To The Woods - Day 10 - June 8, 2015

No post from last Friday, we spent all day creating photo journals and weren't required to post anything. This morning, there was no field trip, and we spent the morning reading and writing a short story personifying something living. The short story we read as an example personified a field mouse, and the short story I wrote personified a pinyon tree. Here is my story:

Pinyons

By Jacob Penick

He is a tree which can survive in places no other trees could. His group of trees, a wide carpet of pinyons on the desert floor, stretches and fingers its way through the sharp, rocky top of the Colorado plateau before dropping off into the Grand Canyon. He is young, living for a mere 50 years on this earth while his neighbors around him grow near 250 years old. The pinyons are a quiet bunch, living in a peaceful solitude amongst one another. Being young, he grows tall and straight, reaching his thick needles out as far as he can in any direction. His surrounding, more ancient counterparts grow stout and twisted, constantly barraged with strong wind and wood-warping lightning. Lightning strikes really do a number on desert pinyons, twisting them beyond recognition, and he knew it was only a matter of time until he was struck.

It has been a while since the last desert rain, and although the desert pinyon is accustomed to a drier climate, he longs for a nice, cool rain. Rain is not common in his home, but when it does bless the parched ground, it falls fast and hard, eroding the soil away from him. This makes rooting troublesome for him and his neighbors, as the rain constantly moves soil away from their roots, exposing them to the environment. Pinyon Jays often visit him, plucking endlessly at his branches to gather the seeds he produces. Every fall, he drops cones full of seeds, spreading them out on the orange, rocky ground in hopes of producing new pinyons. Hope. This is his emotion. All he has is hope. Hope that the rain will come, hope that his seeds will be successful, hope that the lightning doesn’t warp his trunk, and hope that fires don’t take his life.

This afternoon is particularly dry. The hot sun blazing overhead makes him feel as if the drought will never end. The memories of the last rain are gone, and each tree struggles to pull nutrients from the dry air and sap them from the equally dry ground. He feels the distress of his ancient neighbors, but they have persevered through many droughts before and will likely survive this one too. He himself also worries. He worries that his beautiful teal needles will wither to a sad yellow, worries that the Pinyon Jays will not have any nuts to eat. He is a selfless creature, whether he is conscious of it or not, constantly producing food for the Jays. His hope for rain declines as his needles vainly test the dry air for any moisture. Night would soon fall, placing the harsh sun beneath the rocks and cooling the air. This was a constant comfort to the pinyons, knowing that a cool night always follows a horribly hot day.

The sky got darker than usual as evening fell, turning wonderful shades of blues and purples and even some greens. These colors could only mean clouds. Clouds out of the Southwest. He hoped the clouds would fall from the sky on his pinyon forest, drenching him, his neighbors, and the soil in a sweet night rain. The clouds grew taller as they rode the westerly wind, but he and his neighbors could hardly tell from the pitch blackness of the new-moon night that surrounded them. All they could see were the stars in the wide sky slowly disappearing as the clouds approached. They knew tall clouds meant rain, and with tall clouds and rain also came lightning. The stars directly overhead quietly disappeared, and the rain came. The rain violently streamed down, and for a moment, he and his neighbors basked in the wonderful wetness. His needles and branches grew heavy with moisture. For an instant, the sky was illuminated in white light as lightning found its way to the ground nearby.

He was unsure if any of his neighbors had been struck by the beautiful white light, but it didn’t matter, the rain had finally come, and he was going to enjoy it. But he couldn’t. The lightning had struck a neighbor of his, another young pinyon, permanently warping their trunk. This threw sparks in every direction. The rain had only been coming down for about a minute, so the sparks found a way to catch, spreading their fiery influence throughout the forest. He eventually noticed the orange glow nearby. If he could hear, he’d hear the crackling of wood as fire ripped through his neighbors. If he could smell, he’d smell the wonderfully sweet scent of burning pinyon. If he could taste, he’d taste the smoke and ash and constant waterfall from the sky. If he could feel, he’d feel the heat radiating from his burning brethren and the newly loosened soil between his roots. Before he knew it, he too was engulfed in flames. He knew this could happen. He feared the loss of his life for many, many years. He wanted to grow old like his neighbors, warped by the weather, having the wisdom only an ancient tree could have. He died slowly in irony amidst the pleasant rain and the painful fire. Some branches had a hard time catching due to the recent wetness, but they too inevitably went ablaze. Each teal needle burned, taking his pride away in a cloud of smoke. Hopefully from his remains would sprout a new pinyon, eager to grow and age like him. 

There is an accompanying image, but it won't load in for whatever reason. This is my last blog post, as I have to turn in my netbook like right now. 

To The Woods - Day 8 - June 4, 2015

There is something about canoeing that is more peaceful than just about anything else. Silently gliding over the smooth river that occasionally breaks into faster, shallower water brings about feelings of solitude and peace. Even more so are these feelings if you are canoeing alone. There isn't much to write about other than it was a good time, and it was really nice way to enjoy nature. I saw a beaver for the first time, carrying a stick through the water. At first, I thought it was just a floating stick, but it turned out there was a little beaver swimming beneath it. Unfortunately, I couldn't take any pictures because I kept my phone in a dry-bag The writing requirement for the day is to write  recipe poem about a body of water, and I chose to write about a river.

To make a river you need land and water. Allow the water to fall from a height, usually collecting at the top of the land. Watch as the water moves, forming a trough, the base of the river. A river is not just a trough with water. You need sediment to cloud it, organisms to inhabit it, and land animals to use it. Add to the water a dash of bacteria, a sprinkle of bugs, and a few cups of fish. Allow time for the organisms to develop and evolve. Toss in some sharp rocks to break up the surface of the water, agitating it. Over time, animals will come to feed and float on your river, and it will continue to develop. You need to do very little to create a river, as rivers occur naturally. Man I'm really not feeling this poem. 

Sorry for the short entry.

To The Woods - Day 7 - June 3, 2015

Today we did vignettes. No field trip, just vignettes. We were taught a mini-lesson on vignettes that was fairly interesting. Vignettes are small passages of writing no more than 800 words long that evoke emotions and are usually written in the form of a poem, some sort of art, or a narrative using as many senses as possible. When writing a vignette, it is important to keep in mind that the purpose of your writing is to make the reader feel something. We followed five steps to create a vignette. The first step is to create a web of words stemming from one central word. The second step is to choose a focus or a main idea from this web. The third step is to find a picture of your focus or visualize it in your mind. The fourth step is to determine what medium of writing it will be written in and from what point of view. The final step is to draft and re-draft the vignette. We started by creating a practice vignette based on a provided picture. Here is what I came up with:

The picture we used for practice 

The web of words I came up with for this one 

I decided that my focus would be on the mountain, and that my piece would be a monologue with a poem-style arrangement from the point of view of the mountain. 

I stand tall over my kingdom.

Everything here is here because of me.

My hat of snow falls away,

tumbling past the treeline, bringing life to life.

The sun bathes my left side,

the shadows cool my right,

Regulating temperatures in my vibrant valley.

Even up here, the rich pine scent finds its way to me.

I peer upon the valley's boulders,

pieces of my own self brought away by the bubbling stream.

Other mountains surround me,

each with their own valley teeming with life.

Suddenly I am insignificant,

a lonely piece in an overwhelming puzzle, 

but I look at my valley and think.

Everything is here because of me.

I stand tall over my kingdom.

And I feel insignificant no more.

I went through all the same steps with the picture of a turtle I took at Cox as directed by the teachers. Here is what I came up with:

The turtle 

The web of words I came up with for this one

I decided that my focus would be on the ripples of water and that the piece would be a monologue from my point of view. 

I stand firmly upon this curved bridge 

scanning the dark water for life. 

I always seem to miss the wildlife around me,

so I feel I must find a turtle.

Soft ripples spread themselves out, glinting.

Sudden sunlight in my eyes.

I hear no animal movement, only ripples.

My eyes follow a set of ripples to their source.

Smells of wet sediment clog my nose

when Lo! A turtle has shown itself to me.

The source of the ripples

whose shell hardly contrasts the water

whose head rests gently on the surface 

floats easily among the pond flora. 

As you can see, my first poem is of much higher quality than the second poem. I think I found it so much easier to write the first poem because there was more going on in the subject picture, more to write about, more left to the imagination. With the turtle picture, there was nothing happening in the photo and I know exactly what was going on around me when I took it, leaving nothing to the imagination. To finish the day we watched a movie based off of a book, Never Cry Wolf. I loved the movie. It was about a dude who lived in the wilderness observing a family of wolves. The movie had a strong theme of nature presentation and was beautifully filmed and put together. It made me really want to visit the arctic circle. 

To The Woods - Day 6 - June 2, 2015

Kayaking day! I've been looking forward to kayaking for a while, and it finally happened today. The only downside was that it is June 2 and it was ridiculously cold outside. I dressed for summer (because it is summer) , when I really should have worn very warm clothes. It didn't help much that I got really wet when I was in my boat, so basically I accepted my fate of a frostbitten death which luckily never came. Anyway, the day started with an excerpt from Walden by H.D. Thoreau that used extremely detailed nature writing in the form of a reflective narrative, a prose I suppose (haha). He would write about observations and draw meaning from them using creative writing techniques like symbolism, personification, and metaphors. I kept the way Mr. Thoreau wrote this piece in mind throughout the day, as we did another hike through a small section of woods during which I made observations that I would draw meaning from while writing about the experience later.

When we arrived at Eastwood Metropark, we split into two groups. One group kayaked while the other group hiked and vice versa. My group hiked first, splitting up into three more groups, one group with each guide. The hike was quite small, only about half a mile or so long, but it took a long time as we often stopped to listen to birds or talk about wildlife in the immediate area. The section of trail we walked on is part of both the Buckeye Trail and the North Country trail, two long-distance backpacking trails. This very small portion of trail lay nestled between a small hill and the Mad River, unfortunately not very far removed from the wide open grassy sports fields of Eastwood Metropark. Walking down the set of dirt and wood stairs at the start of the trail, I recall the time I rode my bike on this trail, whizzing past all the beautiful plants and river scenes without giving them a second thought. This time, however, I was slowly walking, so I had time to observe all the bugs, plants, and animals I could. I found myself fascinated by the high concentration of sycamore trees in the area. These trees are beautiful with bark-less white and grey tops and bright green leaves. Our guide spent most of the time talking about the birds flying above and the sounds they made, which I didn't really find as interesting as the trees and bugs hanging out around me. One thing I learned about birds is that chimney swifts, the very common black-colored bird you see flying around all the time, need dead trees to live, so cutting down dead trees isn't really a good idea. We focused heavily on invasive plants. When in the woods, you can easily identify an invasive plant by seeing if its leaves are being eaten or not. If they are, then the plant is most likely native. We also learned how to identify poison ivy more easily by looking for the opposite mitten shape on the outer two leaves of three leaf groups. As we made our way back to the lunch area, we came across groves of hemlock and wild strawberries. Apparently, these strawberries are invasive, but they aren't really harming anything. I ate one. I guess it was ok.

Beavers seem to have worked on this tree a bit. Noticed this when we stopped to talk abut some birds. 

Small patch of wild strawberries

After hiking and eating lunch, it was finally time to get in a boat. The instructor gave a quick crash-course in life jacket safety and paddle-handling before turning us loose to paddle around. I had gone through a couple levels of a kayaking class with the same guy before, and I thank my lucky stars that he didn't recognize me. Because of my prior experience, it didn't take me long to get my bearings in the boat. I was pretty good at taking really tight turns and gaining speed. We followed the instructors on a route around islands in this little lake. The water here was so calm. It wasn't very clear or pretty, but if you could get ahead of the mass of high school kids in boats you could appreciate how calm and smooth the surface of the lake was.

A little away from the group I could enjoy the calmness

Kayaking 

More kayaking

After getting back to the school, we were tasked with writing something like what H.D. Thoreau wrote in that passage from Walden using observations (all five senses, of course) and trying to get meaning from them. I had a little more trouble connecting with nature today than I had at Aulwood or Cox, but I'll give it a shot anyway: (I'm doing it in the form of a reflection)

I can remember the green surface of the water, a wide floor of stained glass with islands in the center and bridges overhead. Dipping my fingers in the glass, I hardly felt water; no, it was too light to be water. It must have been a thicker version of the air around me, freezing the skin near my fingernails. My nose was stuffy, so my mouth hung open. The wind constantly smothered my face as I paddled along, drying my mouth, leaving a stale, hard taste. This may have been a freshwater lake, but the salty smell of sediment being stirred by the water constantly drills holes in my nostrils. Coming back onto land, the line of kayaks bumps against the docks, thump thump thump, a giant made of hollow plastic meandering along a wooden boardwalk.

I feel like this writing piece isn't the best that I could do, hopefully tomorrow whatever we do I'll be able to tackle the task a little bit better. 

To The Woods - Day 5 - June 1, 2015

No field trip today on Day 5, but I spent the entire morning daydreaming and planning for a trip. We began the day by watching videos and readings from a book called Wild (which has recently been turned into a movie). Wild is about a woman's time spent on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and how she overcame her challenges, both inside and outside of hiking. One major struggle she had with her hike was her pack weight (70 lbs.!!). She used the pack weight as a metaphor for the daily struggles she encountered and had to live with from drug use to divorced to the death of her mom. Eventually, she picked it up and carried it regardless of the weight, just like the stuff she had to deal with on a daily basis. This hike changed this woman's life, helping her to focus on what's important. After finishing the hike, she remarried and is currently a mother of two and extremely happy with her life. One long hike can change so much.

This actually isn't the first time I've heard of the PCT. In the summer of 2010 or something I skipped out on a trip to the water park to watch and re-watch a National Geographic documentary on thru-hiking the PCT. Watching these people hike in such an amazing place for more than 2,500 miles inspired me to do just that. I still hope to hike it some day, and this activity was a nice reminder of that personal goal. The only problem is that it takes many months and needs to be timed just right in order to thru-hike the PCT, so I can't really be in school or involved with a job when (if) I do it. Since seeing the documentary when I was younger, I've always wanted to hike it just for the beautiful scenery and the removal from society, but the woman in Wild made an interesting point. She said that there are two kinds of people that hike the PCT; those who do it just because they can and to enjoy nature (my reason), and those that are looking for change in their lives. No matter which type of person you are, you will experience change in your life and you will feel more connected to nature.

We did an activity based off of packing for a hike like this. The woman from Wild's pack, Monster, weighed about 70 pounds and was ridiculously over-packed. The average pack weight for backpackers is somewhere around 20 or 25 pounds. Our task was to develop a list of supplies that we would take on a large backpacking trip while recording the weights of each item. This amount of supplies had to be suitable for however long we would be on the trail. This is my list:

I am going to be hiking the Colorado Trail from Denver to Durango starting in mid-Summer for 486 miles, taking 5 weeks to thru-hike it at about 14 miles/day.

Anything marked with a star can be discarded mid-trip, weather permitting. My total pack weight, including water, fuel, and daily food is exactly 30 pounds, a little heavier than the preferred weight of about 25 pounds. This research took a lot of time, in fact I had to work on it a little at home, as I researched each product and compared it to its competitors based on weight and functionality with no regard to price. In fact, the Hummingbird sleeping bag costs more than my pack and my tent combined, which is a little ridiculous. Obviously, if I were to actually plan a pack like this, the weight would be a little heavier as I would spend so much money trying to save weight. The rest of the day was spent doing yoga and watching Fly Away Home, a movie about a young girl helping geese to migrate for the first time by flying a light aircraft shaped like a goose. That itself sounds like a drug trip, but the movie was pretty good, heartwarming even. I look forward to visiting Eastwood Metropark tomorrow to gather some material for nature writing.

To The Woods - Day 4 - May 29, 2015

Day 4 of To the Woods was pretty interesting, being our third field trip in a row. We took a trip to Aulwood Audubon to learn more about Ohio's animals as opposed to the focus on plants that Cox Arboretum had. I found it amazing how many land and air animals take refuge in such a small area of land in the middle of Ohio. To start the trip, the class was introduced to the park and its history as well as the guides that would teach us whatever we wanted to know throughout the day. We were divided into four groups to travel about the park, each group with a different guide. My group's guide led us into the visitor center to take a look at some of the more rare inhabitants of the nearby woods, including snakes and turtles. We were allowed to touch and hold a black rat snake, the largest snake in the area. This particular snake was nearly ready to shed its outer scales, so the scales felt very loose and its eyes were milky white. We then looked at water and land-based turtles as our guide let one land-based turtle wander around the room freely.

Black Rat Snake

A turtle wandering around on the floor

An aquatic turtle that apparently does what a skunk does or something

Leaving the visitor center, everyone in the group grabs a pair of binoculars with which we will later use to observe wildlife, mostly birds, much more closely. The first place on our hike through the woods that we stopped to talk about things was a wide prairie with about knee-high grass. Through our binoculars we saw a deer and multiple blue birds. We heard some sort of giant woodpecker off in the distance. It was nice to stop and use most senses to observe this hazy prairie. Mrs. McDaniel pointed out spittle bugs on the blades of grass all around us. These bugs use the sap of the grass to create a protective layer of clear bubbles that genuinely looks like spit. As we walked through the woods, I found myself constantly looking for mushrooms (I was a mushroom in a simulation earlier in the morning showing the relationships between living things, so my interest was piqued) so much so that it became sort of a joke. After minutes and minutes of not finding a single mushroom, we finally found one, and the excitement was tangible. I actually really enjoyed learning about the woods by asking questions of the group's guide that I had never thought to ask before. 

A fine mushroom specimen 

Near the end of our hike, we stopped at a natural spring to scoop the water with strainers and see what kind of wildlife we could find. Immediately we noticed a couple frogs just hanging out on some logs, not seeming to care about the group of students invading their privacy.

Frog on a log over a spring

My scoops didn't pick up much wildlife, but my friends immediately began scooping out salamanders and snails. I got a few salamanders which I picked up and put in my hands. These little guys were strong, wiggling about until they got to where they wanted to be. At one point, Mrs. McDaniel scooped up a jiggling mass of clear jelly with orange dots scattered throughout. This discovery baffled everyone until she showed the group's guide, who told us that they were frog eggs. Apparently they're incredibly fragile, so the eggs were carefully placed back in the water. 

A baby salamander laying on the boardwalk

Frog eggs 

After eating lunch and heading back to the school, we did a writing exercise based on using as many senses as possible to describe a relaxing place. This description will be used as a meditation guide later in the course, so it had to be pretty nice. I did my piece on a place in Moab again, a place near to the place used in the writing exercise on Day 1. My personal writing was based on a real experience that I found meditative. I look forward to using it as a meditation guide, but writing it was very meditative in itself. I liked reflecting on this moment in my life. This is what I wrote:

You stand at an angle as the steep fin* rises up before you and drops away behind you. You feel impressed, accomplished that you scaled the steep folds in the stone up out of the shade as the sun warms your nose. It’s a cool 50 degrees outside, but the sun warms everything up at this altitude, so the coldness isn’t noticeable. You observe the adjacent fins as they rise up next to you, all pointing the same direction, an eager herd of livestock. The area of the fin you stand on is only about four feet wide and very uneven, but you feel balanced, relaxed, at peace. The intoxicating smell of juniper berries and desert pines wafts up from below the fin where green plants flourish in the shade. The blue sky above contrasts beautifully with the smooth red and orange rock that dominates the land. You decide that you need to keep ascending, driven by overpowering curiosity.

You keep going, completely blocking out the drone of campers and picnickers far below where you started, enjoying themselves in their own way. You notice that the temperature of the sandstone beneath your hands increases as you climb, so much so that you feel it through your shoes. It isn’t unpleasant, just interesting. You reach your destination, the highest point of the fin. You continue to enjoy the view of the fins around you, noticing the blue, snow-capped La Salle peaks rising up nearby. The fins seem to point to the peaks, creating some sort of wonderful natural symmetry. The final ascent was tough, but you feel strong, happy that you’ve come so far. You’re sitting in the middle of your favorite place in the world, feeling a significant connection to the physical earth below you. You seem to notice this feeling no matter where you are in Moab, but in few places is the sensation this significant. It is the most peaceful place on Earth. As you sit here, there are no wars, no famine, no strife, only natural beauty and good vibes.

You focus back on the people far below, enjoying their lunches. You hear the young voices of your cousins as they play in the sand. They live nearby, so this type of place isn’t as special for them as it is for you. They’re down there, living their lives happily, and you’re up here, living your life happily. You have an urge to join them in the sand, but the ascent was steep, so the descent will be even more difficult. You start to feel a little anxious, nervous that you won’t be able to get down safely. You continue down the other side of the fin, a little more gradual than the side you climbed. Nervous feelings still dominate, overshadowing the peacefulness felt before, as this side of the fin leads far away from the picnic into the dense field of fins. You notice a sand embankment creeping high up the left side of the fin and stop, rooting your feet to the smooth stone. You carefully analyze the situation, and decide to jump down to the sand, a solid ten foot drop. Of course, the nervousness intensifies even further at the thought of dropping, but you overcome. You sail through the air for a second, wind in your face, landing with a soft poof at the top of the sand embankment. All the nervous feeling melt away into the sand, turning into happiness and pride, absorbing your new surroundings. Stumbling down the sand, you laugh, incredibly relieved but eager to do it again. It may have been frightening, but the overwhelming feeling of relief and accomplishment takes over past feelings. You hurry back to the picnic along the side of the fin, ready to enjoy the afternoon with your cousins.

*A fin is a slab of sandstone protruding from the ground, some with great vertical height and some with great horizontal width. They vary in size I guess. 

I chose to write my piece in second person because I thought it would be a unique challenge, but I didn't find it particularly challenging, just enjoyable. A good friend of mine, Cheyenne, joined the class today. It was cool having someone to hang out with, as none of my close friends were in the class previously. It'll be fun having someone to share the experiences this class will bring in the future. 

Devil's Garden, Moab, UT. from on top of a fin

To The Woods - Day 3 - May 28, 2015

For day 3 three of To The Woods, we traveled as a class to Cox Arboretum. Luckily, we had a bus this time, so we didn't have to walk all day in the hot sun. This trip took the entire day up to the last hour, so we had much time to explore the arboretum grounds. We started the day finishing up stuff from yesterday that hadn't been finished yet, and then going over the assignment for Cox Arboretum. For most of the time we could explore the arboretum, but at some point we had to take pictures of five trees, giving close-ups of their leaves and bark as well as a single wide shot from a distance. In addition, we had to take a picture of some sort of wildlife found in the arboretum. These are my tree pictures: 

 Ginkgo bark

Ginkgo leaves

Ginkgo tree (Matt for scale) 

 Hoopsii Colorado Blue Spruce bark

Hoopsii Colorado Blue Spruce leaves (needles?)

Hoopsii Colorado Blue Spruce tree

 Silver Linden bark

 Silver Linden leaves 

Silver Linden tree

 Cottonwood bark

 Cottonwood trees 

Cottonwood tree (left) 

 Red Maple (I think) bark 

 Red Maple (I think) leaves 

Red Maple (I think) tree

I had a really good time at Cox Arboretum (and we didn't do any writing workshops), so I think I'll just write about how my day progressed. When we arrived at the park, I immediately began to appreciate the sharp contrast between what I was seeing and the nearby suburban sprawl. The tall grass around the park entrance sign seemed more full and green than any other grass I had ever seen, so it captured my gaze for a long time. Stepping off the bus, I notice a group of geese waddling near a pond. Two parents leading their children along, all still wearing their down feathers on the outside. It was cool to see a group of very young beings experiencing the world, completely new to them. I can only imagine how they were interpreting what they were seeing. I walked towards the main area, nestled between two ponds and surrounded on one side by terraces covered in a wide variety of labeled plants. At first, when approaching the terraces, the smell of Spring plants is quite strong, but I got used to it quickly. I stood atop the Monet bridge, an arced bridge spanning a small stream connecting two ponds, and stared at the water for a while. The longer I stared, the more turtles I noticed floating near the surface, occasionally poking their heads above the water. I wonder if the turtles know they're in a closed-off pond, and if they even care. I'm not really an animal rights activist, but it felt weird realizing the turtles have spent their entire lives living in one small pond. 

A turtle 

I walked to the top of the aforementioned terrace, just wandering at this point, until I notice a pretty cool wooden tower poking out of the top of the treeline. I catch up to Matt, a friend of mine (see the Ginkgo tree) and assistant to the class, and agrees to head to the top of the tower. The tower was a pretty dominating structure, so, of course, most students headed for it first. Matt and I were the first to reach the tower, and quickly ascended to the top. 

Looking up from the base of the tower at the many flights of  beautifully crafted stairs

The tower was surprisingly high and offered a wonderful view of the surrounding areas. With good visibility, you would probably be able to see down the Miami River all the way to Downtown Dayton. Few heights I classify as dizzying, but looking straight down from the top at the brick sidewalk below made me dizzy. I enjoyed the quiet at the top, listening to the far-off rustle of leaves until the rest of the class showed up, bringing much noise with them. Sadly, they found the electrical outlets at the top more interesting than the awe-inspiring view. 

Panoramic view (about a quarter of the entire view) from the top of the tower

Descending the steps, we decided hiking the trails through the woods would be fun. Walking away from the tower towards the woods, we encountered a beautiful set of four or so absolutely massive cottonwood trees. I was amazed. I remember thinking that these four trees could have been the inspiration for the entire arboretum, they were so beautiful (see tree pictures). Matt and I soon found the path into the woods and hurried down towards a creek, swatting at bugs the whole way. We came to a bridge at the bottom of some wooden stairs and noticed another set of stairs ending in the creek. Of course, we decided to explore the creek, first by walking up it. The whole creek was covered in large rocks, some forming high shelves. The creek was very dry, allowing us to move easily rock to rock up and down the creek. We noticed the rocks had a huge number of fossils in them, from lanky pieces of coral to wide, curved shells. We occasionally came across small pools of water, almost always seeing large frogs dart away into them as we approached. Descending the creek back toward the wooden staircase, we passed under the bridge and continued on, not a chance we would go without seeing the bottom. 

Rocky creek bed just past the wooden staircase into the creek

As we descended further down the creek, the banks of the creek began to rise higher and higher. At their highest, I think they reached about 50 feet or so. This made me think of the part of the Lord of the Rings when the Fellowship is floating down the river Anduin out of Lothlorien at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring and the banks seemingly never stop rising. LOTR is my favorite book series, so any place that reminds me of a location in the book must be cool. We noticed that the fossils in the rocks increased in number as the creek went down the slope. When I was really young, I spent a lot of time collecting rocks with fossils like these, so this walk was pretty nostalgic. Eventually, the trees opened up to a wide prairie, on the other side of which sat I-75. This meant we were ridiculously far away from the park, so we quickly jogged back up the creek. I felt really tempted to climb the bank at its highest point, so that's exactly what I did. I love doing stuff like that. My feet could hardly grip the steep mound of loose dirt, so I grabbed onto the base of the occasional honeysuckle plant for stability. Reaching the top gave a great sense of accomplishment. Matt soon followed, and at the top was a crude walking trail which led back to the main area of the arboretum. Exploring an unfamiliar place like this is comparable to nothing. 

Now back at the main area, I grabbed my lunch and sat on a bench a little away from the others, hoping to listen to some music and enjoy the scenery. When I'm enjoying nature, there is a specific artist I really like listening to; Andy McKee. He uses a single acoustic guitar to develop complex rhythms by drumming, strumming, and picking. His songs are inspired by nature, one of them titled Ouray, a beautiful town in the San Juan mountains of Colorado in the shadow of Mount Sneffels, a monstrous, dominating hunk of rock with the name of a cat. Anyway, long story short, I sat and ate my lunch while listening to some good music and it was great. 

Mount Sneffels

My view from the lunch bench. What's cool about this is that all these baby trees will eventually grow up to be massive dogwoods like the ones mentioned earlier. That would be cool to see. 

Here are links for the two songs I listened to during lunch. Please listen, these songs are great, they are surely worth checking out (Drifting has a sweet video to go along with it):

Ouray - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98VcXcEDnc8 

Drifting - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ddn4MGaS3N4 

Following lunch was an outdoor yoga session with the same instructor, which was pretty cool. I'm not very interested in yoga, and I was pretty much incapable of doing most things correctly, but it was pretty relaxing. This has definitely been my favorite day of the class so far, and I look forward to more similar days.