Christian's Nature Blog

A few weeks ago, I was back in Nebraska for a weekend.   Just hours after I arrived, my parents and I sauntered through the neighborhood to check out the construction down the road.   As we turned around in the cul de sac, I had to stop to take a picture of the sky.   Of course, the picture does not do the scene justice, but it reminds me of the picture stored in my mind.   The picture prompts me to think and analyze about more than the surface.   The picture was taken in a place, Nebraska.   For me, though, it is not just Nebraska.   It is the place where I grew up, made best friends, played soccer, learned to wakeboard, and started understanding my identity.   More than what Nebraska provided me, I had a connection to the environment there, too.   For years, my brother and I worked landscaping and lawn care.   We were cognizant of the rain, wind, warmth, and weather because it affected how we cared for our yards. ...

The morning light slithered up into the elevated loft from which I slept.   Below the loft, bare windows created barrier only to keep bugs and other organisms outside.   Through them, however, light flowed in and heat escaped, replacing the warm air in interior of the cabin with damp, chilly air that instigated me to shiver as I unraveled the sheets surrounding me.   I slowly climbed down the latter to get down from the loft, careful not to wake the other sleepers.   I poked through my bag to find my shoes and a pair of shorts before wandering through the door that squealed as I allowed it to shut. The morning was crisp.   Quiet, too.   Maybe about 40 degrees, it felt still and motionless. Despite being filled with trees, the environment did not speak, but rustled as if it was about to wake.   Tightening up my laces, I noticed the bright red glow now present in my hands.   While the temperature was chilly (as my hands had determin...