Geography of the James

As my sophomore year winds down and my time in Earthlodge comes to an end, I realize how much I’ve grown both as a person and a learner this year, and how much of that is because of this class. Simply put: I’ve gained sight.

My recognition of this change came last weekend in Kissimmee, Florida, when I was at the Quidditch World Cup with the team. About three minutes into my first game of the tournament, a guy from the University of Texas-Austin team hurled a bludger (dodgeball) directly into my eye, temporarily blinding it. Trying not to panic, after the game I iced my eye and began to blink continuously and frantically, hoping to regain some semblance of vision. No luck. Luckily, a few of my teammates’ parents were at the tournament to watch us play, and one of the mothers offered to drive me to the ER. Five hours, multiple explanations of way Quidditch works and a diagnosis of traumatic iritis later, I was headed back to the fields with about 60% of my left eye’s vision returned. The percentage has been steadily increasing ever since, and my vision is nearly completely back now. My black eye and hospital wrist band are the only remaining evidence of my optical crisis.

From the moment I realized my vision was gone, all I wanted in the world was to see normally again. I didn’t care that exams were coming up, that I was going abroad by myself, or that I missed my family. Every other problem I’ve ever had just seemed so ridiculous and trivial. Terrifying images of the countless changes to my life that would occur if my vision never returned spun rampant through my chaotic mind.

My point is that my slow re-development of literal vision made me realize how much more I notice and appreciate now in comparison to the beginning of this year, and even the beginning of freshman year. It reminds me of our distinction between a region and a place. I used to not think about where I was very much, because it all seemed so unimportant. The point is I’m here, why over-analyze?

It’s not over-analysis, it’s awareness. It’s the ability to look around, know which trees surround you, if you’re in a riparian zone or not, if you’re near a point or non-point source of pollution, etc. My heightened awareness was definitely in play during our recent canoe trip, as the entire time I found myself connecting puzzle piece after puzzle piece of class discussions to my surroundings. From the water tests we conducted to the simple appreciation of the cosmetic value of James River detritus, I felt more in-touch with my surroundings by far than ever before. And that’s not to say that this new awareness has crept up on me and jumped out just now. Reflecting on my blog posts this semester, I can actually track and see myself changing. The most obvious indicator of my increased perception lies in my spring break blog post. Even more exciting, I can see my classmates’ progression of perception as well. Anne, Kevin and Natalie have all shown an increased awareness of their surroundings this semester.

Aside from my heightened appreciation of the physical beauty of everything around me, I now see what an effect a person’s passion has on everything. Yes, it’s one of the key characteristics of an effective environmental leader, but in my opinion it is a vital characteristic of a successful individual. Take Ralph White for example. When we were walking down the pipe in front of the heron rookery, and talking on the beach, he simply came alive. It was as if the James River was his bloodstream and life source. His eyes lit up when he was speaking, his body language was bouncy, and you could just tell that he was so thrilled that we were there and ready to learn everything he had to teach us. Second example: our Potomac/James River debate last week. Kenta and Taylor were on fire. If one of them had asked to represent me in court that day, I might have said yes. Their charisma lets their passion shine through, and that is what makes it so powerful. However, I’ve also come to understand that everybody is passionate, it’s just that for some it just takes a little more digging to find. Some people were quieter during the debate, though they are some of the most environmentally passionate people in that room. Just as everybody expresses themselves differently, everybody’s passion is expressed differently. I’m passionate about the environment. I love the James River. However, I cannot begin to compete with the level of debate that occurred between Taylor and Kenta, because I’m an horrific public speaker. I prefer to let my environmental passion show through my dedication to science, to research. Ralph White prefers to show it through teaching. Some write about it, some attend protests, some volunteer. And no strategy is better than another.

Sight can have so many different meanings. I have my literal sight back, and will never again take it for granted. But this year with Earthlodge I’ve developed a new kind of sight, one that lets me appreciate where I am, what that means, and what is going on the ecosystem around me. I’ve learned to recognize the passion in everybody, and understand that everybody may choose to express that passion in different ways. I’ve learned that taking a step back and observing my surroundings is a better therapy than any psychiatrist, that a greater comprehension of the environment and the people around me is a better teacher than any book. I’ve learned so much this year being in Earthlodge, and the summary of what I’ve learned is so abstract that it can only be properly articulated in the words I spoke after stepping back onto the Quidditch field post-hospital on Saturday: I can see.

Since childhood, I have consistently swam, fished, wakeboarded and explored a variety of rivers, lakes and ocean. My experience in and around watershed has been extensive. However, I until recently, I failed to acknowledge the importance of these watersheds outside of my own personal recreation. When I first arrived at University of Richmond, the James River was a mystery that I did not bother to look into. Throughout my first year at Richmond, I visited Belle Isle a time or two and frequently mountain biked along the shores of the James. I did not learn the real significance of the river until I joined Earthlodge. Rivers connect people to cities and influence how people view their sense of place.

The James River serves as he most important and central feature of Richmond. Throughout the semester, the significance of the James throughout Richmond’s founding and history, economic development and sense of place and bring people together has become increasingly apparent. Kenta commented on the importance of the James and how it defines the city, which resonated with me. Without the James, it is not likely that there would be the abundance of parks that the James River Park system has. The James creates a reason to conserve and created protected areas. Without the James, the Buttermilk and North Bank trails that I frequently mountain bike would not have a reason to be there. Through the activities of Earthlodge, I have realized the importance of the James. If I had not volunteered with Ralph White to pick up trash on Mayo Island, then I would have not realized the importance of the James in bringing together people and defining place. While on the James River, he explained how historically, the James provided fish for a variety of conflicting tribes, but when fishing season hit a peak, the opposing Indian chiefs came together to put their differences aside to focus on the productive harvest. Even today, White noted, the James brings together people from all classes. In one stretch of the river homeless people fish from the shore to keep fish for dinner, while fancy fly-fisherman wade in the rapids to target smallmouth bass and American Shad. Simultaneously, children play in the sand along the shore and kayakers travel through America’s best urban white water. Although I have had extensive experiences with others on rivers, I have never been able to verbalize the characteristic of moving water to bring people together until now.

In other cities around the world, rivers continue to have influence to connect people to their cities. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the Colorado River plays a critical role in Austin, Texas. The river is dammed into large lakes, which support year round recreation, including fishing, boating, swimming and kayaking. Downtown Austin hugs Lady Bird Lake, and provides beautiful views of green space. In Austin, the river serves a similar purpose as the James does for Richmond. The Colorado provides a center for the city to congregate as well as a place that brings people together, such as events like Austin City Limits music festival that centers along the shore of Lady Bird Lake. However, rivers serve far different purposes in places like the Amazon. In the Amazon, rivers serve as an extremely important feature in the Amazon rainforest, such as a major source of transportation and as a food source. In the remote stretches of southwestern Amazonia, the Peruvian city of Pucallpa lies at the end of the road system. From here, the only source of transportation for the various loggers, rubber tappers, drug cultivators and indigenous people are the Ucalayi River and Abujao River (see map). In these communities, rivers facilitate travel to Pucallpa for necessary services or goods. Additionally, the river provides a significant source of protein for many of these communities. Without the river, there would be no reason to live there.

Learning about our watershed and the connections between it and the people will be important in preserving the health of our watersheds. The importance of rivers in providing ecosystem services, recreation, and transportation stated above implies that we should strive to protect them. Forsyth argues that individuals are more likely to work to protect streams and rivers in their watershed if they are more aware of local water features. I can personally attest to Forsyth’s argument. Since I began to learn more about the James through class, I definitely have a stronger desire to protect it. Groffman states the dramatic effects urbanization has had on riparian areas and watersheds. This will likely continue as population continues to grow, especially in the west, where there is more room to grow. By focusing part of environmentalism on education, watersheds can be partially protected. Lauren talks about how her group is working to raise awareness in the James River watershed by adding signs on campus. This is a small, but meaningful way to raise awareness, which could in turn serve to protect the James River watershed.

Through my growth from Earthlodge, I have learned the physical, political and social characteristics of the James River. More generally, I have learned the importance of rivers in the larger context in the connection between people and place. As I continue to learn of their importance, I hope to apply my knowledge to future situations. When I go back to Austin, I will now view the Colorado in a different context, outside of my own use. I will observe how it serves to connect people to other people and helps define the place that is Austin. Furthermore, when I spend six weeks in Pucallpa this summer, I hope to apply what I have learned about the characterstics of watersheds and contextualize the watershed within the perspective of local people. As I plan to spend much of my free time on the water, understanding the importance of watersheds will be invaluable knowledge.

As my time in Earth Lodge comes to an end, I think back on not only everything I’ve done and learned about but also how I have changed as well.  I feel as though an appreciation for human beings’ relationship and interaction with the water around them has now fully realized itself within me; I know that I was cognizant of this relationship before being an Earth Lodger, but now I think I truly understand its importance.  Delving deep into the study of one river, the James, and the people who call its watershed home was integral, I think, in fostering the appreciation that I have now.  I’ll certainly miss being in Earth Lodge.  I’ll miss being part of this group, where each member’s insight, through this blog, was as much a part of the learning experience as the lectures in class and the field trips outside of class.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Earth Lodge, and I’m truly grateful for all of the experiences I have had while being a part of this awesome group of people.

Looking back on class experiences, one of the most memorable to me would be meeting Ralph White and listening to him talk about the river that he obviously loves very much and fought very hard to protect during his stay as the head of the James River Park System.  His wisdom, commanding voice, and passion for the protection of the James and its history were truly awe-inspiring.  He had us totally captivated and enthralled during our entire walk down to the heron rookery near Mayo Bridge.  Walking on that sewage pipeline to see the herons more up close illustrated the connectivity between the city of Richmond, the water of the James, and the wildlife that lives right in the midst of it.  The fact that there is a sort of “trail” in the James River Park System located directly on a sewage pipe is a testament to how something with at least a semblance of “naturalness” can be made out of something seemingly nature-killing: a mechanical vein of the city.  That experience certainly had a big effect on me, and I was very excited when I found out that I would be able to volunteer with Ralph White at Mayo Bridge, cleaning up graffiti and homeless encampments.  I know many other lodgers felt the same way I did about Ralph White, and that he had as profound an impact on them as an environmental leader.

I also look back on the time we spent in class learning about riparian buffer areas, and the important role they play for the health of the James and the surrounding floodplain.  The discussion of these buffer areas in relation to the idea of connectivity emphasized throughout the entire course was very interesting, especially when we got into the effects that human beings can have on these riparian areas.  Human beings can disrupt connectivity between river and the surrounding land through development, replacing penetrable soil with hard, solid concrete.  But, in our discussions of urban parks and the visit of Michelle Kokolis, we learned that a lot can be done to restore this connectivity.  Having Michelle give her lecture in class after already being familiar with the James River report card she gave us a better understanding of the problems that have been plaguing the James, and how a restoration of riparian buffers could go a long way in helping to fix these problems.  What I thought was especially helpful for getting people educated about the way their actions affect the James was the online tool Michelle showed us, showing how much runoff was flowing from where we lived and what path it took to reach the James.  Tools like this, meant to educate people about their relationship to their watershed, have the potential to be extremely effective at reducing nutrient runoff, a major problem for the ecological health of the James.  As we found our own campus on the map, and traced our water to the James, I couldn’t help but think of ways for the University of Richmond to decrease the amount of runoff coming off of its impenetrable surfaces.

Keeping in mind the information on the river report card for the James, I was curious about what the water quality was like on the middle James during our canoe trip.  Where we canoed was quite a long ways from the heart of Richmond, but it was also downstream.  When we took our own water quality tests, I tried to equate their results to the grade that the James received on the river report card.  Granted, our tests were taken up a creek and quite a ways from the center of Richmond, and the riparian buffers were well intact where we were canoeing.

In my reflection blog posts, I chronicled the life returning to our Little Westham Creek watershed.  While we were canoeing, I could also see the life nearly fully returned on the banks of the James as well.  Leaves have returned to the trees, (which will no doubt help in identifying them later), and the air is filled with pollen, (not so good for me, but good for the trees).  As the semester comes to a close, I think back on all of the experiences I’ve had in Earth Lodge; I can say wholeheartedly that being in Earth Lodge was one of my most important experiences so far in college, and the appreciation for my relationship to the water around me will stick with me for the rest of my life.

This Saturday my friend visited from DC. As she is a passionate environmentalist and outdoorswoman, I was pleased the weather was cooperating in my plan to show off my city. Maybe it was the debate from class, but I felt a strange need to flaunt the James River Park System; the first indicator of how much my attachment and pride for Richmond has grown since she last visited a year ago. We walked to Pony Pasture. On the way we passed me and Jenni’s community garden plot on the Gamble Mill’s Trail, saw a snake swimming downstream from the Huguenot Bridge, and watched a group of kids pull an eel out of the water that was longer than my arm. As we wound our way down Riverside Drive, Kate kept commenting on the interconnectivity of the neighborhoods and the river; I think I realized for the first time how unique our city truly is.

In our debate I kept arguing that the James is representative of a fall zone because it runs through the middle of downtown Richmond. As Kate and I drove from Bikram on the other side of the river back to campus, then from the park to dinner in Carytown, I came to recognize the way my life in Richmond literally straddles the river. One really can walk from their front porch to the river, and as I’ve began to learn, everyone who claims to be a “true Richmonder” seems to have their own secret spot along the James to call their own. Last week I spent the night at my friend Amy’s. We woke up early and biked to Texas Beach before my 9am. We sat on a footbridge overlooking the canal and train tracks, the lush grasses below swaying in a current straight from UofR. I remember the first time I visited Belle Isle someone told me it is the best place to go if you want to see the demographics of RVA. Along the shore are the river rats that populate this city: from the aged fisherman to their grandchildren, the tourists and the first timers, each eddy-creating rock islands a human visitor. The various small parks scattered throughout the city feel like the hole-in-the-wall restaurants throughout the Fan; instead of Kaplan’s ideal of holding a sense of “away-ness”, they seem to sit firmly within our conception of our city and daily activity. It’s hard to perceive a wilderness/civilization duality when a river winds its way through our lives.

I think the seamless connectivity found in Richmond can undeniably be accredited to the leadership of Ralph White. Of course the river gets the real credit, but something about the rarity of Pipeline Park’s sliver of a presence along the Heron Rookery is magical. The park system really feels like our park system, and at times the units don’t even feel like parks at all; they’re just part of the city. When we bolted across 14^th Street and slipped down a ladder to see the Heron Rookery, I remember feeling like I was seeing the undiscovered parts of RVA. Yet it only took a little looking around to realize we were under train tracks, fifty feet from sky scrapers and constantly being passed by punk kids, moms and reporters alike.

Although we have the privilege of such unequivocal connectivity, as Dr. Forsyth’s study showed, it’s hard for people to feel compelled to protect their watersheds if they’re not even aware they live in one. Before this course I had never heard the term “watershed” (or catchment, although I had heard basin without really knowing what it meant). The entire walk to Pony Pasture I was eagerly shouting out tree species and concepts from class, much to the esteem of my friend. When we got to the park, I was proud to see benches lining the river with plaques signed “Outdoor House”. I realized that having the river and the parks there is the start, but to actually understand the river’s beauty and problems requires more.

The James River Association’s report card provided me with a thorough understanding of the river, but for those who don’t seek it out, how do they find information? The answer: places like Earth Lodge. Our class is not solely about learning, it is a class that breeds environmental leaders. All of our final projects are based upon improving the connectivity our city has with its river. Through the almost libertarian (shall I dare label it?) approach of Ralph White, groups like Earth Lodge are able to make infrastructural improvements (such as shuttles literally taking people to the river or educational signs explaining campus’ relationship with its watershed). Without such, we cannot expect people to be informed, or for change to occur.

I am excited to leave Earth Lodge with a summer in Richmond ahead of me. Sharing a place with Jenni, Taylor and Thomas, I am certain we’ll find endless ways to apply our learning to our first apartment. Passing the community garden I could not help but notice its lack of rain barrels; as I sat on the banks of Pony Pasture I imagined every passing log as a sturgeon or manatee; and as we left, a decaying branch of a Sycamore was sprouting a new sapling.

Wildness reminds us what it means to be human, what we are connected to rather than what we are separate from.” – Terry Williams

From the first day we spent together in the classroom, one of the main themes we have discussed and experienced first hand through various field trips, guest lectures, and our own personal reflections, is the concept of connectivity. We spent the first lecture in class talking about the ideas of place and region, and jumped right into the definitions and meanings of a watershed. During these lectures and discussions, I was particularly drawn to the idea that watersheds vary in size, and can be as localized as the bathtub in your bathroom, or as vast as the oceans. But what was most interesting to me was learning about how watersheds are a way for us to both define boundaries, and understand how connected this campus, this city, this state, this country, and so on, are with each other. For instance, before this course, I never really thought about where the water in the Westhampton Lake came from, or where the water in the lake drains to, and this was a common thought throughout our class as seen in the majority of our first blog posts. In Geography of the James River Watershed, we not only have learned the facts about the hydrologic cycle, riparian zones, conservation buffers, and so on, but we have gained a better understanding of how all of these elements are connected, and how they add to the ecological health and success of watersheds, and natural habitats in general.

Looking over my past few blog post entries, I can easily see how the themes of my posts relate to this idea of connectivity. In my last reflection post (Spring has Come), I commented about the area where the small creek feeds into the lake and the houses that are perched on the upslope of the hill meet, and how that strongly resembles the riparian zones that we talked extensively about in class. I could imagine the runoff of water coming down the hill during times of heavy rain and during storms, and how this area of sand, rocks, and trees can act as a buffer in its ability to help filter some of the waste and substances that are picked up along the way during a storm. A similar theme was also prevalent in my first blog post (Lake Walk) at the beginning of the year, when I reflected on the fact that I had never actually ventured to the point past K lot where the small stream flows into the lake, even though I have been living on this campus for three semesters. I was able to appreciate how our campus is much more connected to the nearby neighborhoods and the city of Richmond than I previously thought.

My second to last post (Volunteering on the James) this year was about my experiences volunteering with Ralph White near the section of the James River by the 14^th street bridge. A group of lodgers and I spent the afternoon picking up garbage and cleaning a small island on the James that also acted as a homeless camp. While we were clearing the island of trash and debris, Ralph and a couple of local boaters talked to us about the uniqueness of the James and what it means and represents for the city. Ralph explained that the James has the power to bring people of all age, race, gender, and social class together, simply for the enjoyment of the water, and that by keeping the river healthy and accessible to everyone, it can continue in this tradition and bring about even more enjoyment for future generations. Ralph was saying that the river is a way for everyone in the city to connect with each other and share what is has to offer. The James is a great resource that allows locals to connect with nature, and temporarily “get away,” even in a bustling city environment such as Richmond. A similar concept is seen in Thomas Perry’s post (Reflection 2) when he talks about his reflection spot near the Frisbee golf course, and how the course resembles the James River Park system in that it allows golfers to enjoy the nature and small patch of woods that we are lucky to have on campus, and connect with their environment. This concept of “being away,” but at the same time staying connected with your environment also brought me back to the articles we read regarding designing small parks. In this article, we learned about some of the benefits of small parks, especially in urban environments, such as the protection of some types of species of plants and animals, and how small parks can act as “stepping stones” for species dispersal.

My last blog post (William Byrd Center Volunteering) was about my experiences volunteering for the William Byrd Community Center’s urban farmlet, where a few lodgers and I helped set up composting bins, spent time weeding invasive grass species, and prepared gardens for the springtime. I was immediately inspired when I discovered that the William Byrd Center put on a farmers market in the summertime once a week, and how they help out low-income families and allow the use of food stamps at their market so that these families can have access to fresh produce and can eat healthy foods. This farmers market, which is run by volunteers, is a great example of how the William Byrd Center is reaching out to the community and providing more of a connection throughout the city by allowing people to take advantage of this urban farmlet.

Another interesting way the concept of connectivity presented itself in our classroom was the guest lecture by Jakob Helmboldt, the bicycle and trails coordinator for the city of Richmond. His proposed plans on making the city of Richmond a more bike-friendly city would allow for more connections throughout the city, because it would allow more inhabitants of Richmond an easier and more affordable way to travel throughout the city. Not only would it be safer and more cost effective if more and more people would ride their bikes to work everyday, but it would also be extremely healthy for the environment. I would bet that if there were more bike trails surrounding our campus to areas of Richmond such as downtown and the James River, students and members of the community alike would surely take advantage of those resources, which would provide more connections throughout the city.

In order to help promote awareness and connectivity throughout our campus, my group for the Earth Lodge final project (Kenta, Taylor, Lauren, and I) are designing interpretive signs to be placed around the lake which will provide information about tree species on campus, the species of fauna found around areas of the lake, and information about the watershed of the Westhampton Lake. We are hoping that the implementation of these signs will increase the students, the faculty, and visitors awareness and understanding of what is around them as they walk through campus, and will hopefully serve as a way to better educate everyone about their immediate environment, which according to Dr. Forsythe, might help members of the school and the greater community to take better care of our campus, and want to get more actively involved in helping maintain the health of our campus.

I feel as though the concepts and skills that I have learned and gained in this course have carried over and will continue to influence my approach to many others aspects of my life. I strive to take more time to simply sit down, take in, and reflect upon what is around me, and question how certain elements of my environment are connected. I also have discovered a greater passion to go out into the community and learn first hand about my immediate environment and what I can do to make a greater positive impact through service. This course has given me a greater appreciation of how this campus, this community, and this city are all connected and part of a greater whole, and I hope to uncover more of these connections throughout the rest of my time here.

Stepping back onto campus after just one weekend away was like stepping onto a whole new world. This past Friday, before leaving for the Quidditch World Cup in Kissimmee Florida, campus had looked much the same as it had over the entirety of the semester; bleak and void of most signs of life. When I returned, however, it was as if spring had exploded out of nowhere. Flowers and green buds covered all the limbs of bushes and trees that had been barren not three days earlier, and there was an undeniable feeling in the air that said summer was just around the corner. The time I have spent in this class and outside of class doing work seems to have flown by in a largely undistinguishable blur of lectures, speakers, observation logs, service outings and trips to the river, but this recent change in the weather and campus flora seems to have brought everything to a sharper focus, and I can only imagine that everything will become even clearer as the semester winds down in the next couple of weeks.

I am certainly not the only one who has noticed the increasing signs of spring throughout the past several weeks. Nearly all fellow-lodgers have commented on the sunnier, warmer weather, the budding foliage and even the sudden appearance of bugs in their most recent blog posts. I guess the general consensus must be true: spring has arrived. Spring may be here, but I have to keep reminding myself that the presence of a few more colors than I am used to seeing does not mean that our campus was devoid of life until this point. Anne had a similar experience in one of her reflection posts about the budding of life, and wrote, “I appreciated the beauty of the campus and the lake in the fall and spring, but neglected to appreciate the natural beauty and resilience of this ecosystem in the winter”. It may not always be apparent to all of us, myself included, but the lake and its watershed are just as exciting and lively in the winter as they are in the spring, regardless of what our senses may tell us.

As I write this last, overarching reflection of the semester’s activities, I pause every couple of minutes or so to stare out across the lake from my position at a table outside of the commons. Seeing perhaps the most iconic natural vista of our campus laid out before my eyes in its full springtime glory somehow brings everything we’ve learned this semester into a sharper, more-connected focus. Not only is the lake a geographic center of our campus, but to many students, it is also a sort of psychological center as well. It ties various aspects of our social and academic lives together because we are constantly crossing over it or walking along its shores as we move about with our lives. Whether all students, faculty and staff realize it or not, the lake is an integral part of our lives and we would all be amiss without it. The lake connects each and every one of us, not only to each other, but to our watershed and to the natural world as well.

Many of my classmates’ reflection spots are situated at different points around the lake and it is easy to understand why. This relatively small body of water embodies all the themes we have been learning about in class, such as the importance of riparian buffers, connectivity, water quality, watershed health, and place awareness, and it does so in a way that is easily accessible and aesthetically pleasing. In fact, I think our lake is an ideal tool for teaching people about the importance of watershed health because it already draws people to its banks for so many other reasons. Taylor, Kenta, Lauren and Bill have already realized and taken advantage of this fact by deciding to place signs around the lake, educating its visitors about the flora and fauna, and I am extremely excited to see these in place when I return to campus in the fall.

After pausing again to survey the slowly rippling waters in front of me, I am reminded suddenly of the service work our class did recently at the James and at the William Byrd Community House. While the work we did at these locations was undeniably useful, I cannot help but think that it might have been more effective and more beneficial to our immediate community, if we had done cleanups on campus instead. Yes, the University of Richmond has a facilities staff that works tirelessly to ensure that our campus remains pristine and aesthetically perfect 24/7, but shouldn’t we, as individuals, feel a need to make our home a better place? Wouldn’t cleanups at the lake, for example, increase place awareness in students at the University of Richmond and cause people to start caring more about their watershed? The James is just outside of our campus boundaries, but given the confusing spider-web of neighborhoods and constantly bustling roads, it might as well be miles away. Our campus truly is a bubble for many people and a large number of students do not feel any connection to the river, despite the fact that it is so very close. The lake, unlike the river, is a commonality and constant presence for everyone on campus. Perhaps it might be worth considering making the lake a bigger part of the Earth Lodge class in the future, so that we can promote its ecological importance to the rest of the school.

It may have only been recently that I truly came to realize the importance of the lake as an aspect of our community, but I would not have come to this realization had it not been for what we learned in class all semester and for the series of blog posts that allowed me to steadily and consistently record my thoughts. As I looked back at the posts before writing this final piece, I noticed not necessarily how my writing style or ideas had evolved over time, but how each piece fit together to make a more complete experience. The hands-on learning from our trips and service work combined with the information from our lectures always came into a clearer focus after I had the chance to reflect on them in a blog post, and looking back over all of the logs from the semester just brought everything together in as succinct a manner as I can imagine.