Title: My Trip to Roemer Arboretum
An Afternoon in the ‘Real’ World…
Today wasn’t what I initially expected. I impulsively went to the airplane museum and to lay in the fields. I drove down the rocky dirt road that stretched out to the ongoing horizon. The trees, finally now in bloom, curled overtop, encomasping my car in a natural tunnel. I parked by the war planes from prior generations and set up camp underneath the biggest wing. I first laid on my blanket and ate Taco bell, (which is not the most natural of meals) but I digress. If I had to guess, the field stretches just shy of a mile long, which is pretty far when its a flat, unobstructed view. The sun was just about to set in the west, resting above the treetops. Its finally spring, and I can feel the world coming to life again. After a ‘nourishing’ meal I knew I was ready to tap into my inner Thoreau. I walked out a few yards, far enough to feel surrounded by open space. I laid on my back, and hushed the voice in my head freaking out about the grass in my hair and ants crawling up my ankle. I closed my eyes and clenched tufts of grass in my calloused hands. I took deep, intentional, breaths, until they slowed down just enough to be in sync with the rythym of the deafaning cicadas. It was in this very moment, when I let my mind, my skepticism and fear, quiet just enough to hear the beauty of the world around me, that sent icy shivers rushed down my spine- this is when I truly felt alive. I stayed in the moment for as long as I could, until the incessantly impatient tap of the ‘real world’ pulled me out of this nirvana state of mind. I am very thankful to have done this assignment, not only because it was fun, but because it made me engage with the world around me. At the end of the day, college should be about preparing us for the ‘real world’, and it doesn’t get more real than this!
Sunny Days Make Problems Disappear?
Hello!
First of all, I cannot seem to figure out how to get my image in here, as it says it is too big – I have tried reducing the size of it (similar to how we did so in class) and cannot seem to figure it out! That’s why I have a link attached to this post – let me know if it takes you to the image as it is supposed to!
Anyway, something which I have been talking about with my friends a lot is the way in which we all feel so much better at this time of year (particularly Daylight Saving Time, which was March 10 this year. Of course, there have been several studies on seasonal depression and other related mental illness which can be triggered and attributed to short and cold days. However, it always seems like such a surprise when the time of year rolls around and we all start to feel so much better, even if we don’t feel as though we were in a necessarily bad place in the winter time.
I think a lot of the reasoning behind this is that the sad, slow, cold, dark, monotonous winter (can you guess my least favorite season of the year?) slowly gets people to settle into a different lifestyle: one which exists mostly indoors, with nighttime routines taking place much sooner, and much less time spent with nature in general. I think this all happens so routinely and gradually that a lot of the time, we don’t even notice that it’s happening. I believe that this is telling not only of seasonal shifts in mood but with a lot of mental health ebbs and flows. It is hard to notice the sort of place I am in until I realize how much better I feel once I begin spending some more time outdoors and enjoying longer days.
Another thing which I have always associated with happier times and good weather is the migration of birds back into our area. Going outside and hearing birds chirping and feeling the sun on our faces is such a wonderful feeling every year, and usually leads me to realizing that my baseline mood for the winter is not the same as it is in the summer.
On popular social media apps such as TikTok and Instagram, there are trending “sounds,” or audios which people use on their videos of birds chirping. The videos under these sounds typically deal with nostalgic aspects of childhood, getting the viewer to reminisce about playing outdoors as a child. There seems to be a general link between birds and happiness, often accompanied with nostalgic undertones.
I find this very interesting, as I find myself reminiscing each year as the days get longer. In fact, one of the most surefire ways I know that summer is approaching is when I go outside for the first time, breathe in a breath of fresh air, and think to myself that I feel eight years old again.
Overall, I feel as though a lot of people can probably relate to this, though we don’t usually talk about it as much (potentially because we don’t realize how much these things affect us). The picture I have attached below is of three birds which I saw perched in a tree when I was on a walk the other day. They reminded me of the summers of my youth and how good it feels to be outside.
Thanks for reading and let me know if you can see my picture with the link!
Peace at Home
I woke up to the familiar sound of a squirrel chirping about in the neighbors tree. At first, I was frustrated. After all, it was 7 A.M., and all I wanted was five more minutes of sleep. I made myself an iced chai latte and decided to talk in the morning sun. One of my many safe places as an off campus student is my beautiful backyard. It can be hard to find a nice, quiet place to observe my surroundings and start the day. I walked towards the bench where me and my friends have hosted some of our best smore sessions. I have created so many memories and prepared to carry more as I looked up at the sky. The sun, the clouds even, looked so astonishing in the early morning. After another long and harsh winter, I began to ponder to myself: when was the last time I came outside and just looked at the sky?
As a kid, I loved to sit on the grass with my mom and watch the clouds pass us by. Together, we would point out the different shapes of the clouds, create short stories with them and make personal connections. I realized how much I missed this, and how much I missed sharing this with somebody. As I sat on the bench, I watched as the birds fluttered towards each other, their chirps as distinguishable as the squirrel who woke me from my slumber. I never realized the diverse amount of birds within my area. I occasionally see the most beautiful Northern Cardinal bird, who resides in a small tree right by my driveway. Although it is small, it is quite loud, making sure that its presence is known. Yet, it is always hiding in a place where I cannot seem to find it, no matter how hard I try.
Every morning on my way to class, I seem to encounter an American Robin. They are naturally friendly birds and are attracted to areas that are highly populated with people. Different from squirrels, who would rather risk getting hit by a car, the American Robins are undaunted by my presence. If I am in no rush, I like to sit and watch them. Never making alarming noises, they are simply curious animals. I occasionally find one wavering around Bailey on the 1st floor. They love to sit by the window. Sometimes I find myself staring, I wonder if they can sense my presence and curiosity from the classroom. The more I see them, the more confident I am in my day.
I realized I wasn’t getting as much as I would have liked just looking towards my house, so I turned around. There is a large land of grass behind the house, shared by many in the neighborhood. I walked a little further and sat on the grass, ignoring how badly it made me itch. I watched birds chirp amongst each other in a tree as two squirrels raced each other to the top of a tree. Two stray cats wandered into the large, unbothered area. Both taking glances at me, unaware of whether I would try to gather their attention or not. They soon scattered away when a flock of deer came into the scene. They were beautiful and so gracefully silent. I hadn’t even realized they were there until I stopped focusing on the stray cats.
Completely unfazed by the neighborhood clatter of lawnmowers, leaf blowers, and minor maintenance, they were fully enthralled by their environment. Looking at them from afar made me admire their bond. Before I could snap a picture of them, they galloped away.
Before I went inside, I took one last look at the clouds. I pointed out a few in my head, making small comments to myself about their shape, figuring out which ones my mom would have liked the best. I decided I wanted to do this again in the future. I want to experience this nostalgic feeling again, embrace the love and connection with my own family. When I go home, I’ll be sure to do this again!
Looking up
Within the world of technology looking down has become common practice, and almost instinctual for humans to do. We look down at our phone screens and avoid eye contact with others. When we finally look up and out at nature we can finally feel peace and connection that no phone screen could ever give.
A week ago I was in the union all day studying in a conference room without any windows for 4 hours. I went in at 2 pm when the sun was high in the sky and left when it was beginning to set around 6. When I left the Union I remembered this blog post assignment, and I decided to sit outside and wait for the sun to set. When I was sitting outside I started to reflect on how disconnected from nature I am. With the semester coming to an end and work piling up I am focused so much on my computer that I forget to look up and enjoy what’s around me. When I was sitting and watching the sun go down I put on some music and decided to observe as much as I could. I thought about the grass I was sitting on and how interesting humans use grass. It’s a sign of nature and a sign of class. a nice clean-cut yard looks nice, but if we let grass just grow it’s seen as unkempt. Grass also is a place for everyone to walk on and dance on and enjoy. It’s such a common plant that we don’t think of its existence often. Another observation I made was when the sun began to set. When the sun was going down and the sky became colorful people stopped to appreciate it. When a day comes to an end and we get that small moment of beauty, people do stop to enjoy it.
As I was sitting I began to think about human impact on the environment. We’ve caused such destruction for our planet, and without massive changes, we will cause our extinction. How did we cause this? How did we get to a point where there’s nothing the common person can do to change this? How did we go from living in trees to living in massive buildings and cities? I started to get discouraged. I mean thinking about our destruction can make anyone upset! But I realized something… everything we’ve made and built was for each other. everything we’ve built was for people to live and work together. yes, we live outside of nature and are ignorant of some huge issues, but humans are nature. All of our buildings and roads are just the huge ecosystem of humans. Were destroying our planet, but we’ve done it for mankind and each other. Thinking like this is a part of the problem, but it can be beautiful. It’s amazing what we’ve built together.
As the sun started to set and my time thinking like Walden was coming to an end, I was grateful for everything around me. I’m grateful for my education and the shoes I wear. I’m grateful for everyone around me. I’m grateful that people have come together to build our beautiful campus. I’m grateful that the sun will rise again tomorrow and we’ll get to live another day.
Flowers, Ghosts and Other Things…
Dandelions, white and green. Their stems are straight and tall but their heads are round and soft. They sit next to little yellow flowers with frilly ends. I thought they were different species that are different from one another but they are the same. In the life cycle of those flowers, the frilly yellow ones, the dandelions are only lingering ghosts of the sunny, yellow pedals they used to shine when they were younger. Now only a dandelion remains, waiting to be blown away like dust and disappear as all things do eventually.
They say if you blow on them and let each seed dissipate in the wind, that whatever you wish for will come true. I have tried many times to blow out each dandelion infructescence but I have never been able to do so in one try. When this happens, your wish has not worked and it cannot be granted. It always disappointed me then, like I had missed my one chance at my one wish, and now it would not come true. Still, I would blow on it a few more times, but a few of the white puffs still lingered, clinging on to their home flower, like they were not yet ready to disappear. In capitulation, I’d pluck those off with my fingers and drop the green stem back to the ground. The stark realization that none of my wishes would come true that day. And why should they?
When I was a child, there were yellow buttercups that sprouted in our backyard every summer. All the neighborhood kids would pluck them from the ground and hold one under their neighbor’s chin. “If it glows, that means you like butter,” they all said. The golden light cast its own shadow on their skin, underneath their chin. I can’t remember now the last time someone tried to see if I liked butter, but I’d bet it was a long time ago.
I wonder if those flowers still sprout on my lawn. I don’t see why they shouldn’t but I no longer live there, and although I visit, it has been too long of a time since I last checked. As we grow older, those flowers and dandelions become ghosts forgotten behind everything else. We step on them now, just like we plucked them then, forgetting they are living until they are not.
My landlord was mowing the lawn just yesterday, and he paid no mind to the taraxacum or the buttercup flowers. The grass must be trimmed, so that houses look nice and you are not judged by your neighbor. This is the colonization of land. This is how we have dominated nature. This is all that we know. And despite these irreversible effects we have cast on nature, we still torment her. We use her and defile her because she can give us what we need but she is running out. She will become a ghost like the rest of us. We are all doomed to the same fate.
Morning on Repeat
Every morning, my body finds itself waking up a lot earlier than everybody else. Not to disturb anyone I slowly roll out of bed and find myself sitting in my common room on an ottoman with my cat, looking out the window. The grass is so green every morning because the sun is hitting it just right and it’s so high up in the sky that it’s gleaming down through the windows and the trees making good little sunray puddles for my cat to sit in and sunbathe in. Sometimes if it’s raining or had rained the night before, I can see the water flowing into the storm drain beneath my window all the grass around it is a lot more wet and dewey. The pinecones are open today which means it’s a warm and dry day, I’m sure I’ll be seeing squirrels playing pass around with them soon. The two trees outside my window face each other and pull my attention into the middle where when each person walks it seems like a garden hitch or a wedding altar is above them. I don’t know for sure but I imagine their roots are intertwinted somewhere undernesth the mulch and soil. I like to think they’ve been holding each other for quite some time. The small pink leaves at the ends of each stringy branch fall into the same place creating a pile on the ground, almost like a pretty version of a leaf pile sized for small creatures. Little brown birds with blue chests like perching themselves on the thicker branches. I often get to enjoy their singing in the mornings but sometimes I wake up too late and miss it, at that point they only chirp when another bird finds itself on the tree with them.
Sitting here, I can feel the warmth on top of my head and the tips of my ears from the sun, it shines onto my jewelry and creates little shimmers for my cat to follow. His eyes moving back and forth in the sunlight are almost the same color as the dandelions outside. I get reminded of him when I see them moving in the wind and for some reason can’t help but love the little weeds. I’ve slowly seen them transform over the course of my time here, sitting in my window, day after day. Small green buds that resemble asparagus while growing, turn into these gorgeous bright yellow dandelions, then get withered away and sulk for a few days. The buds become dry, fluffy, and white. They’re soft to the touch yet very fragile. I love blowing them out like birthday candles. They are as weak as can be, where even a light flow of wind from a person’s pants will blow some off. But those fluffs have seeds within them that fall and grow more bright yellow dandelions, and the cycle will just keep continuing. Not every morning but some, when I catch myself admiring his eyes and the dandelions, I am reminded that life isn’t always as it seems. Each day is a little different, just as each day a new dandelion has either sprouted or disappeared, only for a moment. The dandelions just needed a second to recuperate. even if they sulk, wither, dry, or fall. Wherever they land they will regrow, one step at a time, and the cycle will just keep continuing. No matter how frail I feel or what stage I’m at in my life, I will always plant more seeds as I go and have the chance to grow again.
Field Trip!
Yes you read that correctly, we took a field trip. My group and I took a little trip to the Romer Arboretum the other day and it was an experiece. Some of us have only been there a handful of times, and some of us not at all. As you can imagine this short hour or so was and adventure, knowing us.
It started off relatively normal, I picked up Rachel from her dorm and we made our way to the Arboretum. When we got there, Izzy had just gotten there alongside us, Cole was waiting up for us at the enterance, and Syd and Griffin were waiting patently for us at the gazebo just inside.
Before doing anything else, we posed for a photo and enjoyed each others company before stepping out of the gazebo and taking it all in. There was a light rain, and it was a bit chilly so almost all of us were prepared for the weather. We did not stray far from the gazebo as it is very easy to get lost in the arboretum and, to be honest, all of us could not afford the time it would take to get lost on that particular day. In the surroundgin area, there was what giffin dubbed ‘the bee hotel’ which im assuming is something that the Beekeeping Club here on campus constucted, he did also try to climb a nearby tree which was interesting.
While Griffin was out on his own adventure, the rest of us, minus Cole who was still in the gazebo pacing around and even trying to climb it, were looking at the surrounding plants which we assumed to be native plants to the area. Pretty much all of them were just green plants with no special flowers or colors, but nature and plants do not need those things to continue to be beautiful. Something that I realized while reflecting on this trip, was that the grass was particularly green on that day and I am not sure of that was the weather or just my imagination, but it was beautiful and really pretty to look at and just be in the presence of.
We knew it was time for the end of our trip when we started to get a little cold, all of us walked out of the Romer Arboretum together while Izzy told us some stories of some of her time spent in there. All in all this trip served a purpose more than just for the sake of being one with nature, but as a fun bonding experience with the people i’ve grown closer to over the course of the semester. Gramacisy forever.
A Corner of Nature on Campus
On SUNY Geneseo’s campus, it can be extremely difficult to escape the concrete and pavement that seems to circumscribe any green areas. That isn’t even going into the fences and signs that don’t allow us to get to one of the few dedicated green spaces near any academic buildings. One of the only places a student living on SUNY Geneseo’s campus can go to really experience nature without a car is the Roemer Arboretum. Despite being one of the farthest areas from academic buildings, it is fairly easily accessible, though it may be a bit of a walk. I have been going to the arboretum for four years now, anytime I needed an escape from classes – my freshman year, on zoom, or, since then, the fluorescent lighting and cold, inorganic classrooms. I have seen the Arboretum develop over the years – as a freshman, living in Onondaga Hall (which is very close to the arboretum), in order to get to the gazebo and actually out of sight of the parking lots, you had to balance on one of two wooden planks that went over a marshy area, and try your best to keep that balance when they inevitably bowed under your weight. I experienced when they replaced those boards with newer, sturdier boards, and now, as there is an actual footbridge over the wet, marshy area. To me, the arboretum has always been a place of peace and quiet, to escape the chaos of campus and classes and the world, in general. It has been, since my freshman year, when it became a 15 minute walk instead of a 3 minute walk, somewhere that I have always gone alone. No one I’ve lived with has really wanted to make that trek, so it became a time of true quiet and contemplation whenever I’d go there. One of my favorite things about the arboretum is, if you go there on a clear night, you can see the stars and constellations – this is something that is not possible anywhere else on campus.
One thing that I always find comforting about nature (especially when it is not tampered with by human hands) is how slow, consistent, and expected any changes are. Though people have changed some things in the arboretum – adding a bee box, cutting down a few trees, or replacing the footbridge – everything else is consistently what you expect. The trees get green, and then colorful, and then the leaves fall, and then they bud again. The plants consistently look the same as they do at this point in the season any year I go. When life moves as fast as it seems to be – maybe more to me, since it seems my whole life is being uprooted as graduation looms on the horizon – a place where everything is slow and consistent and unchanged is of immense comfort.
On my very last GREAT Day before I graduate, I met with my group to go to the Arboretum to be in nature for a while. It was a chilly, rainy day, and I had already had to be at an event for GREAT Day, so I was in a skirt. The misty rain and the brutal wind made the walk a little less enjoyable than usual, but, in a way, it allowed me to feel a little deeper what this part of the season is for the plants in the arboretum. Though it was fairly dark and dreary, there was no sun to be seen, and the windblown raindrops felt like tiny pebbles against my legs, you could see the plants getting greener and the buds growing. The dark day was made so much brighter by the deepest green coming out in the buds on the plants, and in the growing grass, and the small blossoms blooming on some of the shrubbery. Standing in the gazebo, the only sounds other than the group talking about this experience was the raindrops on the roof of the gazebo, the wind blowing through the trees, and the birds flying around, landing and taking off from the trees, and singing, despite the gloom of the day.
The entire experience was one of immense hope – despite the objective imperfections of the day, everyone could tell that these kinds of days are what is needed to have beautiful green sunny days in the future. It’s a feeling I’m choosing to hold onto, as I get through the stress of my last finals period in my undergrad, and the uncertainty that is coming with graduation – nature needs the gloomy periods in order to have beautiful, bright, and better days.
I Think, I Wonder
I love long drives. Within which I can just simply glance over the rolling hills of Geneseo farm land and watch the occasional car zip by as I then wonder where they are heading. To see family, go to work, simply on a drive, going to hike Letchworth State Park, so many options and even some that I cannot fathom. Such complex lives yet nothing as complex as our relationships with the Earth. As I watched the trees pass in the window of the fast moving car I wondered how long they had drank water from our Earth. When were you planted, little one? How many cars have passed by you without a care, old trunk? I think of all these things while music dances around my nineteen year old brain. “Oh, I can’t. Stop you putting roots in my dreamland.” Taylor Swift’s voice rings over the speakers of my friend’s Subaru and I can imagine that old trunk screaming those words in vain as the living lay their concrete roots in his dreamland known as Mother Earth. As the wind tries to whisk the newly budding leaves from his grandfather branches, I know it’s nothing that the air-purifying tree has not felt before, but I wish I could know how much breathable air that one old trunk has supplied to the community and how much longer it will work with such a heavy burden. Some day those trees just might rise up and quit filtering our air because we do not deserve it, or them.
As the vast farmlands morph into small town gas stations and then a large state protected forest I think of how long it has taken humanity to realize we need to take better care of the Earth. The winding roads of Letchworth State Park lead us to a gorgeous miracle of Earth, a waterfall. So much power that showers over the edge of its erosion-shaven rocks. As the water slips down the smooth rocks of the Upper Falls it reaches another fall, the Middle Falls. On-lookers and fans of Letchworth say when looking at the side of the Middle Falls they can see a face within the rocks. How is Earth so graceful it created a monument of us? Even with everything we’ve done and taken advantage of. I was completely verklempt in this moment. I can imagine these slimy rocks, constantly pushed down with the weight of water crashing through, as a metaphor of myself. I see that face in the rocks and wonder how those rocks do not just give up and crumble under the force as I have wanted to do so many times. The face of the falls has reminded me that even when the weight of the world seems to want to crush me, I have the strength to stand my ground and flourish in the environment around me—I am important in a world of concrete. I wonder if that old trunk witnessed such a moment he would feel grateful that even though he is not specifically appreciated, his friends in the forest of Letchworth are for all of their hard work.