Take the time to stop and say hi to nature
In the frenzy of papers and finals and exams and everything else that flies through the air during the last weeks of the semester, it can become easy to forget the outside world. Thankfully for me, the whirlwind of papers has dwindled, and my finals don't represent "too" much of a threat. Still, I've been stressed out more than is usual for me, and so I decided last evening it was time to get the hell out of my stale dorm.
Breathing recycled air cannot compare to getting outside and taking in a deep breath of fresh air, albeit cold air. My plan was to go to the reservation, but I realized that it was quickly becoming dark outside, it being around 4:30, and I didn't want to play out a bad rerun of the Blair Witch deep in the woods. Instead, I drove my bike down Halifax road, past the hilltop mansions, castles, and fortresses that jostle for space.
Before you come upon them, you cross a small bridge, which this time of year is adorned with a strange hybrid of christmas lights, pine wreaths, and a menorah. It looks very artistic actually, a brightly lit bridge in the middle of fields. You'd almost believe you could be in a rural area, if it weren't for the mansions up the road a few hundred feet.
The fields make me feel oddly at home, where I'm from being a rural country town in northwest NJ. Cool winter air, mixed with the natural smells of grass, weeds, trees, water; it fills my lungs and makes me very happy. I fight my way up the hills of the road, slowly pedaling past the expansive homes that flank me on both sides. I wonder what the elite would think, looking out their windows, to see a boy on a undersized bike, wearing camo gloves, olive green pants, and a fleece jacket, tissues stuffed in his ears to stop the cold air from whipping into his sensitive ears. I lost my only winter hat a few days ago, and so tissues become my only alternative.
Finally, I walk my bike the last few hundred feet up the hill, and chill out at the top. The "top" sounds like I can look out over the land from a high mountain perch. I cannot. But the view is still rewarding for me. There are no mansions at the top of the road, only woods to my right, and to my left is a small cascading stream and adjoining pond near the bottom. I begin to walk over to sit on the wood guardrail, when I notice a spent shotgun shell near by feet. This makes me just a little uneasy, but I came prepared, so I put on a bright red shirt, and hope I don't get shot by an overeager hunter, or one with very bad aim. Other than that potential danger, the scene is very relaxing.
For some reason, I am very connected to nature, and so I can just sit for long periods of time, just looking around and thinking about nothing in particular. There are few people that can relate to me in this way, most finding even walking to the res at all a boring prospect. It is a great experience though, as a change of scenery from school and civilization, just breathing in fresh air and relaxing. There is almost no sound, but not like the silence of an empty dorm room. Instead, it is the silence of nature, which is not entirely silent, dotted with the slight whisper of the wind through the trees, or the small rustle of a squirel through the leaves. I prefer this type of silence much more. Sometimes you just gotta say, fuck this recycled air and same four walls, and just get out. Get out and visit nature.
(Now you see why I'm an enviromentalist. :-D)
Breathing recycled air cannot compare to getting outside and taking in a deep breath of fresh air, albeit cold air. My plan was to go to the reservation, but I realized that it was quickly becoming dark outside, it being around 4:30, and I didn't want to play out a bad rerun of the Blair Witch deep in the woods. Instead, I drove my bike down Halifax road, past the hilltop mansions, castles, and fortresses that jostle for space.
Before you come upon them, you cross a small bridge, which this time of year is adorned with a strange hybrid of christmas lights, pine wreaths, and a menorah. It looks very artistic actually, a brightly lit bridge in the middle of fields. You'd almost believe you could be in a rural area, if it weren't for the mansions up the road a few hundred feet.
The fields make me feel oddly at home, where I'm from being a rural country town in northwest NJ. Cool winter air, mixed with the natural smells of grass, weeds, trees, water; it fills my lungs and makes me very happy. I fight my way up the hills of the road, slowly pedaling past the expansive homes that flank me on both sides. I wonder what the elite would think, looking out their windows, to see a boy on a undersized bike, wearing camo gloves, olive green pants, and a fleece jacket, tissues stuffed in his ears to stop the cold air from whipping into his sensitive ears. I lost my only winter hat a few days ago, and so tissues become my only alternative.
Finally, I walk my bike the last few hundred feet up the hill, and chill out at the top. The "top" sounds like I can look out over the land from a high mountain perch. I cannot. But the view is still rewarding for me. There are no mansions at the top of the road, only woods to my right, and to my left is a small cascading stream and adjoining pond near the bottom. I begin to walk over to sit on the wood guardrail, when I notice a spent shotgun shell near by feet. This makes me just a little uneasy, but I came prepared, so I put on a bright red shirt, and hope I don't get shot by an overeager hunter, or one with very bad aim. Other than that potential danger, the scene is very relaxing.
For some reason, I am very connected to nature, and so I can just sit for long periods of time, just looking around and thinking about nothing in particular. There are few people that can relate to me in this way, most finding even walking to the res at all a boring prospect. It is a great experience though, as a change of scenery from school and civilization, just breathing in fresh air and relaxing. There is almost no sound, but not like the silence of an empty dorm room. Instead, it is the silence of nature, which is not entirely silent, dotted with the slight whisper of the wind through the trees, or the small rustle of a squirel through the leaves. I prefer this type of silence much more. Sometimes you just gotta say, fuck this recycled air and same four walls, and just get out. Get out and visit nature.
(Now you see why I'm an enviromentalist. :-D)