All Good Things

The downside of writing a blog for class is that once the class ends, so does the blog. While I've enjoyed this first tentative endeavor into the limitless realm known as the blogosphere, I'm not 100% positive when I'll be jumping back into the action with a new blog. I hope to run a blog during my time in Japan next winter/spring (working title: Henna Gaijin: An Iowa Girl in Japan), but I'm not certain whether I'll have the time or opportunity to do so. And if there's one thing I've learned about blogging, it's that keeping a regular schedule is a lot harder to do than you'd think. Maybe I should have thought ahead and set up posts to go live automatically at certain times so that I could write several in a day (as I did several times) and have them post on something at least somewhat resembling an actual schedule. As it is, I'm proud of every post on this blog for one aspect or another, and I'm really glad I finally undertook blogging for the first time (even if it was technically for a grade). I've had fun with the process, even if there were several times I found myself staring at a blank post and wondering "What the heck am I going to write about this time?"

But this blog doesn't exist just to be a blog--it's supposed to be a reminder to me about nature and the place I occupy within nature. Recently, the place I've occupied within nature is being a stressed-out student who really needs more sleep and fewer homework assignments to grapple with, admittedly, but I've enjoyed the constant extra push to be more naturally observant of the world around me. I've found myself (the last few weeks aside) spending more time looking at trees and animals. I've found myself joyfully noticing the first greens poking through the ground, promising eventual daffodils and tulips (even if it ends up taking until June for them to actually bloom). I've been a lot more conscious of my place as a citizen of the natural world, rather than just a distant, sometimes admirer of it.

I'll be honest--I'm a dreamer more than anything. I'm never going to be some hardened, tough naturalist who goes trailblazing through the wilderness for kicks and finds purpose in spending long stretches of time off the grid (two bad knees have basically cancelled all such prospects for me, at the ripe old age of 20). But I'll always find joy in the simple things--the stars, the fireflies, the bunnies, the birds, the tree pigs, the moon, the flowers, the many varieties of weather (warm and cold), the cherry blossoms, the trees, and even the imaginary denizens of the natural world (dragons for life). I'll do what I can to protect those precious things and preserve them for the kids I'll hopefully get to go chasing "earth stars" with on summer evenings here in a few years, and the generations that will come after them.

I have one final challenge for you, dear readers and fellow observers: Stay naturally observant. Take the time to look at the sky, listen to the rain, smell the flowers, giggle at the tree pigs, sing with the birds, and get lost in the starry sky. Don't take the abundant, free beauty around you for granted or let it fade into the background. See it. Love it. Observe it. Treasure it.

One stage of the journey has come to an end.

Endless possibilities for the next leg are right ahead, waiting to be discovered.

And with that, I'm signing off. Goodbye, fellow observers. Blessings to you and yours, and may you never lack natural beauty to surround you.

-Elizabeth

Natural Beyond Reality

Full disclosure: I am a fiction writer. It is what I do now for fun, and what I hope to do for a career after college (and maybe grad school; I don't know for sure yet). I adore the limitless bounds of fiction and the ability to create and read stories about things that could never happen in the real world. As far back as I can remember, I've loved stories about things like fairies, unicorns, and dragons. And so, it was almost guaranteed that there'd be at least one post on this blog about a species of animal that may or may not have ever actually existed.

Clearly, the fictional animals mentioned above don't exist, at least not in the magical forms we are familiar with from the fairytales of our youth (and I'm fairly certain that fairies have never existed in any form). I think, though, that we can all agree that the dinosaurs existed, and they really weren't all that different from the dragons we enjoy reading about in fiction novels and picture books. However, I'm one of those (possibly a wee bit eccentric) people who likes to believe that the fire-breathing dragons of myth once existed (even if I may very well be wrong). I mean, after all, it's pretty impressive that there accounts of dragons from all over the world, from various cultures who likely never had any contact with each other until only mere centuries ago. From the Native American Piasa, to the Chinese Lóng, to the European Dragon, there are accounts of dragons from cultures around the world. Of course, these fearsome lizards could have just been based on dinosaurs, and the legends are likely embellished. But if there are beetles that shoot chemicals that cause burns (see here) then is it really that hard to believe there could have once been a species of reptile that could spit out something similar, which could have been interpreted by early storytellers as fire?

I don't know. Maybe I'm just too much of a dreamer (a fair accusation, to be sure). Maybe I'm one of those people who too-desperately wishes for things to be real that aren't. It just seems unlikely to me that so many cultures would have surprisingly-similar accounts of a species of animal purely by coincidence.

In reality, though, there is a species of animal known as draco volans (or, I kid you not, "the common flying dragon"), a tiny, dragon-like lizard that can glide short distances using flaps of skin that look like dragon wings. It may not be the same thing as the sort of dragons I'd like to wish existed at some point in earth's history, but these little guys are very cute just the same.

 

This post's challenge is to try and find a real equivalent to your favorite fantasy animal somewhere on the internet. Unicorns may not exist, for example, but many beautiful varieties of horses and deer do (as does the narwhal). Have fun stretching your imagination, fellow observers, and I'll see you again soon.

Coming Soon(ish) to An Outdoor Cinema Near You (Maybe)

If there is one thing I'm looking forward to right now, it's summer break and everything that comes along with it. Long, lazy days spent on the couch writing stories, going out and dancing around in every rainstorm that isn't accompanied by too much thunder and lightning, drinking homemade lemonade and Kool-Aid like they're going out of style, going swimming at least a few times, eating Blue Bunny ice cream novelties for dessert three nights a week, not having to worry about homework--heck, yeah. Long story short, summer life is the best life (even though I am not a big fan of anything hotter than about eighty degrees. Anything hotter than that, and everything involving my being outside is essentially cancelled). The only time of year I like more than summer break is probably winter break, but that's because snow is normally my favorite weather (ONLY DURING THE RIGHT SEASON) and Christmas is my favorite time of year. The main determining factor for why I love both summer and winter break is, of course, probably fairly obvious. There isn't homework. (I dread the day when summer no longer equates to four months of taking things slower than usual, thanks to only having a part-time florist job to worry about.)

 

As great as summertime is overall, there is one thing I love more than any other aspect of the season. That one thing is the firefly. Every night from about June until August, there's a little shower of what I call "earth stars" that buzz lazily around my yard and neighborhood, filling the air with cheerful little glows everywhere you look. My two youngest siblings (they'll be eleven and eight this summer) love going out on cooler evenings and carefully catching the little bugs out of the air to study for a few minutes. There's nothing more exciting to the littlies than managing to carefully snag a flying insect right out of the air and letting it fly away again a moment later. Even though I'm going on twenty-one, I'll freely admit I still find a sense of wonder and euphoria from successfully nabbing one as well.

 

My whole life, fireflies have always been a given. I've lived in two regions of Missouri, one area of Illinois, and two places in Iowa. The landscapes of my childhood and early adulthood homes have varied from suburbia, to inner-city St. Louis, to less than a mile from cows and cornfields, but one constant has always been fireflies. (Unless, of course, I'm remembering fireflies in St. Louis when there weren't any; I might have to ask my mom.) My point is that it came to me as a total shock and surprise to learn that many, perhaps even most, parts of the United States don't have fireflies. People know they exist, of course, but many haven't ever seen them in person. Every summer, I end up taking videos of fireflies to show to my friends who don't have fireflies where they live. What has always been a staple of summer (and quite honestly, one of the best staples) for me is something as unknown to others as snow is to many southern parts of the US.

So, personally, I'm eagerly looking forward to the return of the "earth stars" here in a few months (assuming it actually warms up at some point). But if you live in an area where fireflies are unheard of, here's a lovely video I found (filmed in Iowa, as it turns out) that'll give you at least some idea of how beautiful these insects really are:

This post's challenge is one you can put on hold until warmer times arrive. Try to find a beautiful insect or bug of any variety, whether a butterfly, spider, firefly, or housefly (I won't judge). These tiny creatures can be annoying in some cases (I swear I'm not arachnophobic, but I'll still scream when I see a spider in my house when I'm not expecting it), but they're beautiful all the same. Keep dreaming of summer, fellow observers, and I'll see you again soon.

Complaints About the Weather Aside...

It is April, and regardless of the depressing number on the thermometer, that means it's increasingly the season of papers, projects, and exams. It seems like life has turned into a cycle of saying "I just need to get through this week" over and over again-- every. Single. Week. For every project that finally gets finished, there's another three (or so it feels) looming on the horizon. And, of course, the reading schedule isn't really letting up any, no matter where you turn.

Long story short, I'm exhausted, and the fact that the weather makes me want to just burrow under a mountain of fluffy blankets and sleep for forty-eight hours straight doesn't really help either.

But I said I wouldn't complain about the weather, so I digress.

You might be wondering how this post connects to nature, and the short answer is that it doesn't. The long answer is that it connects to nature through the fact that it does not connect to nature. What I'm saying is that I, the self-proclaimed naturally-observant student, have not been too terribly naturally observant recently. And boy, am I feeling the effects. I've been more stressed, sleepier, and definitely more under the seven-letter-word-that-starts-with-W recently. A simple lack of taking the time to look around outside, breathe some fresh air, and exist as something connected to the earth rather than just taking up space on it (due to not really having the time to do so) has definitely left a starved hole somewhere inside some part of me. And if it's this bad for me, as a resident of a smaller city in Iowa, how bad is it, I wonder, for those who spend their whole lives surrounded by concrete, neon, and smoggy buses? Just a few weeks spent without sky-watching, stargazing, plant-appreciating, or squirrel-observing has left some part of my soul hungry for something it just isn't getting within the world of classrooms, meeting rooms, and dorms. At least, if I can manage to squeeze the time in, there is still nature waiting for me to come look at it (even if much of it is still brown). For those in bigger cities, that often isn't an option (despite the fact that spending time in nature increases work productivity).

Hopefully, I'll be able to catch a breath, relax in some warm sunshine, and catch up on observing the nature around me someday soon. But even as I'm spending a few minutes being sorry for myself and my nature-starvation, I find myself mourning those who have it far worse than I do. Maybe I'm not so much nature-starved as just nature-hungry. Suddenly, classrooms with trees outside the window don't look half so bad after all.

This week's challenge is to consciously take a moment to be naturally observant in any way, shape, or form. Think of it as a nature-savoring free-for-all. Watch a bird, chase a squirrel, dance in a chilly rainstorm, or cheerfully, loudly caw back at a crow in front of a high-school tour group exploring your college campus (there is absolutely no reason why that last example is so specific; I can assure you). Above all else, stay observant, fellow observers. Feed that piece of you that still longs to be connected to the earth. Don't let it starve.

I Just Want to Go Outside (original poem)

Today's post is simple: My poetic plea to the universe to please hurry up and let Master Winter go his merry way and let Madam Spring take over. Normally winter is my favorite season, but I'm sick of the cold. I'm sick of the snow and ice. I'm sick of staying inside watching the dreary weather outside and daydreaming of sunbathing and reading at the picnic tables on campus. I'm sick of having to wear a winter coat everywhere in the month of A p r i l. I'm just so ready for spring, and beyond that--

"I Just Want to Go Outside!"

Last night I had a wondrous dream
Of reading on a hill
In a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers
It brought a lovely thrill

Today I wake up and look out
It's still gross and cold, I find
I'm getting sick of winter, man
I just want to go outside

This semester's quickly getting old
I'm running off of stress
When I get like this I often find
That the outdoors helps me best

But I can't really do that
When the weatherman has lied--
It's still forty degrees, turns out
But I just want to go outside

Now, look, I am a simple girl
I love the snow and rain
But truth be told, they're getting old
I'd like some sun again

There's snow forecast for tomorrow
And possibly this weekend- sigh.
Will it ever stop pouring ice?
I just want to go outside.

I'm getting tired of the same four walls
And all the dead, brown grass
Some leaves before finals would be great
Or some birds to watch in class

They say April showers bring May flowers
But what do April snowfalls provide?
It had better be seventy degrees and sun-
I just want to go outside!!!

Reaching for the Moon

There are few events in human history that enchant and fascinate me as much as the July 20, 1969 landing of the Apollo 11 mission on the moon. After centuries spent looking up at the moon and dreaming, humanity finally managed to reach the previously unreachable and touch the giant, craterous rock that serves as the largest light in the night sky. Though, of course, politics were very much wrapped up in this achievement, as they often are, and though many choose to question the fact that the moon landing ever even occurred, the fact of the matter is that it is one of the most triumphant, awe-inspiring moments humanity has achieved to date.

I think almost every little kid raised in the United States has a phase where they dream of being an astronaut. When I was very little, I spent a year or two convinced I was somehow going to be the first woman on the moon, the first woman on Mars, and eventually also the first woman president. Even now that I'm grown, I dream of and look forward to the possibility of seeing somebody land on Mars (or even the moon again) in my lifetime. I would love to one day have a child sit, enraptured, watching in awe as a citizen of Earth steps foot on the surface of Mars for the first time, just as my father sat and stared in sheer amazement when the first moon landing was televised.

In the end, similarly to the stars, the moon serves as a beautiful, constant yet simultaneously ever-changing facet of nature that encourages the human residents of earth to never stop dreaming and continuing to reach for that which was once proclaimed unreachable. Just as once, a "giant leap" was made for all of mankind, there is no telling what other giant leaps the future still holds.

The challenge for this week is to take some time to admire the moon. Keep skywatching, fellow Observers, and I'll see you again soon.

桜、桜、花盛り。/ Cherry Blossoms, Cherry Blossoms, Flowers in Full Bloom.

桜、桜　　　　　　　　  
の山も里も                           
見渡す限り                        
霞か雲か                            
朝日に匂う                    
桜、桜                                 
花盛り。

Sakura, Sakura
no yama mo sato mo
miwatasu kagiri
kasumi ka kumo ka
asahi ni niou
Sakura, Sakura
hanazakari.

Sakura (cherry blossoms), Sakura
On the mountains, in the towns
Blooms as far as we can see
Like the mist, like the clouds
Fragrant in the morning sun
Sakura, Sakura
Flowers in full bloom.                              

The above is one of the few Japanese songs I have memorized (and am therefore actually able to type out using my laptop). It is a traditional song, indicative of the beloved cherry blossom season, which begins in mid-March in southern Japan and continues throughout most of the month of April, as the blooms slowly work their way north over the early spring weeks.

In Japan, the cherry blossom is viewed as a symbol of the beauty, frailty, and brevity of life. The delicate blossoms explode into bloom all at once, and last only a few short days before being blown to the ground by the spring breeze or falling all on their own. To the Japanese people, the arrival of the cherry blossom season also signifies the end of the winter and the beginning of the spring. The Japanese school year ends on March 31st and begins again on April 1st, so this is also a season of exams, stress, impending graduations, and the launching from one school year right into the next. Amidst all of this educational worry and work, the presence of the blossoms and an afternoon spent admiring them can be a welcome period of relaxation and relief.

Here in Sioux City, the Morningside College campus boasts several beautiful cherry trees of our own, though we'll probably have to wait several more weeks to be able to see them in bloom--southern Japan, after all, is quite a bit warmer than northwestern Iowa this time of year. Even so, as the first few photos of cherry blossoms tweeted out by winter-weary, spring-eager Japanese accounts scroll across my Twitter feed, and the weather here finally slowly starts to grow a bit more decent, I find myself growing excited and eager to see the cherry blossoms here once they've bloomed in a month or so. Even more, I find myself growing especially excited to see the cherry blossoms in Japan next spring, when I will be spending a semester studying abroad. In the meantime, though, it sounds like for now I'm going to have to deal with a bit more snow this weekend. Hopefully one of these days soon, things will start really warming up for good, but for now, at least I have photos of freshly-bloomed cherry blossoms (which happen to be my favorite flower) to look at and daydream about until spring finally showers her gentle graces upon us poor Northern Plainers as well.

This week's challenge is to learn a bit about a flower or plant you've had an interest in for awhile but haven't ever really looked into. You might be surprised by the significance a seemingly-innocuous plant or flower might hold for another one of the beautiful cultures that also calls our marvelous Earth home. Keep your eyes out for the first signs of spring, my winter-weary fellow Observers, and I'll see you again soon.