nature

The Science and Nature of Wanderlust, tourism, landmarks for nature buffs and more.

Out of the Woods
Although most people don't, I remember the day I grew up. I remember the day when the air was no longer fresher than a cold bottle of water and the sky was no longer as blue as a brand new colored pencil right out of the box in a set of school supplies you bought the week before. The concrete roads were broken underneath my tattered hand me down sneakers and the sounds around me were of the hustle and bustle of moms and dads getting to and from work to put food on the table. The life I once knew was gone at an instance and I realized that we're in a simulation of repetitiveness until the day our physical body finally decides to give out. Will I ever be the same again and most importantly will I be okay?
By Blu Rose5 years ago in Wander
Moleskine Memories
It was at the back of her grandmother’s closet that she found the old cedar chest. The rusty, iron hinges looked Medieval though they were probably made in Pittsburgh in the 1800’s. She opened the heavy lid which made a terrible squeal. There were compartments inside, decorated with pretty, patterned paper, and in the top section was the usual accumulation of memories: handmade baby clothes with crocheted lace; a stuffed bear with one missing eye; a broken Hummel; black and white family pictures that never made it into the many albums she would find underneath; and a little, black book -- a Moleskine journal, its pages filled with her tiny, immaculate cursive.
By Dex Decker5 years ago in Wander
A Boy, a Dog and a Forest
What is it about a boy, a dog and a forest? When you put them all together, it makes the world go away. I must have been at least 10. It couldn’t have been earlier than that, because we were gone together all day – that black and white mutt of a dog and I. We tramped through those woods from morning to night – well, to dinnertime anyway. It never really occurred to us – to me – that I hadn’t told anyone where we were going. That was mostly because when we left I didn’t know either. We just went.
By William Altmann5 years ago in Wander
Mussel Strong
I have been a mussel driver for better than twenty years. I have had modest wild pearl finds in the Tennessee side of the Kentucky Lake. I keep track of my dives in a little black book. This book has been invaluable in helping me analyze where and when I had the best dives. My black book is integral to my mussel diving business.
By Michellia Wilson 5 years ago in Wander
Older Than Ancient
As the stinging air of a winter storm in Minnesota goes scraping across your face it becomes impossible to think of anything other than escaping its cold hearted attack on your flesh. The snow flies and swirls around. At times the fresh snow falling from the sky plummets in these huge lazy clusters of snowflakes that are so scattered they almost look like stars in the night sky. Other times the snow comes down in the tiniest little flakes, but they come down so hard and so fast that looking out into the storm is like looking directly into a field of blinding whiteness. When you combine the challenge of being able to simply see anything in front of you with the real threat of hypothermia and frostbite, rarely does anyone take the time to think about how the sky all around you is full of snow that is older than ancient. The snowflakes that you caught on your tongue as a child and scraped off your car as an adult are the same snowflakes that fell on the dinosaurs.
By Steven B5 years ago in Wander
Hidden in the Leaves
Sarah sniffled as she walked down the empty sidewalk. It was autumn so there were hundreds of colorful leaves scattered across her path. With each step she took, there was a crunching sound to be heard. Sarah was looking down but she couldn’t bother to pay attention to where she was walking. In fact, she couldn’t see much more than an array of colors through the tears that shielded her eyes. Suddenly, there was a different sound that filled the crisp autumn air. Sarah lifted her gaze slightly. She had kicked something. Her eyes searched around for it, but the sidewalk was so entirely covered with leaves that she could only see orange, yellow, red, and brown caking the surface in front of her. Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. She thought maybe her eyes being glazed over with tears had obscured her vision. But, to her dismay, the sidewalk was really just smothered with warmly colored leaves. She frowned for the umpteenth time that day. Nothing seemed to be going right for her today. First, her professor embarrassed her in front of the entire class for not knowing what the bell curve is. She felt like she was never going to learn anything in that class because the statistics professor expected her to know everything already. Speaking of not learning anything, Sarah could not learn a thing in her French class, which was right after stats, because all she could do was replay the moment the class broke out into snickers. What a horrible sound. Then, in the library, she tripped and spilled her iced coffee onto the pretty girl in the pastel dress and got glared at by the pretty girl in pastel as well as her comparably pretty friends. Now, she was walking home with tears spilling down her cheeks, and not even that could go right. Of course, she had to kick something.
By Merina S5 years ago in Wander
Camp fire
I love Mornings at the campsite! I’m always the first one up to start the coffee on the campfire. The fog was lifting off of the water, the smell of the fresh air, the wind in the trees and that moment. The moment were you feel one with nature.
By Leslie Strom5 years ago in Wander
The Finch, Twice
Years ago on a cold morning, I woke up cursing my broken furnace while getting ready for work. Cold house, cold room, cold water, cold. I put on a set of thermals and it didn't help. It was in my bones, the cold, like I had smoked it the night before. I got ready, cursing. I made sure to start my car several minutes before leaving, but when I got in the car to leave the heater was still cold. It was an old car. Probably I should've known better and started it sooner. I started on my way to work, still cursing. It seemed like I was the only person out, like I was the only person dense enough to go to work on a day like this.
By Chad Kimball5 years ago in Wander
Beneath The Thorn
It was a scorching day in the small village of Magaya. The vengeful sun beat down Chuki’s head, it sometimes felt to her like the sun was trying to punish everyone. Chuki was a sedulous worker, she almost worked a little too hard, she spent her days in the fields nurturing the crops as if they were her own children, like her life depended on it, because it did. Magaya was one of the poorest villages in Mali, no one had it easy, but Chuki never let her poverty overcome her prosperity.
By Mariah Mandwe5 years ago in Wander
Backcountry Monsoon
I loved camping as a kid, and on my 18th birthday my parents bought me a bunch of camping gear, just as I had asked. A canteen, a thermal blanket, flint, survival saw, lantern, flashlight, snake bite kit, a stove, and a kettle. I had this idea that I should try it again as an adult. Figured I’d like it. The only thing they didn't get me was a tent.
By Chad Kimball5 years ago in Wander
What Trees Can Teach Us About Community and Connection
For several years, one of my favorite daily rituals has been taking a walk through our property’s cathedral-like aspen grove intricately interspersed with majestic Douglas-fir trees. These arboreal walks sustain and enliven each day, from the buttery, yellow-leafed spring to the frosty, snow-covered winter.
By Aurora Eliam5 years ago in Wander
Secrets In The Mountains
Day after day and night after night, hours seem to come and go. Making a days pay to support just the basic needs of life is more challenging then people really know and at what cost! mines or yours?
By juanita monreal5 years ago in Wander