This semester has truly been a whirlwind of discovery and shifting perspectives. It began with the unearthing of Little Westham Creek, then continued to delve deeper beneath the surface. I was introduced to watersheds and buffers, and even had the chance to interact with Andrew McBride, the University Architect, who is responsible for the implementation of almost everything on campus including buffers. Previously when I saw a tree or a bush, I saw only a plant, put in its respective location solely for aesthetic purposes. Now that gap between naturally and purposefully placed vegetation was less clear. Was a plant occupying this space because it was in its natural habitat or was it placed there to fulfill a specific purpose with regards to protecting soil, air, or water quality? In contrast, I also had the chance to see beautiful works of art molded by the raw power of nature. In addition, I learned to see the wilderness in a new light. Rather than a specific location, or terrain type, wilderness can be thought of as a state of mind, something that is imposed on landscapes we believe to hold wilderness-like qualities. Finally, I found myself reflecting on what it meant to label a place as “home.” What does home mean to me? How is it linked to my perception of wilderness?
My perception of home shifted with the discovery of Little Westham Creek. (ref my blog post)Based on blog posts, such as Kevin Alloway’s, A Secret Stream I’m sure others were shocked upon uncovering this feature. When people speak of their home, they speak of a place they love and are comfortable with; above all, they speak of a place they know well. At this point in my college career I undoubtedly considered Richmond my home; therefore, upon the discovery of the creek, I was almost ashamed I had not known about its existence. My ignorance led me to believe I had no right to call Richmond my home.
I foolishly believed that after spending a meager year at Richmond I was quite familiar with it. Among my friends and family at home (Fairfield, CT) I was even considered an expert. When I thought about how I acquired my self-proclaimed knowledge, it seems quite silly that they would consider me a subject of authority. The process of familiarizing myself with Richmond started my junior year of high school. Prior to applying I gained a basic knowledge of the city area, and campus itself (the James River was a major selling point!) Once I was accepted I researched more, almost obsessively. I wanted to know everything there was to know about this place. Looking back this makes sense because people have a natural tendency to be familiar with the area they are/will be living in. When I finally arrived at Richmond I was able to explore some “major” landmarks firsthand, such as Pony Pasture, Belle Isle, and Carry Town.
Yet, I have humbly realized that while I have amassed a certain degree of knowledge about this place I call home, I have only just brushed the surface. Yes I can tell you my favorite restaurant or how to drive to the river, yet previously I would not have been able to direct you to a small creek that is literally minutes from my dorm. I would not have been able to tell you that the University of Richmond campus is part of the Little Westham Creek water shed, which is part of the larger Middle James River watershed, which in turn is part of the Chesapeake Bay watershed. I have truly been blind to an entire world, and the means by which it is constructed and operates. For instance, I was never aware that buffer selection and placement was truly a science.
I never realized how much thought went into creating a place. Yet, I suppose that is the point, to take something that requires the integration of multiple variables and create what we perceive to be a simple garden. The seemingly effortless placement of shrubs could, in reality, have been meticulously planned to perform a variety of functions including, to reduce erosion and runoff of sediments, as well as to remove pollutants and nutrients from the water. Furthermore, several factors go in to choosing the right buffer such as width, terrain, buffer area ratio, slope and soil type. For instance, the new landscaping outside the library was designed to soak up high amounts of water to prevent erosion.
We also had the opportunity to meet with Andrew McBride, the University of Richmond Architect who helped implement these designs. Every campus addition or alteration is carefully thought out. Energy expenditure, format, target group, and availability of space are factors master plan committee members must address. This enables the University of Richmond to not only be a physical place, but to also be a genuine community.
Many objects are placed with thought and meaning intricately hidden in their seemingly simplistic designs. Paradoxically many impossibly complicated designs are the result of raw nature, and a little luck. I’ve encountered unbelievable sights such as the delicate icicles at the James River in the wake of powerful flooding, (ref. my blog post) and the geometric ice patterns found on Westhampton Lake. (ref. my blog post) These occurrences can be summed up in one word, wild.
While there is no doubt they are wild, it is undeniable that they are in the midst of human civilization. The James is a thriving social spot, and the Westhampton Lake is in the middle of our college campus! So then, how is it possible these sights and places can truly be “wild?”
Cronnan attempts to reconcile these clashing views of wilderness and civilization in his essay, The Trouble with Wilderness. He explains that rather than being completely and utterly removed from humanity, wilderness is in fact created by humanity. It is not a set place; rather it is a state of mind people project onto their surroundings. He further articulates,
“A person with a clear heart and open mind can experience the wilderness anywhere on earth. It is a quality of one’s own consciousness. The planet is a wild place and always will be. To think ourselves capable of causing “the end of nature” is an act of great hubris, for it means forgetting the wildness that dwells everywhere within and around us” (Cronnan, 43).
If wilderness is simply a state of mind, it has the potential to be present anywhere. We don’t need to go to vast majestic places to see wonder, we can glimpse wonder in our own backyards (or campus). In her blog post, The Gazebo, Abby explains how she is able to feel connected to nature at the Gazebo on campus. While this is clearly a manmade structure, when sitting inside you cannot help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace and greater connection to the outdoors. In her blog post, A Walk By the Lake, Jules talks about the many facets of the lake, and how the act of simply lying on your back against the bricks at night has the ability to transform this ordinary lake into an incredible phenomena.
I had a similar experience after returning from our fall break trip. On the trip we had the chance to see a giant loblolly pine. This was the largest tree I had ever seen, and it was incredible. Yet, as we were driving into campus I was suddenly aware of loblollies all around me. It was amazing. I had driven the drive into campus countless times, yet it was like I was seeing the loblollies for the first time, and in a sense I was. Before, they were simply trees, now they were still trees, but they meant something more because I could connect them to the giant pine I saw. Walking around campus I experienced the same set of euphoria. Loblollies were everywhere, and I was in awe. I was seeing UR from a new lens and I was proud I knew a little more about my campus.
A mixture of scrupulous planning and inherent physical qualities coalesce to form this place we call home. The adjective we use to describe this place is merely a state of mind, a projection of our ordered thoughts onto a disordered world. Home, like wilderness is dynamic. It is constantly adapting to adhere to our evolving perspective. Today my home is Fairfield CT, some days it is the University of Richmond. Other times it is lakeview, additional times it is simply the beach.
Home, like the wilderness is something that will always be. They are intricately linked with human kind, yet at the same time completely transcendent.