Geography of the James (Earth Lodge)

These last few days have been absolutely magical on our campus. With all of these amazing trees we now know the names of blooming, and the year winding down, it feels like everything is in its place. I know it has been mentioned quite a bit in previous posts, but it really has made a huge difference to know the names of every tree at the University. Granted, it was kind of a pain in the butt to learn them, but it was so worth it. Education enriches everything around you, and knowledge about trees is no different. It is just a further broadening of our horizons into the natural areas of life, and is a wonderful exploration. Spring will never be viewed the same by Earth Lodge on this campus ever again. Knowing what we do about our riparian area, the trees around us, the larger watershed, and what is going on in our surrounding environments creates a consciousness that adds a sweetness to life, like when you drink licorice tea and it leaves a little gift of a tingly sweet aftertaste in your mouth. Delicious.
My reflection spot has grown increasingly beautiful as the semester has waned. It is almost astonishing this process that happens- somehow just two weeks ago, spring was barely upon us. And now, the whole world has come to life! And yes, just as I expected in my previous post, a bunch of new couples holding hands and being cute have emerged around campus. It is so predictable but still really wonderful. The only thing that I can manage to think I’d shake my fist at would be the constant itch of an eye tormented by pollenation.And still, that can’t truly get me down. As I sit, my thoughts go from trees, to couples, to this year. I have begun to realize how different my year would have been if I had not had Earth Lodgers to stand shoulder to shoulder with, fearlessly taking it on. Y’all prevented this famed “sophomore slump” for me, and I hope that I have done the same for you. When I look back on my year, you guys are the ones who make me smile, who I go to just to talk or lean on, and without y’all 15 steps away, this year would have been a helluva lot more difficult to take on. Thanks, guys 🙂

I often question if I am ever going to use the knowledge I learned from my classes in real life. What does partial derivatives, Heaviside-Lorentz functions, or homogenous matrices have to do with anything in life after college? This question pops up in my mind every once in a while but I have been choosing to ignore it. I’ve always been strictly separating nature and science, for some reason I believed that knowing the science behind things ruins the nature of it. Yesterday afternoon over my visit to my reflection spot, I had a few new thoughts about science in real life.

It was a sunny spring afternoon, everything was warm and lazy. I found a grassy area to sit near my reflection spot; I did not notice anything special. I looked up into the blue sky for a while and it made me very happy. Beneath the sky, a few loblolly branches caught my attention. I looked back and found all these trees, “that’s a loblolly”, “that’s a shortleaf pine”, “that’s dogwood… wait is it?” I said to myself. I walked up to the trees unconsciously so I could take a closer look at the leafs and tried to see if I could identify them. After I successfully named all the trees in the area, including the ones that were not on the exam, I felt very accomplished. I went and sat down again, I realized that a few weeks ago I was complaining about having to remember these tree names. I thought that as long as we know trees are good for the environment and looks good around neighborhoods, there’s absolutely no need to know their names. I was wrong. The fact that I was able to identify the trees, know what habitat they live in, how and why they are shaped the way they are gives me so much information about the surrounding environment.  As I was going into deeper thought about these trees, I took another look around; everything became so special and interesting: the pollen floating on water has to do with the surface density of the water which I learned about in Math class; there are atoms vibrating in the air that keeps the world running (statistical mechanics!); there are trillions of photons from the sunlight passing through our bodies every millisecond, and then human’s complex nerve system transfer signals to human brains that the weather is warm, I learned this in my physics class.   I’ve been telling myself to separate science with nature, but now I feel like I’ve been missing out a whole lot. The fact that I understood how all these nature parts have come together made nature more magical to me. Science doesn’t destroy nature’s beauty; it actually enhances the beauty of nature and makes me appreciate the beauty of nature more. After this realization, I took a walk around my reflection spot and had many more fascinating discoveries. However, I also found many things that I cannot explain.

 There is a time in every person’s childhood when they start asking all kinds of question about the things around them, but then there is also a time when most people realize the world is too big and too complicated for them to understand; so they just kick back and accept whatever is around them. I unfortunately fall into the “kick back and accept” category and blinded myself with ignorance. After my visit to the reflection spot, I decided to start taking baby steps to appreciate nature more; my very first step is to ask more questions. I learned that nature is closely related to science and science is the only enhancer for the appreciation of nature.

Last weekend was a vacation for me. Simply put, it was freaking fantastic. When I leave University of Richmond for any length of time, it can sometimes feel like a vacation for a number of reasons- mainly the chaos and time crunch that the Richmond Bubble brings out in every day life. I haven’t been home yet this semester so, aside from spring break, last weekend was the closest thing I’ve had all semester to a peaceful and reflective time away from UR- even though it lasted less than 24 hours.

To be completely honest, all I could think about in the week prior to the trip was the drive. I love driving. It’s one of my favorite things to do. It gives me responsibility and purpose, even if just for a small period of time. If you think about it, driving a car full of passengers a long distance while flying down the highway at 80 miles per hour is pretty reckless; you’re basically driving a 2 ton bullet. If you think about it that way (like I do), the responsibility of the driver increases to infinite proportions. And I love that- there’s something about it that I thrive for and look forward to. It’s also a time where I can think clearly. Driving has always helped me get my thoughts in order, the physical sense of moving forward combined with me sorting out my feelings and mental storage closet go hand in hand and the job always gets done. It clears my head and puts a feeling of ‘new life’ on the horizon. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was looking forward to the drive more than the camping trip itself. I’m weird like that.

However, as it turns out, the camping trip was equally relaxing and reflective. Walking through the woods with a sense of actually staying in the woods brought a sense of excitement over me and all my little issues and thoughts turned to dust as I realized the larger context of the world around me. My thoughts were belittled and my mind was absent. I was only concerned with my surroundings and the people I shared them with; it was a vacation not only for my feet but also for my mind. It reminds me of how secluded we are on campus. Maybe that’s a good thing though- how incredible would last weekend have been if that was the world/environment that I spent all my time in? It would have had the opposite effect. Going back to the urban sprawl that is Richmond would have been the best thing EVER and an equally mind-altering experience. Balance is key. Right now, I like the balance we’ve struck. Production and craziness combined with short bursts of calm are par for the course if you ask me. I’m right where I need to be.

Once at my reflection spot, it is unusually difficult to free my mind of all the nonsense that is my life. Instead of attempting to clear my mind, I allow my thoughts to bubble about just like the rumble of the rapids in front of me. My mind is being mostly overtaken by thoughts about how this year is coming to a close in about three weeks. After that, I will be in Connecticut for a month and then I will take off to the other side of the world to the wonderful land of New Zealand.

Like all people studying abroad, I will be making new friends, trying new things, and essentially living a new life. There is no way I can be entirely prepared for that experience abroad, no matter how much research I do on the country or how much I plan ahead of time. One thing I can be sure of, however, is what I have to come back to.

Regardless of how much I will have changed or we all will have changed once we reunite next spring, we will all be back here in the same situation. We will either feel estranged from people whom we believe haven’t changed the way we did, or we will be reunited with friends that seem to be entirely different people. It will be a difficult and exciting time for everyone, but either way, I know that the bonds we have made as a group in Earth Lodge will remain. We all have lived on this wonderful hall all year long, bonding in ways that could never be recreated in another setting. We have learned about the history of our natural surroundings; all the while writing our own history together, the history of our lives in Earth Lodge: the question game, stargazing, Han’s laugh, eating passport, tree ID’s, lounge conversations, disagreements, book club, nonsense on field trips (I can keep going forever). Our history is like that of the James River, it will never happen again in the exact same way, but that is what makes the history so interesting and beautiful to remember. Like the history of the James, we will be able to use our history we made in our Earth Lodge community  to make a better world for the generations after us. With the history and information we learned about the James River, we are able to take the initiative to improve the river and the rest of the environment with our newfound knowledge and passion. Likewise, we will use our friendship to set an example of what the next Earth Lodgers could be, and we will use our experience to help them through our own process and make it better for them.

It is a scary thought that everything will be different in some way next year, but with our knowledge and unconditional bonds of friendship we have created within this living and learning group, we can harness the change as a form of beauty and growth for Earth Lodge instead of letting it break us apart. I love living with every single one of you, and I can’t wait to see what our friendships have in store for the future.

With that, I leave you with this quote by Chris McCandless. I have to admit, I am a fan.

“…make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. If you want to get more out of life, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life that will at first appear to you to be crazy. But once you become accustomed to such a life you will see its full meaning and its incredible beauty.”

Well this is the last official blog visit to my reflection spot at the Gambles Mill Trail. I thought spring had come the last time I visited the trail, but I was definitely wrong. The winter was just in its last death throws as a few days later it snowed. What happened to the tadpoles I found in the stream that day did they die from dropping water temperatures? What about the fish? That’s what was on my mind as I headed to my spot. Something was wrong…well I guess just pleasantly surprised. The woods’ leafy forest floor was obscured with fresh growth. It was much more difficult to move through as new vines and branches clogged my former pathways. Everything plant seemed to have leaves of three and I was definitely paranoid as I moved into the woods. It did not help that I only wore a gym shorts and a t-shirt and I happened brush past every kind of plant in the woods. Also have you seen Mark’s face?! Enough said.
The fish I was worried about beforehand still frantically swam in the pools of the rivulet. However, there were no tadpoles. Then I saw a splash out of the corner of my eye. All I can do is hope it was a frog that made that splash. Afterward I peered into that old well I found on my first trip to the Gambles Mill Trail. The moss and vines that dominated the well seemed dried and shriveled with numerous other plants moving in obscuring it from view. As I sat by the water, where once a gyre of foam once swirled I noticed I was not the only one to spend time on that small bank. Two small paw prints were pressed into the sand. My best guess was that it was a raccoon. At least some other creature ventures into the depths of the woods.
When I looked around I noticed a new wetland area had formed and decided to explore. Then there was another splash into the water, but still I did not get a glimpse of the animal that fled. At the waters edge laid another footprint, which was definitely from a deer. Visiting the trail today indicated other mammals other than squirrels frequented the woods. It made me wonder how often they make their way over to the trail. The trail is not easily accessible to humans or animals. The edge effects must be very great as it is engulfed by the country club, the University and the River Road. I wonder if the deer had come to graze on an endless supply of fresh, crisp greenery and maybe the raccoon were just scavenging for what ever it could find.
I think that I have a much different view of the Gambles Mill trail since my previous visits. What seemed to be an originally lifeless place seemed to have come alive in the past month. Although this is the last time I have to write about my reflection spot I hope to frequent the trail this summer. I wonder how the plants in the area will respond to the higher temperatures and if the young plants I see now will be replaced like the ones I saw in the well today.

So I could not have asked for a better day to visit my reflection spot. The sun was shining, the weather warm- for lack of a better word the stream looked “happy”. It was so nice out in fact that I decided to go for a swim, unintentionally of course. Inspired by the weather, instead of sitting in one spot and reflecting I decided to be a little bit more adventurous.

Jumping from rock to rock (yes I did slip and fall in at one point) a reached a point that was difficult to cross. Bracing myself on a tree, I suddenly realized I was holding on to what felt like a small group of thin hairs. For those of you who don’t already know, I have recently suffered a severe allergic reaction to poison ivy. While on the most recent Earth Lodge camping trip to Flattop Mountain, I woke up one morning with my left eye swollen shut. So naturally, when I felt these thin hairs indicative of poison ivy, my heart skipped a beat. However, my immediate second thought was, “Ahh it’s already bad enough and I’m on meds- how much worse can it get?” so I carried on. Peering upstream, I noticed that the riffles seemed to go on endlessly. So I decided that today I would see how far up I could go. Along the way I made several observations about the stream, now informed with a wealth of Earth Lodge knowledge I lacked the last time I visited this site.

The first thing I noticed was how much this creek was a classic riparian zone. With a bank sloping down from private property on one side and a collection of rocks, sand, and trees on the other, I could not help but think about how this stream must experience the phenomena that we’ve discussed in class. By gravity alone the storm water runoff coming down from the private homes above empties into the stream. With its banks relatively well kept, likely as a result of the “Community Stream Project” of 2006 that I mentioned in my first reflection spot blog, I imagine that this zone acts as an effective filter for substances such as nitrogen. I cannot back up this claim with actual data as the nitrate test I used last semester for Ecology was not specific enough, but I did measure the lowest levels of fecal coliform bacteria at this site of any that I tested, so maybe that is saying something. Looking out from the stream’s bank in different direction I saw another sign of urbanization- the University of Richmond Robin’s Basketball Stadium. I couldn’t help but wonder what effect we as a university have on this small creek, even if it is somewhat hidden from the view of the average U of R student walking to and from the gym. Finally, the last pieces of information from class that I noticed manifesting itself at the creek were the species of trees and plants along its banks. I’ve already mentioned the poison ivy, but I also found several river birch, sycamore, and tulip poplar trees, along with more than a couple wild grape vines.

Before leaving there was one last thing I had to do. Along the stream I had noticed a gradual buildup of trash. Plastic bottles, beer cans, children’s toys- you name it, and it was there. Cursing myself under my breath for forgetting to bring a garbage bag (and trying not to think about how disappointed my roommate would be- see his inspiring GMT trash clean-up blog here: http://blog.richmond.edu/james/2012/01/26/my-special-place/) I gathered up all of the junk I could fit in my arms. After depositing the trash in one of the cans of the first house along the stream, I turned back to take one more look at the creek. Stunned that I missed it before, a bright pink ball floating in the water suddenly caught my eye. As I trekked back down to the water’s edge and got a closer look I saw that the ball said, “MEGHAN”. Now to me this was a lose-lose situation. This poor girl Meghan lost her ball, and this poor stream has now become its unthankful home. Without any more thought I grabbed the ball and started on my way back to campus, hoping that I’d run into a Meghan along the way. In X lot I passed by a family of three including a mother, a little boy in a stroller, and a beautiful little blonde girl. I couldn’t help but ask the mother, somewhat awkwardly I must admit, “Is her name Meghan by any chance?”

“No, I’m sorry it’s not”

“Oh, well do you think she would like this ball anyway? It says Meghan but I guess you can always cross that out”

“Yeah sure thanks! And her name is Camille by the way.”

Ok so it wasn’t Meghan, but in my mind Camille is close enough. As I walked back to Lakeview I began to think more about the relationships we have with our waterways. About how I never realized how important riparian zones are to water quality. About how many lose-lose situations there are when it comes to our streams, lakes, and rivers. Yet, as corny as it sounds, I realized that there is hope. Just as this class as done for me, I thought about how increased education and awareness about how we affect our waterways and how our waterways effect us can inspire true change. So, although this will be my last official “reflection spot” visit to this stream, I know that I will carry with me the lessons I’ve learned along its banks. And hopefully one day when I get back from abroad I can revisit it (and remember a bag) to see it still shining as what I find to be one of the most beautiful, natural places around our campus.

So my 10:30 class was canceled today. Instead of sleeping in, I decided to watch those less fortunate souls meander their way to class as I just sat on the grass in the Jepson quad. Part of the reason I chose this spot is because it is a prominent social hub on campus, and I love to people watch. Ask any of my suite mates and you’ll know that I’m an anthropocentric kinda guy. Today I was observing the wild Richmond Student in their natural habitat on their way to class. Things played out more or less as I had expected.

At 10:15 there were a few early birds that trickled into class early, then between 10:20 and 10:30 students surged into Jepson and Ryland, and after that a few stragglers stumbled their way through the wooden doors. It was surprisingly obvious to see who had just woken up. Furthermore it was even more surprising to see who was worried about being late for class and who wasn’t.

People are rarely conscious of the kind of vibe they give off with their body language, but it’s readily noticeable to those observing them. Some students were frantically speed walking to class, all disheveled. Others California-walked into class, savoring the last few bites of their breakfast sandwich from Tyler’s. I could even tell who was having a good or bad day based on the way they carried themselves. You can observe some pretty cool things when you open your eyes and see the world.

Which brings me to the number one thing that bothered me about this 10:30 rush on Jepson quad: people were not looking around. I’d say that the vast, vast majority of students were looking at the ground, eyes fixated on the bricks they walked on, as if they might suddenly disappear or prop up and try and trip them. Most of the remainder had their eyes fixated on their destination and B-lined it to the door. Did they even notice me sitting on the grass? I have my doubts, eye contact was rarely made. Maybe I’m insignificant in comparison to their day’s plans, or maybe these students felt embarrassed for me and didn’t want to acknowledge the awkward dude sitting there twiddling his thumbs.

Or maybe they were just oblivious to the world around them.

And if this is the case, I think that’s kind of sad. Right? I mean this was a beautiful day. The sun was up, the air was fine, flowers were blooming, even some birds were chirping. But seriously, when have the birds ever stopped chirping over the past few weeks. It is the grand simplicity of it all which went thoroughly unnoticed by these dedicated students.

This connects back to the idea of place, and how well we know ours. Which turns out isn’t very much. A large amount of city residents don’t know about which watershed their in or where their water will eventually dump, which all seems kind of obvious to me after having spent some time in this class, but it’s true, if you aren’t looking for it you won’t see it. Well, that’s not entirely true but you get the idea.

There was an article that centered on some world-class violinist that went ignored by the masses in a New York subway as the populous commuted to work. I experienced some of that today in Richmond watching students to go class.

How much do we miss when we’re not looking? I’d gander more than we’re willing to admit.

So pick your heads up, Sheeple! It’s a beautiful day, it’s a beautiful life, and I’m feeling swell.

As I return to my reflection spot one final time, I am able to notice a bigger difference in what I see and hear around me than any other time I have visited. The trees (which I can now identify by name) are either budding or completely covered in soft, baby green leaves. The birds around me are chirping away, except for the mourning dove who sings her sad song- coo-OO-ooh, ooh ooh. Perhaps I’ll move onto identifying the birds around me next. I have found that since I have become familiar with the personalities of many of the trees on campus—from the majestic beauty of the Dawn Redwood, to the stately and upright Loblolly Pine, to the delicate and cheerful Dogwood—I have become more observant and perceptive of what is around me. Identifying what is familiar has allowed me to recognize what I have yet to learn.

In the past few weeks, I have decided that spring is my new favorite season, at least in Richmond. In Morgantown where I’m from, spring only differs from winter in its shade of grey. Sloppy, melting snow makes the ground soggy and cold for much of the spring months. The trees and birds don’t usually awaken until mid-May with only a few weeks to go before the summer solstice heralds in the first day of the new season. But in Richmond, my eyes have been opened to the wonders of the spring season, which I am joyfully witnessing from my perch by the fountain in my reflection spot. To wrap this blog up, I will leave you with an appropriate quote from Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek: “These are our few live seasons. Let us live them as purely as we can, in the present.”

As I walked up next to the gigantic tree I thought to myself this will be my last time coming here to my reflection spot but then I quickly realized, NO, this is just the beginning of many more visits to this spectacular spot.  I will be climbing up this tree many times when I need to get away from the stresses of day to day life.  Each time I climb this tree, I am able to escape into pure happiness. 

This third time climbing up into the tree was different.  I was not having a stressful day, I was not worried about exams, and it was the most beautiful day outside.  Not only were my emotions coming into this different, but my knowledge of my surroundings coming into this was different also.  I found myself walking slowly down to the tree so that I could look up into the sky and try to identify the trees I passed by.  I now find myself doing the same thing around campus also.  Even during my reflection time I found myself just looking high above everything else to glance at the other huge trees all around.  I would observe their leaves and bark and try to discern what else was around me that I had been missing out on all those earlier times.  Climbing up in the tree the two previous times was a wonderful time for me.  Both times allowed me to escape from the worries I had from that day but I almost used nature to hide.  This time I used nature to just be free. 

After I was up in the tree for awhile I realized I did not even think about the challenge I made for myself on that first day: trying to get higher and higher each time I returned.  I was no longer worried about this challenge, it was no longer important.  What was important was smiling, enjoying myself, and truly seeing my surroundings. 

Looking out and seeing all of the different plants surrounding this great tree that I am in made me realize there are still so many types of vegetation I still do not know.  My learning is not over; on the contrary it has just begun just like my time up in this huge tree with smooth sleek leaves and white flowers.

For our midterm, we were assigned 25 species of trees to learn to identify.  We were each given a list of clues and directed to a cache of manuals and books on that often-neglected shelf in the corner of the fourth floor lounge.  At the end of each day leading up to the exam, we descended the spiral steps to wander under the heavy perfumes of the humid evenings and acquainted ourselves with the trees.  By the time Thursday rolled around, we had examined enough bark, deciphered the developing growth of enough buds, and collected enough fallen leaves to be able to call all 25 by name.

I’ve genuinely enjoyed this spring more than any I can remember, and I think it’s largely because I’ve begun observing the trees as I walk around campus.  By simply turning my gaze upward, the world revealed secrets that had until recently gone quite literally over my head.

It was easy to take note of this newfound habit of looking up while sitting in the sun today in my reflection spot and thinking back to my past meditations in this garden .  Before, my tendency was to bring myself as close to the earth as possible in order to study the minute workings of the understory, believing this to be my most richly accessible contact with the nuances of the natural world.  Today, I sat by the same pond inside the same brick walls but today I looked up.  I noticed the tiny, fuzzy buds that have only just begun to peek from tips of the smooth, brown branches and remembered the surprising speed with which these buds will soon burst into verdant foliage swirling in gusty April sunshine.  Looking up, I realized that there’s an entire skybound realm of the natural world which I’m only now learning to see with the same focus and appreciation as I’ve always devoted to the ground.  And because of this I’m glad.  I’m glad to be moving ever toward a more holistic conception of my place in this sphere.  There’s so much to see and so much to love–down, up, left, right, inside, and outside.

Andrew Bird – Hole in the Ocean Floor