Wisconsin
For today's wfmad post, Laurie included a Summer Moment of Zen video: six and a half minutes of nature in the forest where she lives. It's lovely. Most of it is a stream, water bubbling over the edges of rock and under a fallen tree. I want to go exploring there now. I want to walk into the water, barefoot, and splash water on my arms, feel the smoothness of the rock under my feet.
It's not so different from the Northwoods of Wisconsin.
I remember once my LiveJournal friend polvodestrella, Laura, posted pictures (as she often does) of places she has visited in Spain. This was maybe two years ago. Anyway, I commented something about wishing I could live someplace that had such beautiful scenery, and how boring things are here in the Midwest. She responded that she would love to come explore here. It got me thinking...
I take for granted this place where I live. I don't think so much about the beautiful things I've seen here in my own state. It made me start appreciating what's here more. I mean, I would still love to go exploring in Spain, or anywhere else in the world, really, but I love Wisconsin, too. There's plenty of beauty here.
I've seen the sunset over Lake Mendota. I've walked through nearly pitch black woods on the way to picnic point and laughed with friends around a totally illegal fire built on the edge of the lake. I've stood in areas of forest, huge tracts of land, with no other humans around than my family or friends. I've watched a storm over a lake up North, seeing the grays and blues of the sky, suddenly whitening with a slash of lightning, watching the clouds moving so fast over the choppy water.
I've waded into Lake Michigan and practically lost feeling in my feet standing there looking out across the water, the other shore so distant, I understand why some early explorers thought they had found the Pacific Ocean in the Great Lakes. I've scrambled up hills of red dust, staining my whole body and marveling at the softness. I have walked the Ice Age Trail, finding old remnants of railroads, stumbling into marshes and sudden water that I definitely didn't see coming.
I've canoed down the Fox River with my parents, the water so clear and low you can see every little stone and fish below. We've found secret little fields and literally cooled our heels in the river, while the hot summer sun beat down us, with no breeze to break the heat. I've watched the snow falling down, changing every little bit of scenery around me, making mountains (to my five-year-old eyes) where there were never any before. I've watched heavy storms turn half the sky black and bend trees practically to the ground.
I have kayaked around a forty-foot-deep lake, the water looking almost blacker than oil (which makes sense, really, since oil has a rainbow sheen). I've explored a little island with my friend, seeing the marks where floods have been before. I've walked on sandbars in the Wisconsin River, when the water is so low during a dry spell, seeing plants and rocks that are usually under ten feet of water.
One night when it was storming, the power went out on my side of town, and I watched out my bedroom window, while I was supposed to be sleeping, as lightning backlit, for just a moment, the steeple of my church. It was awesome.
What else? I've watched the rain pouring down and bouncing off the cars parked along the road. I've ridden a slow, old horse through the woods. I've seen the beginnings of mass flooding in south central Wisconsin as I drove home along an interstate that would soon by covered under feet of water for weeks.
I remember riding the Ducks through the woods and lakes and rivers around Lake Delton, and while the tour guides blathered on about whatever for the tourists, my dad tells me about sneaking down to that bridge, there, to go fishing with his brother. I've walked to the other side of Lake Monona, literally getting a new perspective on my new city, and feeling proud of how far I've walked without getting tired.
And I haven't even mentioned the Baraboo Bluffs, or Durwards Glen, or Devil's Lake, or Upham Woods. And all of this is so near to my hometown!
So, yes. I live in a beautiful state. It's not any better or worse than Spain, just very different. I'll sign off for now, before I get too wanderlusty.
Peace and love,
~~RaggedyAnndy~~
It's not so different from the Northwoods of Wisconsin.
I remember once my LiveJournal friend polvodestrella, Laura, posted pictures (as she often does) of places she has visited in Spain. This was maybe two years ago. Anyway, I commented something about wishing I could live someplace that had such beautiful scenery, and how boring things are here in the Midwest. She responded that she would love to come explore here. It got me thinking...
I take for granted this place where I live. I don't think so much about the beautiful things I've seen here in my own state. It made me start appreciating what's here more. I mean, I would still love to go exploring in Spain, or anywhere else in the world, really, but I love Wisconsin, too. There's plenty of beauty here.
I've seen the sunset over Lake Mendota. I've walked through nearly pitch black woods on the way to picnic point and laughed with friends around a totally illegal fire built on the edge of the lake. I've stood in areas of forest, huge tracts of land, with no other humans around than my family or friends. I've watched a storm over a lake up North, seeing the grays and blues of the sky, suddenly whitening with a slash of lightning, watching the clouds moving so fast over the choppy water.
I've waded into Lake Michigan and practically lost feeling in my feet standing there looking out across the water, the other shore so distant, I understand why some early explorers thought they had found the Pacific Ocean in the Great Lakes. I've scrambled up hills of red dust, staining my whole body and marveling at the softness. I have walked the Ice Age Trail, finding old remnants of railroads, stumbling into marshes and sudden water that I definitely didn't see coming.
I've canoed down the Fox River with my parents, the water so clear and low you can see every little stone and fish below. We've found secret little fields and literally cooled our heels in the river, while the hot summer sun beat down us, with no breeze to break the heat. I've watched the snow falling down, changing every little bit of scenery around me, making mountains (to my five-year-old eyes) where there were never any before. I've watched heavy storms turn half the sky black and bend trees practically to the ground.
I have kayaked around a forty-foot-deep lake, the water looking almost blacker than oil (which makes sense, really, since oil has a rainbow sheen). I've explored a little island with my friend, seeing the marks where floods have been before. I've walked on sandbars in the Wisconsin River, when the water is so low during a dry spell, seeing plants and rocks that are usually under ten feet of water.
One night when it was storming, the power went out on my side of town, and I watched out my bedroom window, while I was supposed to be sleeping, as lightning backlit, for just a moment, the steeple of my church. It was awesome.
What else? I've watched the rain pouring down and bouncing off the cars parked along the road. I've ridden a slow, old horse through the woods. I've seen the beginnings of mass flooding in south central Wisconsin as I drove home along an interstate that would soon by covered under feet of water for weeks.
I remember riding the Ducks through the woods and lakes and rivers around Lake Delton, and while the tour guides blathered on about whatever for the tourists, my dad tells me about sneaking down to that bridge, there, to go fishing with his brother. I've walked to the other side of Lake Monona, literally getting a new perspective on my new city, and feeling proud of how far I've walked without getting tired.
And I haven't even mentioned the Baraboo Bluffs, or Durwards Glen, or Devil's Lake, or Upham Woods. And all of this is so near to my hometown!
So, yes. I live in a beautiful state. It's not any better or worse than Spain, just very different. I'll sign off for now, before I get too wanderlusty.
Peace and love,
~~RaggedyAnndy~~