Some Ramblings Prompted by Apples

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Extreme Apple Picking

This past weekend, I went up to Ridgefield, CT, the hometown of my boyfriend, Jesse. I’ve always loved his town, house, and the property on which his house sits. As I said in class, his house is a barn built sometime in the late 1700’s in upstate NY which was picked up piece by piece and moved to Ridgefield, CT by some guy who eventually sold it to Jesse’s parents in the early ’90’s. Although his house includes all modern conveniences, it reminds me a bit of Thoreau’s house. Jesse’s house is also made entirely from wood, near a pond, a few miles from the nearest town (there aren’t really even any neighborhoods in this area, just a house every few acres), and is surrounded a thriving ecosystem which can truly breathe life into whomever lets it.

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Less Extreme Apple Picking

I had the unique and wonderful opportunity this past weekend to take part in the most bountiful harvest of the two massive apple trees that sit behind Jesse’s house yet. According to Jesse’s parents, this fall has yielded the most amount of apples with the highest quality (large, round, without wormholes). We climbed up on ladders to pick the apples, but then Jesse’s dad brought his backhoe around to the tree, put Jesse up in the bucket, thus increasing the range of apple picking. Throughout the rest of the day, we grinned apples into pulp and pressed them to make cider, we cut them into slivers to bake into apple crisp, and we cooked them down and used a device to create apple sauce. It’s a truly amazing experience when you can follow a food from harvest to processing to consumption all in one day.

There was something truly special and refreshing about yesterday. I don’t think it was solely from the apples. It was because I got to roll around in the grass unbothered by a bustling campus around me. It was because I was energized by the change of the seasons which was far more present there than here in Easton. Thoreau may have been whispering in my ear while I was imbibing the crisp air, apple smells, and gnats around me: “There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of Nature and has his senses still” (141). It’s true. A lot of things could have bothered me yesterday. I could have easily felt an urgency to get back on campus to get ahead on homework. I could have mourned the end of summer and all of my summer goals left unaccomplished. Although sometimes Thoreau is contradictory or purposefully abrasive, a lot of the times, he’s simply and honestly correct. Many of my friends have pointed down at “Walden” while I have it out in the library or elsewhere and said something along the lines of “Ah, Walden. Great isn’t it?” Not as many people would say that if the key thing they took from it was his prickles and irony. People say that because this work of art has spoken serious truth to them that they cannot dispute and, hopefully, try to fold into their everyday lives. I know that’s how I feel about “Walden” thus far and I cannot wait to get to the point where a piece of “Walden” is relevant to every day of my life. Guess I have to read the rest of it!

 

Outlawing Citizen Science

http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/science/2015/05/wyoming_law_against_data_collection_protecting_ranchers_by_ignoring_the.html

My google search was “critique’s of citizen science.” I hypothesized that some professional scientists may have issues with the trustworthiness of numbers gathered by people who have nothing to lose, no tenure to gain, or no reputation to build. However, I discovered something much more frustrating and disappointing: Wyoming has made it illegal for anyone to “collect resource data” from any federal, state, or privately owned land with the intention of sharing it with the state or federal government.

The article further explains the implications of this law. It makes photography of natural spaces illegal, it makes pointing out an environmental disaster illegal, and it makes citizen science illegal. The article also quickly points to the E. coli outbreak in the water in many places in Wyoming as the reason for this law. It mentions that the abundance of E. coli is from ranching, a politically powerful industry in the state.

I routinely point to money in politics as the number one thing that needs to change to allow environmentally minded legislation take place. Big-ag lobbying within states has enacted laws such as this one in Wyoming, Ag-gag laws which make it a crime to video or photograph the inside of a factory farming operation, and has prevented California from enforcing water restrictions on Agriculture, the biggest water consumer in the state. Many people don’t realize how much of a chokehold industrial farming has on this country due to the fact that they can get these seemingly small laws passed within states without many people noticing.

If we don’t allow citizens to have a voice when it comes to the cleanliness of their own land, we’ve surely eliminated democracy. Furthermore, if a citizen cannot ask their government for help when their land has been ruined, or their water polluted, we’ve now allowed the interests of a few to jeopardize the health and happiness of the majority over generations. We cannot allow states to enact laws which only shove problems under the rug rather than addressing them.

 

Progress Report #1: Site 3 Butz Mill; Ginny, Maggie, & Shawn

DSC_0896DSC_0898DSC_0899This piece of the Bushkill creek has changed immensely from the pictures of yesteryear. The intense and jarring juxtaposition of natural beauty with disrespectful littering is the most noticeable part of this space. The three of us first walked down to the creek from the arts trail parking lot, right to the left of the public works building. A few workers in the building chatted in the distance as we climbed down towards the water’s edge. We immediately noticed the huge blocks of concrete, broken in places, that were in and around the edge of the creek. They’re certainly leftovers from a building or man-made structure that has been since forgotten. This particular part of our site was not as littered as what we discovered further north. As we were crossing the bridge to begin to walk towards the dam, Ginny pointed out a heron. We deduced that its presence could indicate cleaner water than we may have guessed. As we walked along the sidewalk, with fence on one side and Pearl street on the other, Shawn turned around and held up the picture of a postcard of the site with the brewery on the left and Jefferson mountain on the right. Jefferson mountain now is home to a billboard and scraps which were surely thrown out of car windows. It’s also impossible to see the same scene that the postcard shows since a fence and overgrown trees/shrubs cut the scene directly in half. Once we came close to Safe Harbor, Ginny had to leave for class, so Maggie and Shawn continued around the bend and the building with the address 661 Pearl Street. We followed the edge of the road closely, looking down past the shrubs and trees to try to keep the creek in sight. Directly across from an apartment building called the Bushkill House, we found a small opening in the brush. We started to see litter trailing down a steep, yet still navigable path down to the creek. We climbed/slid down the path, holding on to tree roots on the way down where we found the real meat of this site. Littered with aerosol cans, beer bottles, chip wrappers, gatorade bottles, and all other evidence of human occupation was this fairly large stretch of rocky shore on the west side of the creek. We walked on the rocks up to the dam and back noticing pieces of broken, old-seeming pottery, shells, even more refuse, and yet, a ton of potential. This area is surely a hidden treasure. It wasn’t nearly that difficult to mentally strip the plastic and paper from the scene and picture a clean, natural, beautiful space emerging from under the garbage. We even noticed that above the dam ducks swam, the sun hit the water in a glistening fashion, and not a piece of trash was evident.

Another observation noted by our group while exploring the area was the state and modification of one of the buildings represented in old photos still present in the area. We believe this building to be the mill. The building appears to be in fairly good shape as it is still used for the public service workers facility, but while scanning the building we took note of how this structure that once utilized the Bushkill system no longer did and imagined how it might have functioned. There was a strange arch carved into the foundation of this building along the Bushkill and we began to imagine the mill’s water wheel in this abandoned nook. We took note of a pulley at the apex of the roof that must have been used to drag things up to higher floors. We considered the mill pond present in photos, and its absence in this place today. This place provoked our curiosity as we wondered how its interaction with the Bushkill has changed with time.

For further investigation, we would definitely like to get a kayak or if wadeable some waders on this part of the creek to be able to get closer to some of the less accessible parts. We figure that since the shore is right behind Safe Harbor, there’s a good chance this space is used as a hangout for homeless people so we would also like to look into that further and potentially include that in this story. Additionally, we would like to take part in shaping the future of this place by cleaning it up. It is an absolutely beautiful space which would thrive even more if it weren’t covered in garbage.

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River Twins

I first heard this song at a music festival in Prague where Ibeyi (“twins” in the West African language, Yoruba) performed. I was immediately enchanted by the simple beauty of this song and the warmth of the flowing harmonies. Upon more listenings of this song, I began to induce meaning from the lyrics and instrumentals, alike. After our kayaking trip and river readings, I began to find even more meaning in these lyrics. For reference, here are the lyrics:

Come to you river
I will come to your river
I will come to you river
Come to you river
(Wash my soul)
I will come to your river
(Wash my soul)
I will come to your river
(Wash my soul again)
Carry away my dead leaves
Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters
Sink my pains and complains
Let the river take them, river drown them
My ego and my blame
Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters
Those old means, so ashamed
Let the river take them, river drown them
[Yoruban Outro]:
Wemile Oshun
Oshun dede
Alawede Wemile Oshun
Moolowo beleru yalode moyewede

Unfortunately, I cannot find the Yoruba translation for the last verse, so I’ll just focus on the english parts. The song talks about cleansing, “baptizing,” and asking the river to wash away negativity such as “pains and complains.” There is definitely something pure about rivers, regardless of their actual chemical purity. The phrase “baptize my soul” makes me think about Abbey’s “Down the River” because he seems to experience a sort of spiritual awakening and soul cleansing during his journey down the Colorado River where time becomes irrelevant, and civilization just a dream. Both the song and “Down the River” invoke the feeling that experiencing rivers is necessary for human cleansing and peace. The river can “carry away my dead leaves” in a literal sense if leaves are falling from trees and in a metaphorical sense if the leaves are the stagnant remnants of society hanging from the limbs of one’s soul.

The music itself, without the words, also describes the personality of rivers. The pounding drum beats are the rocks which shape the river flow of the river as the drum beats shape the song. The consistent harmonies in the background are the constant flow and dynamism of the river. The vocals on top of the simple backbeat is the variation in bird sounds, insect sounds, waterfalls, etc. which one also encounters while on the river. Notice the vocal melody is dynamic, but does repeat throughout the song. Each bird voice is unique, yet aligns with the other bird voices around it, creating a repetitive tune. The outro is completely different than the song before it, symbolizing that a river can change pace and personality changing from completely calm to rocky rapids.

 

Infinite River

Driving back up to school this morning after a night at home, I turned to my right and looked at the Delaware River. I really looked at it. I never before realized this, but I had only been seeing it up until yesterday. I considered my drive up to school to be a beautiful scene, but hadn’t necessarily honed in on the incredible, awe-striking, significance of the river itself.

Kayaking down it yesterday definitely opened my eyes to a few aspects of the river that I had not previously considered. For one, it is vast. Noticing the river in my peripheral vision never quite allowed me to understand how wide it is. Although I knew that the Delaware River stretched as long as it does, actually powering myself to traverse only a fraction of it solidified the awesomeness of its size in my mind. Secondly, the river is living, thriving history which still influences human and natural civilization today. As was said yesterday, the water in the river has been around for all of earth’s history. Those molecules have touched the underside of George Washington’s boats, entered the pores of logs that were being shipped down the river to build homes in Philadelphia, and have incurred drops of beer spilled from groups of tubing partiers (not that we’ve seen any of that….).

The natural world, bodies of water in particular, have experienced all of human and natural history with a front row seat. And they are not in museums tucked behind a glass case and shielded from any more human experience. They are there to see, touch, immerse yourself in, kayak on, fish in, and become part of. For a second, think about how tightly we protect historical artifacts from other humans. Now add up all of the history that the Delaware River has seen and compare that to the painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware that is currently in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. If anyone tried to touch that painting, security guards would tackle him/her. However, all that painting saw was the original painter, the oil paints on its surface, and the inside of museums. It’s truly a privilege that we get to interact with the same substance with which all of history interacted.

I also want to express my agreement with Eiseley concerning the timeless nature of rivers. Before the kayak trip, I was entranced by his description of feeling evolution and dynamism in the river. During the trip, this line rang through my head: “Its (water) substance reaches everywhere; it touches the past and prepares the future; it moves under the poles and wanders thinly in the heights of air” (16). I, too, felt connected to history as well as the future. I was thinking a lot about the potential pipeline that would cut right through it. Would it intrude upon the river in a visually obvious way, or be more underground? Would the engineers use the utmost care in sealing it tightly, or could one mistake damage the river permanently? Humans have used this river for mighty purposes and have managed not to ruin it too badly. Could one false move change that forever?

 

Approved Circumstances

“Seeing the canyon under approved circumstances is seeing the symbolic complex head on.”

Upon reading this sentence in “The Loss of the Creature”, I felt overwhelmingly compelled to exclaim “THIS IS THE MOST FRUSTRATING THING ABOUT TRAVELING!” Of course everyone gets annoyed by tourists who are so clearly touring for superficial reasons, but some attractions, which may have incredible value to visit, are only available if you abide by “approved circumstances.” Additionally, many travelers may not know enough or feel comfortable enough to bypass said approved circumstances. While in Prague, I became frustrated by visitors who essentially thought Prague was a quarter of the size it really is because that quarter is the most photographed, historical, and symbolic place that people think of when someone says “Prague.” I would try to coax visiting friends out of this bubble, but the first question they always had was “is it safe that far away from the city center?” I found this misconception that the place less photographed and less present in the collective world mind is somehow unsafe and unfit for visitors. I feel that Percy would agree in that assertion since he discusses that learning the theory of or how an individual or thing should be can so significantly detract from ones experience of said thing.

Although this phenomenon rings true with visitors to Prague, I found that the most painful to watch obliviousness to true experience happens in Amsterdam. The common tourist thinks of two things when they hear the name “Amsterdam”: prostitutes and marijuana. For that reason, the red light district of Amsterdam has become a vile cesspool for shallow tourists who spend a ton of time and money without experiencing one bit of the true meaning of Amsterdam. On my one walk through the red light district, I kept hearing people saying they were going to have the time of their life because they were going to experience the only two things that could possibly be valuable to do in Amsterdam: seeing naked women through windows and legally (kinda) getting stoned.

I agree wholeheartedly with Percy’s critique of tourists, but in a way, I’m glad this is the case. If every tourist was trying to experience the true essence of a place by spontaneously exploring and leaving expectations behind, they wouldn’t be so conveniently quarantined to the most recognizable places and I wouldn’t be able to avoid them so successfully.

 

Birke Baehr and the Inspiration of Roadschooling

http://https://www.ted.com/talks/birke_baehr_what_s_wrong_with_our_food_system?language=en

Birke Baehr was 11 years old when he delivered this TED talk. Notice how fantastic of a speaker he is. Notice how inspired he is and how much he inspires the audience. Notice his youthful humor alongside his mature wisdom. Is he a prodigy? Was he born with an uncanny ability to understand the world around him and concern himself with its massive problems? Perhaps. I would like to point out, however, that he is road schooled (in the video he says home-schooled, but his TED biography uses the more accurate term).

Birke has been traveling the country for the past 5 years visiting organic farms. He’s broadened his classroom to an entire nation and has become incredibly successful in his activism because of it. I also get the sense that he feels fulfilled by what he does. I thought of him and his unschooling/roadschooling a lot while reading “The Wilderness of Childhood”, “Outside Lies Magic”, and “There Was A Child Went Forth.” In the video, Birke immediately points out that he feels children in his generation are easily manipulated by cooperations via TV ads and public school. Maybe if we raised children with the principles highlighted in the two essays such as enhancing ones awareness of the world around them and abandoning structure and supervision, they would be less susceptible to the influences of advertisement. If society was more in tune with children’s impressionability, as is highlighted in the Whitman poem, would we still send kids out into the world with no tools to see past the veil of colorful advertisement? Even if it meant we could save our food system and prevent those children from developing health issues early on?

I do believe there is a strong correlation between Birke’s ability to see past the structure and marketing of our society and his schooling. By being roadschooled, Birke saw the farms of the country. He stepped in the mud shared by pigs. He breathed in the air full of pollution, in some areas, and totally void of it in others. He got to experience what real people are doing all over the world to try to fix our food system. What I’m saying, and what I think the authors of these three pieces would agree with, is that it doesn’t take a genius kid to understand the problems of the world and begin to work towards solving them. It takes the ability for that kid to go out into the world and experience it instead of seeing it on a screen.

I personally remember how much I hated the structure of public schooling. I felt that I had more to do with what interested me, but my time was taken up by a bunch of formalities and requirements. If I had been unschooled, what could I have done? Would I have accomplished more by now? Would I now be less jaded about society if I had been exposed to a more free kind of learning? Perhaps if I have children one day, I’ll school them on the road, in the world, with self-guided structure and spontaneity. Then maybe they wont have to be told that the food system is unsustainable, they’ll discover it for themselves.

Environmental Writing: Working Backwards

I’ve often found it funny that as an Environmental Studies major and an avid reader of environmental philosophy and thought, I had not yet read Walden. Perhaps it is because its length scared me away, or I wanted to find lesser known works to study. I’ve always known that Walden was essentially the starting point of “society is doing it wrong, nature is doing it right” literature, but, halfway into the assigned reading, I’ve discovered that the above quote just scratches the surface.

“Ishmael” by Daniel Quinn was the first book I read that truly enlightened me to the cruel contradictions of human history and society. I still cite it as the reason for choosing my major and becoming involved in environmental activism. After reading this bit of “Walden”, however, I’m looking back on Ishmael as much more of a softer introduction into “everything you’ve been taught is wrong” thinking. This gives me the suspicion that this specific genre of environmental writing has become more accessible over time. Could that accessibility have caused increased concern about the environment? Could increased concern about the environment have caused more people to write about their belief that “we’re doing it wrong” in a more accessible fashion as to reach those with lower levels of literary comprehension?

I’m also noticing the bits of “Walden” that later environmental writers certainly found inspiration from. I can almost picture Wendell Berry being overwhelmed and inspired by Thoreau’s assertion that we should abandon society’s valuation system as I was by Quinn’s suggestion that we’re destroying the world and the only way to save it is to oppose what history has deemed “human progress.” I also have personally known people to experience a similar feeling of empowerment after encountering these types of literature. I often wonder if this feeling motivates others in the way it motivated me.

But has humanity learned from these writers who are so certain that the only way to avoid doom is to flip around almost everything society has come to value? Does “Walden”‘s fame suggest that one day we’ll turn this ship around? Or just that some of us will forever be condemned to looking at the society around us and shaking our heads?