whether it is firmly planted I do not know but I know that itÕs beauty can be deceiving just like the world seemingly offering so much but in the end those temporal things will pass. Be wise seek Him first then all will be given and true joy experienced.
Lord, I thank you for this tree the way it just sits so calmly swaying back and forth to the rhythms of the wind. Offering a resting dock fort the birds to chirp. Red tree make a bold stand, do not be deceived, plant yourself firmly, continue to grow, continue to dance, continue to shine, continue to whisper. Continue to glow for your creator. --Ryan McCarty
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Selected Journal Entries from Matthew Holm
I sit alone in the middle of a wealth of companions. Alas, they do not speak my language, these trees. And yet they convey more in simple movements than I absorb in hours of lectures. The most obvious: a physical demonstration of what it means to be resilient. Under constant bombardment of the wind they simply yield until the torrent passes, showing minimal effects from something so powerful just moments gone. I would likely have broken and failed long ago had I no respite from the forces threatening me each day.
"Pocket of Paradise"
A Pocket of Paradise,
No more, no less,
Bursting with nature
And
happiness.
But like other pockets
With foreign objects some,
This
one is tainted
With cigarettes and gum.
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Saturday April 10, 2001 Jason Tyner
When I awoke this morning the sunshine through my window was inviting, as if it were reaching out to me. The prospect of gorgeous weather caused me to abandon my previous plans of studying indoors. How could I possibly stay indoors on a day like this? So I decided to venture out and see what Poly Canyon had to offer. After Fridays cold hail and rain episodes, Saturday was a warm welcome and promising to be a beautiful San Luis Obispo spring day. I arrived at the base of the canyon with my backpack filled with a notebook, camera and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, in case I became hungry. In William Wordsworth's Poem, 'The Tables Turned', I would agree with him as he states 'Let nature be your teacher'. It's true, books can only teach you so much, real lessons are learned by experiencing nature.
As I started my hike into the mixed riparian forest of Poly Canyon, I noticed many California Bay Laurels present. The Bay Laurels are indeed plentiful here and seem to the line the sides of the creek; they must undoubtedly love soil that is high in moisture. The dark green leaves seem to vary between two to five inches in length and have a dusty-wax coating. The leaves are very especially aromatic when crushed, however I don't believe this is the correct species used for cooking purposes. At the time being I do not notice any flowering, but they do contain fruit, which is greenish in color. The bark of the Bay Laurel is greenish gray and is smooth to scaly in texture. The Laurels overall appearance tends to look very dense and shrub like. I do not see any signs of vectors.
As I continue my hike I try to imagine what is was like when California once belonged to Spain. I can picture the Spanish Conquistadors riding the finest horses of Europe, traveling the vast countryside searching for gold. Then I see Padres who came to establish missions in their quest to convert the aboriginal neophytes to Christianity. Now here come the Hacendados and Early Alta Rancheros riding their lands given to them for service in the military by the King and Queen of Spain. I see Vaqueros swinging their Lariats and herding Coriente cattle which are full of Mediterranean and Old World grass seeds in their bellies; ultimately changing the land forever.
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On my way home from RudolfÕs Coffee and Tea I met a duck. We were waddling parallel to one another along two walkways, just before they merge to become one. I stared unashamedly at him wondering how long he would be willing to walk with me. To my dismay, but not surprise, he turned around just before our paths were to meet. He skipped quickly on his two webbed feet until he found the opening in the fence from where I assume he had emerged before. The mallard ducked under the iron-railed fence, managing to make his feathered body half its original size, to slide effortlessly under the opening. He made his way down the orange-poppied slope, glancing back frequently, perhaps in hope that I was not following. His skilled webbed feet conformed to the shape of the rocks; he embraced them with his toes. I shivered as he neared the creek, wondering if he found it as cold this evening as I do. Probably not. Without hesitation, his webbed feet took him into the clear water, and he set his buoyant body afloat to drift with the water flow. Two other mallards, who had been planted to the rocks at the creekÕs bottom, simultaneously lifted their feet, releasing themselves to the same flow. It was as if they had signaled to each other, as children do before jumping into a pool in summertime: one, two, threeÉgo! I must have missed the signal because it came as a surprise to me. They have now swam back upstream, landing in their original places. Perhaps the float was just a game. I watched the three male mallards play this game, stopping occasionally to ruffle their feathers and shake their hindquarters. Frequently, one mallard would plunge his beak deep into his feathers, nibbling at an itch or an unwanted minute visitor.--Alison Halla
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Monday April 23, 2001 3:30 pm
True spring day. The winds blowing from the northwest. The sun shining brightly on the green vegetation. The rain a few days prior cleansed the landscape and fed the flower blooms. The green lawned quad on campus I lay on is full of bare feet and sunglasses. The talk is cheerful and the smiles as bright as the sun. Green trees and lucious bushes enclose the quad and seperate it from the undesired buildings. The birds chirp and sing, lifting me away from the day. All academic productivity suppressed. I want to be free. I want to dance to spring, as I think about trails I have traveled and the peaks I have climbed. I want to produce more memories. Ones that will make me dance when spring is gone. That cool ocean wind. I want to travel as it does. Through trees, touching each of its leaves. Across the waters, through the valleys, over the land. I too want experience. Not knowing where I will end or where I began. Me too, submerged by nature. Nature away from man and its traces. Spring beauty. -
--Brandon Souza