Sharing the Wonder

I visited my newly-found phenology spot a week ago.  What I found there was amazing--first, I saw two Snowshoe Hares bound away from me.  I walked farther back and flushed three Ruffed Grouse, then a Short-tailed Weasel ran across the bog right in front of me.  Without a doubt, it was the highlight for me from the last two weeks I've spent at Conserve School.  I had my e-portfolio entry almost done.  Then, at the very last moment--Thursday afternoon--it changed.

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I and five other students were atop the sledding hill, admiring a sun positioned 20 degrees above the horizon and shining through wispy clouds, set in a deep blue sky that belonged somewhere farther west.  We admired it until someone decided to go down the hill on a tube.  We couldn't help ourselves--we all followed suit.  When I reached the bottom, the scene struck me--it was beautiful.  Bird and Antonia stood at the top of the hill preparing to sled down, two small figures outlined against the raw beauty of the winter sky.  It was a very powerful scene.

Too powerful to keep it to myself...

I took my camera out and started shooting away.  I took dozens of photos of Bird and Antonia on top of the hill.  I looked around for more subjects--grass outlined against the sun made a particularly good subject.  The top of a pine tree, the buds of a maple, the fence around the gardens, the top of the warming shack... they all made great subjects!  I came away with hundreds of photos.

I already "Appreciate . . . the wonder of nature" and "value fundamental, life-long connections with nature." What I did with this experience was to find a creative way to express my appreciation for nature.  I learned that through creative photography, I can convey my appreciation for nature to other people in a way that, except for being right there with them, I can't do otherwise.

Sunset on the Black Trail

I find myself with very little time to write new blog posts, so I'll be sharing more essays from my e-portfolio that I kept while at Conserve School.  I'll share them in chronological order.  There are some occasional issues with formatting since I'm transporting them from one site to another!


Sunset on the Black Trail

 It was a beautiful sunset. No, it was much more than that--it was just past five o' clock on a clear winter evening, standing on the Black Trail looking West across a vast, wild landscape. The sinking sun cast its brilliant orange-gold rays across the snow.  The bog's stunted trees threw their shadows far to the East. There was not a sound to be heard--nature stood in silent reverence towards a Western horizon beset by a magical display of exquisite, fiery beauty.  Where we stood, the sun shone low through the needles of two young White Pines. We were entranced by the light, its soft quality reflecting that of the trees' delicate yet perseverant needles.

This evening on the Black Trail represented one of the countless times I had ventured outside during my first three weeks at Lowenwood.  From skiing down the "hill of death" to snowshoeing the bog to birding Little Donahue Lake at six-thirty in the morning, I had been having an immensely fun time.

  

    I had experienced the deep snow and biting cold of a North Woods winter and the satisfaction of seeing much of Lowenwood's boreal wildlife.  But nothing could transcend this experience; not even watching the Northern Lights atop the sledding hill four nights before.  For the first time, I felt as deeply a part of the landscape as the bog's stunted spruce and the forest's towering White Pines. For the first time I felt a deep connection and appreciation for this place, "this gift from James R. Lowenstine."

    The shadows thrown across the snow, the sun blazing through the white pines and cedars on one side of the trail, casting a golden light on the spruces and birches on the other.  The utterly calm, windless expanse of snow, the stunted trees, the bog.  The hare and coyote tracks in the otherwise untouched snow. These all made this experience stand out for me.  Most memorable of all, though, was the connection I had gained to the landscape and the environment here at Lowenwood, and then realizing that it would be here, at this magnificent place, that I will be spending another thirteen weeks.

    Eventually, reluctantly, we had to tear ourselves away from the magical scene.  I knew I would be back the next night.