nature
The Science and Nature of Wanderlust, tourism, landmarks for nature buffs and more.
Una Via
I didn’t believe it for a minute. I mean, come on; it was Cancun for God’s sake, a city as about as hazardous as a park bench. So as my family and I walked to a restaurant near the lagoon, I was convinced those “Danger: Crocodile Zone” signs we kept seeing had to be some kind of wink-wink photo op for dumb tourists already juiced on a bucket of Coronas and a week’s worth of sunshine. And I totally got the joke: smiling and half-cocked, some moron would hug the sign while an equally be-slathered gringo snapped off a couple shots to email back home to relatives in Minnesota still shoveling out their coal bins. They’re nuts, they’d say between stamping their feet and blowing into their hands to stay warm. And then they’d smile; jealous.
By Christopher Locke5 years ago in Wander
The Lizard
She liked Spring. Could hardly wait for the first warm day, when it was comfortable enough to wear only a knitted pullover and stay outside in the sun long enough to find the first snow flowers poke their little green fingers through the snow without her toes starting to ache from the cold. She still called them snow flowers, because that’s what her grandma called them when she was a little girl. Nobody else calls them that here, she learned that over the years. They are called Lilies of the Valley in America. Which is silly. They are obviously Snow Flowers; they grow right out of the snow. What other flower is resilient like that? SO many other flowers grow in a valley. Fragrant, colorful and flamboyant… But can they survive and break through snow like these plain little white flowers? That’s not the only thing Americans got wrong... She learned that over the years too. She’s been here for 25 years now. It’s home, sort of. She doesn’t belong in the old country anymore, everything has changed and left her behind. But she never truly felt like she belongs here either; her soul felt homeless. She worked as a night shift nurse in a hospital and hated it. Not because of the work, but because of the people. She was a great nurse; sharp, knowledgeable, dependable and efficient but… she didn’t like people much, which is pretty unfortunate when one is a nurse. It wasn’t always like that, but time broke her. Time spent with people broke her. She couldn’t understand why people were so demanding, self-centered, cold, superficial, empty and deaf to truths. That’s not what she remembered from the old country, but that was so long ago… Maybe it’s not just the people here. Maybe people are just different now, everywhere. Or… maybe she became different. She didn’t know, but she grew tired of having to contemplate it often. She noticed that she forgets to think about all this when she is in nature. So she surrounded herself in it as much as she could. It was rejuvenating, liberating and the only time her soul felt at peace.
By Szilvia Beylik5 years ago in Wander
Fingers Crossed
*A torn page with scattered water marks shoved between the cover and front page of a faded black journal* Chances are it's my skeleton smiling at you instead of me... Oh god... I hope it's my skeleton, please let me be a skeleton by the time you find me and not a halfway there, all bloated grossness... yuck. Forget that imagery please. Fortunately, there are so many little critters around I think they'll make quick work of me. I wonder if the venom in me will kill some of them. Does venom work on insects or worms or whatever? If I do get eaten and break down I am technically recycled which I'm all about so, I guess I like that better than the typical coffin situation. So, I am either dead or we are laughing over this wine in hand. Let’s see... What could save me right now? Chaac left for help right after I got bit, we are three days out from a town that maybe has a phone, so best case scenario he gets there and calls an emergency heli evac to find me in this dense jungle, needle meet haystack. What else... someone much more prepared than me who packed the correct antidotes for this region's venomous creatures happens by this secluded grotto, that would be nice. Orrr I internalize this venom and it makes me stronger like Poison Ivy from Batman! Please door number three! If I had to put odds on it, a thousand - a million? - to one I'm a goner. Goner is a funny word am I right? It's weird, I know I'm basically done for but somehow I'm in a peaceful place, just reflecting... could be the morphine I injected to numb the terrible burning pain coursing through my body but, here I am, calm as a cucumber staring up at the chef’s knife. Great idea alert, someone should sell this. Who needs a cocktail or a beer just take two parts venom, one part morphine and three parts dehydration bake in Mexican jungle sauna for a few days and voila! Don't get me wrong, this is definitely a bummer, I. Am. Bummed. A little more time on this big beautiful world, that would have been nice. I haven't even entered the "real world" and I'm already saying my goodbyes which is total BS. This trip was supposed to give me the greatest thesis ever and the doors of every curator and museum would fly open! They would pay me to travel the world exploring and looking for artifacts of past civilizations. Instead I go on my first trip and screw it all up. Anyway, sorry if my last words are weird, I'll make up for it right now, we found it! If you are traipsing around these parts then you probably know what I am talking about and I guess we didn’t “find it” find it, we found out where it definitely is which is just as good if you ask me. Well, at least it should be there. There is no way anyone found the guide post, the area was in total ruin, no one had been there in decades and it's the only thing that points to the final resting place of the artifact. Maybe it's the delirium or the venom eating my brain but I think it would be fun if you had to solve something instead of me just handing it to you on a silver platter. Yea, I had to work for it, and now you do too! Just, think about where you are the people and the heritage. OK, ready?
By Kevork Derderian5 years ago in Wander
Herbarium
The botanists at the Botanic Gardens had been annoyed with me for months. Any plant I came across that looked interesting, I’d bring to them asking what it was. It didn’t take them long to ID the plants I brought them but they weren’t very welcoming to my presence. I started showing up once a week, and soon once a week became twice a week. The first plant they ever identified for me was a clipping from a bush growing in my front yard called “Rue”. They told me that the scientific name was Ruta graveolens and that at one time it was considered medicinal. I found out after doing some research that the plant had a gentle antispasmodic function and could ease cramping and spasms in muscles. I found this to be incredibly fascinating. I never looked at plants the same way after that. My mind concluded that all of the plants in my area were worth investigating. I decided to gather wild weeds regularly to have them identified by the experts.
By Owanrin Obara (Monticue Connally)5 years ago in Wander
A Little River's Gift
The late afternoon sun trickled in through the canopy as Lydia fanned herself with the day’s newspaper. She always made a point to stop by the little convenience store on her way to the riverside to grab herself the latest print. Not that she ever read the news of course, but it sure provided the greatest relief from Alabama’s blistering summer heat.
By Ellie Lennon 5 years ago in Wander
The Heart of the Mountain
The entrance to the underground tunnel was hidden, patiently waiting behind a large silver-spike bush that had probably sprouted up earlier that spring. Darkness reached to the very edge of the opening, ruling out any hope I had of surveying the inside landscape before entering. It had taken five days, once summiting the mountain, to find this first important piece. The small inconsistency at the base of the wall had initially not presented as anything of importance, but after a time of failed searching, my mind brought itself back to that staunchly white shrub.
By Stella Vanne5 years ago in Wander
1933, somewhere in Peru.
The sun bent down and kissed the canopy of the great Amazonian rainforest. In its branches, snakes slithered, black spider monkeys leapt, sloths slowed and jaguars slept. Hungry harpy eagles circled in great arcs overhead, pink river dolphins splashed underneath and persistent everywhere was a humid heat. It clung to the branches, rose from the earth and descended from the sky.
By Dodie Jones5 years ago in Wander
A Held Breath Released
It was a strange night. A thunderstorm was playing in the valley, periodically lighting the sky with flashes of brilliant white and purple. A car trundled through the gushing rain and turmoil of blowing leaves, high beams cut to a thousand shards by spreading branches and swaying limbs. Fragments of light shining through sheets of rain driven horizontal by warm wind. The apprentice stood in the doorway, watching. A strange paradox of cold water and hot air on his face, the taste of ozone on his tongue. Light spilled around him and pooled in the fitful darkness outside. He was still at work, though no longer on the clock working now on his own machine instead of customers. Safe inside, away from the blustering wind that beat at the hangar walls and ruffled the flight line outside, where airplanes stirred on their moorings like strange roosting birds in the darkness. He turned his back on the night and surveyed his progress. The floor was littered with tools and the debris of productivity. Oily rags, acid brushes and tins of lubricating oil surrounded the focus of his interest: a tiny airplane. She was a scrappy looking thing, seven shades of yellow and showing the years of use on every surface. But though old, it was new to him. Bought in a fit of impassioned spending after great aunty Ida kicked the bucket last fall, leaving him $20,000 to "further his education". He supposed that she had a rather more academic use for these funds in mind, but he figures that he learns plenty enough in this hangar. So he'd spent the money and was still trying to convince a small part of himself that it hadn't been a mistake. He smiled tiredly. Closing the door and shutting out the wind, he started to tidy and clean. Bustling about with a smooth efficiency, nesting tools in their places, coiling air lines and mopping up a slick of spilled oil before hanging his overalls on the hook by the door and turning out the lights. Pausing on the door step, he looked back into the darkened space. Satisfied that he wasn't forgetting anything, he closed the door and stepped out into the rain. He headed towards town. The rain now a steady downpour, water splashing noisily over the windshield wipers as they cut their repetitive path across his dim view ahead, headlights struggling to penetrate the rain and shadow. His mind preoccupied, he drove to the bar by the river. It wasn't exactly his kind of place, but she worked there and that was worth the bustle and energy to sit at the bar and wait for her to knock off. When he arrived, the pub was still busy. He spotted her across the room as she was taking glassware from a table with a vaguely harassed air. Hair in a bun, little black notebook poking out of her back pocket. His eyes lingered on the small square of battered paper for a moment before she turned and caught his eye. She smiled when she saw him, a twinkling little grin and a raised eyebrow. "What're you staring at?" He grinned sheepishly in reply and crossed the room and to take a seat by the bar.He ordered a pint and turned to watch the room. Laughter and the bustle of tongues loosened comfortably by drink and flowing conversation. He sat, and he watched. Feeling the subtle shift in demeanour brought by a good rain. A held breath released, dissipating gradually as the low muffled roar of falling water filled in the corners of the room and smoothed the edges of each spoken word. He was pulled from his reverie sometime later by a hand on his back, "Ready to go?""Almost" he replied, before downing the rest of his drink, nodded to her with a grin and stood, gesturing for her to lead the way. Together they walked out into the cool night air. The rain had stopped and as they walked down the lamp lit street, trees who's tops were obscured in darkness would occasionally stir in some unseen breeze, sending a shower of sparkling drops cascading downward. The night was alive, moisture clinging to every stem, leaf and needle. Tiny jewels shivered golden from a snarl of power lines as they passed through a pool of orange street light. Unseen creatures made small rustlings in the grass as they crossed a patch of shadow and above them, thick clouds coiled restlessly in the darkness. Unseen, but felt. A great muffling blanket overhead.This morning the season changed. When he woke, he made coffee for them both and, after delivering one to her in bed he went outside to watch the morning. A day ago the sky was thick with forest fire smoke and the air was sullen and hot. This morning after last nights rain, the air was cool. Above, the mountains were capped in snow while wisps of thick cloud coiled through the valley, flowing out of the mountain draws and curling lazily about pine covered ridge lines. The larch trees, among the pines and firs that cloaked the ridges, rank upon rank, down to the rivers edge were turning yellow, and suddenly the water seemed dark and cold. His breath the barest hint of fog on the air, he smiled at the new day. A changing season is a beautiful thing. Returning to their tiny kitchen, he made breakfast, then packed a lunch before wandering into the darkened bedroom where the cup of coffee from earlier sat cold on the night stand beside her notebook. He paused for a long moment in the doorway, watching the blankets rise and fall slowly as she slept, before quietly closing the door and slipping out of the house.His boss was a real character. That's what people tended to say, at any rate. Loud, quickly angered and always ready to make people around him uncomfortable with obscene comments. The apprentice tended to think a more accurate term would be "intense". They got along well though, the apprentice worked hard and did his best to be personable while his boss loudly went about instructing him, berating him, and periodically firing him in roughly equal measure. When the apprentice opened the hangar door, his boss was already there. "you're late!" He called from the other end of the room. The apprentice checked his watch, he was 15 minutes early. "You've got until the end of the day to earn your job back!" The apprentice grinned, took his overalls from the hook by the door and pulled them on in time to catch a set of keys thrown at him from the other end of the room. "There's a sky wagon out front in for an oil change. Get her warming up, stat!". With that, the day swung into motion. A repetition of comfortable habit, laced through with the smell of hot oil, the drone of the shop radio and the cheery whistling of his boss. The wide doors were open, letting in the cool breeze and a spectacular view of the mountain range across the wide valley. Bathed in golden evening light and cloaked in new snow, they were striking in their clarity as they scraped a rapidly purpling sky. “Alright boss!” he yelled over the din of Pink Floyd and an impact driver, “I quit, I’m going flying!” The reply was muffled, coming from somewhere under the other wing. “alright you’re no use to me this distracted anyway. Go get some!” Towards the mountain range and climbing all the way. Huge and far out of reach, the top of mount fisher glowed in the evening light, drawing him to it, his straining ascent aided by fast rising air. Higher. The whole situation was now breathtaking, he felt utterly small, caught in a delicate balance of momentum. Higher he climbed -higher than these wings should be able to manage- into ever thinning Atmosphere. Perched on a pillow of rising air and now glowing in the same golden light as the peaks, far above the darkening valley floor. The mountain loomed. Below him now, shadow bound to its waist, huge spin-drifts of snow flung skyward from its craggy shoulders. The air which drove up the mountains side, clawing at the rock and flinging those enormous whips of snow upwards the air on which he rode. This air held him aloft, watching the raw elemental dance in detached awe. Seeing ice flung flamelike from this mountaintop, he laughed. He laughed in absurd wonder, he laughed euphoric and small, utterly tiny and completely singular in his mindfulness of where he was. He laughed and laughed and was completely alone in the purpling sky. As he turned for home, he said a quiet thank you to great aunty Ida, just in case she could hear him.
By Hugo Couper5 years ago in Wander
