Nature Blog BST

Out my front door in England, I could walk about one hundred yards down to the backyard of a close friend, and, through a convenient back gate, enter into the moors behind the house. The moors were a massive expanse of beet fields that separated our village, Fordham, from the next closest, Isleham, to the south. About three miles of flat expanse filled the space between, full of beets and barley. In late October, combines would cross the beet fields like green caterpillars, devouring the crops before them and spitting them out into giant piles, growing out of the landscape like the boroughs in the surrounding area rumored to be the graves of old celtic kings. Each year when this happened, the neighborhood kids would get together in bands of eight to twelve, and play King of the Beet Hill, whether it be free-for-all or equal teams.             This contest was no mere child’s game though; the beet piles, enormous as they were, wer...

In past journal entries I have mentioned my grandfather’s house and the James River, in Richmond, Virginia. Some of my most memorable interactions with nature occurred in or on this river, looking up the hill towards the house, waving and hoping my dad or sister could see me through the telescope or binoculars. We used to drive down to the river and park in a little lot. The James River in Richmond is right on the “Fall Line”, which is a geographic lines running up and down the east coast, the line that meant ships could go no further up the river, as it ceased to run in ways advantageous to shipping and trade. Usually at the fall line are the deposits of great rainstorms, namely giant boulders which trap dirt and allow some plants to grow in the middle of the river, creating habitats of rivergrasses and small islands, often inhabited by Canada geese in the summer. The James River is full of these giant boulders, and as the river can be quite quick the way I played on them was by ju...

Yesterday I made it to one of the seven wonders of Texas, the Enchanted Rock. No one knows who first called the Rock enchanted, either the native Americans or settlers as they came into Texas. However, the giant granite dome was most likely characterized as enchanted because of its nightly apppearance, the water in numerous pools on its surface reflecting the moonlight, giving the structure a celestial glow despite its pink hue in the daylight. The sun was out and the weather was fine climbing the rock. Only 2/3 rd of a mile from base to summit, the dome of the Rock itself is more difficult to climb than I had originally believed. The grade of the incline can at times be 40 degrees, and I would have been wise to equip myself with hiking boots as opposed to the tennis shoes I wore. The rock face was slippery in places, but more fascinating than the smooth spots were the giant slabs of granite that, despite not being attached to the dome face, did not slide down the steep grade. Held...

The early morning has always been my favorite time in Texas, primarily because of the smell. Something about the morning air, especially in summer, is distinctively Texas; I would know it anywhere. If I were vacationing anywhere in the world, and was transported while asleep unbeknownst to me back to Texas to awake in the morning, I expect I should know my surroundings by their smell. There is something about it, when the sun has yet to broach the horizon, or just has, something about the lightness of the air before heat is added to it. It smells like a stream on a ranch you haven’t ever seen, but know is there because you and the dogs can smell it a quarter mile off. It speaks of the coolness of the night and the remembers with fondness the 180 degrees of starry night sky, while carrying a sense of foreboding about the heat of the day to come, and the radical transformation it will undergo before the sun sinks once again out of sight. If the day was overly hot, it may be that the nig...

I believe the Magnolia tree is, by far, the most pleasing and greatest of the arbolean species. The magnolia tree is first of all a staple of southern gardens; it grows large, and its leaves are broad and thick, shading one from the sun extremely well. When touring the White House this summer, as you look out of the red room towards the Ellipse and the Washington Monument, you can look down and see a red brick patio and wrought iron chair and table, all shaded by a venerable magnolia, whose branches have snaked outwards so far they need support by means of thick cables stretching inwards to be anchored at her trunk. The branches of the magnolia are another phenomenon. An older magnolia that has not seen any pruning will resemble, not a tree, but rather a bush of 50 feet tall, as its branches sprout immediately from the truck, and stretch primarily straight outwards, like spokes from the hub of a wagon wheel. Its leaves grow dense and, as mentioned earlier, are more opaque than other...

This past excursion to the Nature Center went a little differently than they had before. We arrived and knew Dr. Williams to be absent from the center that day, and per our instructions made our way to our section of trailhead. As we surveyed the trail for debris, and wondering how far back was too far back to cut the privet, we heard Cameron approaching. After making it back to collect some tools, we headed back onto the trail with a guide named Michelle. Michelle explained we did not normally see her at the center because Tuesday was normally her day off, but she had attended a wedding the week before and needed to make up a work day. It turned out that Michelle’s workday turned into our lucky day. As we walked, Michelle began to ask us what we had learned about the flora and fauna around the center, and on the trail. I believe she assumed we were a bit more knowledgeable about our surroundings, maybe thinking we were working with an environmental science class or a botany class. ...