“The tree seemed to lengthen itself out as she went up, and to reach farther and farther upward. It was like a great main-mast to the voyaging earth; it must truly have been amazed that morning through all its ponderous frame as it felt this determined spark of human spirit creeping and climbing from higher branch to branch. Who knows how steadily the least twigs held themselves to advantage this light, weak creature on her way! The old pine must have loved his new dependent. More than all the hawks, and bats, and moths, and even the sweet-voiced thrushes, was the brave, beating heart of the solitary gray-eyes child. And the tree stood still and held away the winds that June morning while the dawn grew bright in the east” (Jewett, 1205).

This passage beautifully described a relationship between the tree and the girl. This relationship developed as she climbed, signifying her closer connection to the tree and the world around her. In the end, she truly feels she has earned the reward below.

“Sylvia could see the white sails of ships out at sea, and the clouds that were purple and rose-colored and yellow at first began to fade away. Where was the white heron’s nest in the sea of green branches, and was this wonderful sight and pageant of the world the only reward for having climbed to such a giddy height?” (Jewett, 1206).

This joyous sight is her sacred reward for climbing and seeking out the heron on her own. She considers this a secret of the heron that she is now responsible to keep. She won’t even tell the one who came searching for the heron, and who, in part, inspired her own search. The understanding of this view and this world in which the heron lives is its own reward.

“Then to my morning work. First I take an axe and pail and go in search of water, if that be not a dream. After a cold and snowy night it needed a divining rod to find it. Every winter the liquid and trembling surface of the pond, which was so sensitive to every breath, and reflected every light and shadow, becomes solid to the depth of a foot or a foot and a half, so that it will support the heaviest teams, and perchance the snow covers it to an equal depth, and it is not to be distinguished from any level field. Like the marmots in the surrounding hills, it closes its eye-lids and becomes dormant for three months or more” (Thoreau, 306-307).

Thoreau’s description of Walden Pond uniquely compares it to the animals of the area, through the seasons in an awesome, magical transformation. The pond changes so much between the seasons, but it remains a sensitive, yet strong entity.

“What is a country without rabbits and partridges? They are among the most simple and indigenous animal products; ancient and venerable families known to antiquity as to modern times; of the very hue and substance of Nature, nearest allied to leaves and to the ground, – and to one another; it is either winged or it is legged” (Thoreau, 305).

“Beaver dams create swamps, or wetlands, which are beneficial to countless other species of fauna and flora. These wetlands are lodes of species diversity, the “rain forests of the North.” By chewing down trees and maintaining their dams to keep the water level behind them fairly constant, beavers slow moving water, allowing sediments in it to fall out to create rich layers of soil and, eventually, broad lowland meadows that serve as breaks from the surrounding forest. Beaver dams filter pollutants, help control seasonal flooding, and reduce erosion” (Sterba, 64).

“As the tundra warmed, seeds of woody plants invaded from the south (so did mammals, including man) and within a few centuries – a mere snap of the fingers in geologic time – a vast forest appeared” (Sterba, 65).

“The state’s beaver population had grown to an estimated eighteen to twenty thousand, and although damage complaints hadn’t grown to levels deemed unacceptable, wildlife officials believed that the beaver population’s social carrying capacity was near. In contrast, biological carrying capacity means the point at which the beaver population (or any other species) reaches the limit of food and other resources that its habitat can sustain. Its adjunct, ecological carrying capacity, is the point beyond which a species adversely affects its habitat and the flora and other fauna within it. Social carrying capacity is more subjective. The phrase was coined to designate the point at which problems or damage caused by a wild population outweigh its benefits in the public mind” (Sterba, 75).

The idea of suburban and exurban sprawl presented by Sterba was quite an interesting historical relationship, so I did some further exploration on the topic.

“Data collected for the 2000 Census had revealed a demographic tipping point: For the first time an absolute majority of the American people lived not in cities, not on farms, but in an ever-expanding suburban and exurban sprawl in between. Never in history have so many people lived this way” (46). 

Today, suburbs are so incredibly common. If you ask someone where he or she is from, the answer is generalized to say the Philadelphia, New Haven, Rochester, Newark, etc. area, referring to a suburb of a major city, where his or her parents probably work.

“‘If you looked down at Connecticut from on high in the summer, what you’d see was mostly unbroken forest,’ he said. ‘If you did the same thing in late fall after the leaves have fallen from those trees, what you’d see was stockbrokers.'” (52).

This passage resonated with me because I am from Connecticut. I know that many people in the state live there for (slightly) more affordable living than New York City and for a reasonable commute into the city. If not New York City, many people will work in the few larger cities in the state and live just outside of the city. While this trend is a common one across the country, the passage seemed to sum up the state well.

http://environment.nationalgeographic.com/environment/habitats/urban-sprawl/

The article above made me reflect back on the reading in Nature Wars as it discusses the irony of urban sprawl. The article notes that people living in developments may ask incredulously whether the adjacent farmland will be developed, which is quite ironic considering the land that these people live on was previously similar farmland. This makes me wonder whether people are really so unaware of how these idyllic suburban neighborhoods have developed across the land. People see their fulfilled American Dream in these homes, but it took a lot of destruction to get to that point. Although the article is a long one, it offers worthwhile commentary on urban sprawl.

“One reason for confusion and conflict is that Americans have become denatured. That is to say, they have forgotten the skills their ancestors acquired to manage an often unruly natural world around them, and they have largely withdrawn from direct contact with that world by spending most of their time indoors, substituting a great deal of real nature with reel nature – edited, packaged, digitized, and piped in electronically.” (Sterba, xv-xvi)

This passage expresses a key concern that has been presented throughout the class so far. People are regarded as separate from nature, and people don’t try to be a part of it. I really enjoyed the “real” and “reel” play on words. It compares true experiences in nature with those presented in images, from photos or movies or anything else people view indoors these days. People enjoy pretty images of nature all the time, but don’t always go out to explore it.

[Describing Cadillac Mountain] “A landscape created by glaciers that advanced and receded for a million years. Like a sculptor with chisels and sandpaper, the glacial ice cut and smoothed bedrock, creating twenty-six mountains of pink granite arranged side by side, north to south, many elongated like baguettes of French bread.” (Sterba, 8)

As a geology lover (and major), this passage stood out as it made me think about geologic processes through geologic time. This transformation of land occurred over a very long time compared to the lifetime perceived by humans. The description paints a beautiful image of how majestic and artistic nature can appear.

I also just found it very interesting that Acadia National Park went through so many different names! One of these names was Lafayette National Park. We often talk about the importance of naming things, and so I thought it pretty cool that this national park once shared the same name as our school.

“One of the great historical ironies of Mount Desert Island was that its natural beauty was being destroyed just as it was being ‘discovered’. Until the mid-nineteenth century, the idea that ‘wilderness’ could be appealing was bizarre to most people. But Thomas Cole, the landscape artist, and other painters of the Hudson River school, helped change that notion. Cole visited the island first in 1844. Other painters followed. They glorified the island’s rugged beauty and its people’s simple life, portraying in their brushstrokes both the raw landscapes and the lives of farmers and fishermen who lived by the sea.” (Sterba, 13)

Upon reading this passage, I paused my reading in order to understand what was being discussed. I was intrigued at the mention of Thomas Cole after our previous discussions of his work, so I searched for a painting of Mount Desert Island by him. The image below truly does capture the rugged beauty of the island.

The website where I found the image also included the following quote from Cole’s journal: “A tremendous overhanging precipice, rising from the ocean, with the surf dashing against it in a frightful manner. The whole coast along here is iron bound, threatening crags, and dark caverns in which the sea thunders.” 

http://www.albanyinstitute.org/details/items/frenchmans-bay-mount-desert-island-maine.html

While I did work with a small group for our leaf hunt in class yesterday (which was a lot of fun), I was the only one with an Android phone and not an iPhone. It was a very good thing we all collaborated because my app was frustrating and often gave imprecise or inconclusive results. For a few leaves, we would identify them positively on other phones, but my matches for the same leaf would be entirely different. Although this process was a bit frustrating and confusing with my app, I found myself just appreciating the leaves and the trees they came from more. The varied colors of fall, the smooth or jagged edges, the clear or spotted surfaces, the holes from bugs, and the parasites were all simply fascinating.

And I just attempted to upload the images from the app. But the website gave an error message saying that the files could not be uploaded for security reasons, so they are also in an odd format. The images would have shown 2 leaves that had inconclusive matches that did not align with what we knew about the trees and 2 leaves identified generally as oak and maple.

“But now, for the first time in its history, gardening has taken on a role that transcends the needs of the gardener. Like it or not, gardeners have become important players in the management of our nation’s wildlife. It is now within the power of individual gardeners to do something that we all dream of doing: to “make a difference.” In this case, the “difference” will be to the future of biodiversity, to the native plants and animals of North America and the ecosystems that sustain them” (Tallamy, 9).

The phrase “make a difference” made this passage stand out to me during the reading because of the upcoming Make a Difference Day community service event. As part of my MOSAIC Staff position, I also collaborate with a group to lead campus wide events, which includes planning Make a Difference Day. It has been a very exciting experience to see it all come together, as the event is this weekend (unfortunately I cannot actually be there to see all the hard work come to fruition because it conflicts with the hiking trip). This passage acknowledges the power that a few people, such as gardeners, can have to make a difference, which relates to the event where volunteers will work at numerous gardens throughout the area.

“Native plants are well adapted to their particular ecological niche and so are often far less difficult to grow than species from other altitudes, latitudes, and habitats. After all, these plants evolved here and were growing just fine long before we laid our heavy hands on the landscape” (Tallamy, 10).

This passage stood out because its discussion of native plants reminded me of the efforts that went into the pollinator garden to ensure its sustainable nature. Emily (the other garden coordinator) and I researched plants that were both sustainable in terms of supporting pollinators and encouraging native growth. The garden can be used as an example to other schools or groups that it is very much possible to create a sustainable, native garden.