As I sit and soak in every last bit of the sun today, all I can think is how annoying those around me are being. Other people are constantly crowding my serene time of being in tune with nature. But as Haskell said, to love nature and hate humanity is illogical. This is a quote that stuck out with me from the reading, and I am understanding it to the fullest now. All around me babies cry, a couple fights and a runner sings. I can barely hear the trees swaying in the wind or the squirrel’s chattering amongst themselves. I am finding myself to lack compassion for those around me, making them objects instead of people. That’s why Haksell tells us that we shouldn’t have to cleanse humanity from nature to make it beautiful, but to feel compassion for humans as well.
The ground is very wet. Mud seems to be consuming everyone person’s shoes, including my own. The longer I sit here the more I can’t wait for spring. To be over this mundane weather and see beautiful flowers and more animals roaming the woods. The birds start to sing beautiful songs, and I listen with eager ears.
There is a beautiful tree right next to my spot that I plant myself within the weeds. This tree is very thick, probably hundreds of years old and has a beautiful coating of moss that engulfs the lower half of the tree. The moss looks and feels slimy at the touch of the hand. The moss is a beautiful green that is missing from the trees leaves in late winter. It consumes the tree in a way that makes it look like it’s supposed to be there.
On the other side of me there is a skinnier tree, one that looks like It is grasping to stay alive. No moss lives on this tree, but tons of plants at the bottom, swaying in the same way the tree does when the strong gusts of wind will come. The plant and tree combo are pirouetting with each other, moving smoothly in each direction like they’re dancing the tango.
When the runners pass they disturb the mud and throw it in all different directions, sometimes it lands on themselves, the trees next to them, and even me. The poor mud is constantly beaten up and thrown all over the place.
I don’t know how to word this lightly, but I am bored. I remember Haskell saying in “The Forest Unknown,” that after too much time in one ambiance for a while people grow bored and want change. Therefore, I change my scenery, closer to the water.
As the stream trickles down, I close my eyes. Listening for a fish taking a big gulp of air, or a splash of sticks falling into the stream. Mostly all I can hear is the bird’s songs with a background beat of the streaming water. It’s calming, something I could be put right to sleep by.
Like I ended my time last week I open my eyes and scan the stream. Looking for any foreign objects holding up my water. Yes, my water. I am taking ownership of this stream every time I come. Not surprisingly found a peanut bag laying on a rock that punctures the water. I pick it up and take it with me, until next week.