Journal 8

Joe Hartshorn

Dr. Dan Williams

3 December 2017

Nature Journal 8

            My last journal of the semester details my experience this past weekend riding my bike around the Overton Park area nearby campus. I feel the theme of this semester of taking this course for me personally has been learning to slow down and appreciate the little things around me, both natural and in my interpersonal relationships. This newfound appreciation for the little things led me to desire to bring my bike to campus two weeks ago. I was visiting home and attending my brother’s final high school football game of his career, and had the idea to pick up my childhood mountain bike from home. I had never had a bike in my previous three years attending TCU, and had honestly never even thought about bringing it to Fort Worth to ride casually. This class has drawn me to spend more time outdoors when I can, even if it is as little as sitting on my backyard porch for an hour and relaxing after my classes on any given afternoon at my house off campus. Thus I recently felt the desire to ride a bike around areas near campus with the weather getting nicer and the trees turning color with fall upon us, and spend time in thought as I rode.

            I set off on my bike from my house near Paschal high school, and rode from there down Berry towards Overton Park. I hopped on the walking/biking trails that connect to Overton Park off of Berry, and immediately felt as though I wasn’t near TCU anymore. I don’t think I’ve rode a bike casually for pleasure since high school, so nostalgia also rushed my brain full of warming memories and positive energy. I never accelerated in a manner that felt taxing on my legs or even fast, rather I kept at a pace similar to gliding or strolling. The trees that resided overhead as I rode provided a wonderful shade that the rays of the sun peaked through, engulfing my body as well as the ground beneath me with a beautifully contrasting pattern of dark and light. The air was crisp as I rode, so crisp I could almost taste it. I haven’t wrote in much detail in my previous journals regarding my observations of the air around me, so today I spent a great deal of time contemplating the air that gently whipped my face as I rode through it.

            The air around me felt utterly perfect on this Sunday afternoon. It was about sixty five degrees outside and although it was now December, it finally felt like autumn in Fort Worth. As I rode my bike along the trails it felt as though I was carefully slicing through the air as if the air in front of me was a wall that could be cut through as smoothly as butter. While there was no apparent or considerable breeze outside at the moment, as I rode the air pressed against my face and the rest of my body as if a fan was blowing directly at me. The air was attempting to resist my forward movement but knew there was nothing it could do besides press against me with the disguise of a slight breeze. As I rode, I thought about how interesting it is that our society has quantified how the air outside feels with numbers and statistics. We have reduced the wondrous feeling of air into numbers such as temperature, humidity level, wind speed, etc. and that is all we leave it at. We don’t seem to stop and contemplate or discuss how the air outside makes us feel. Rather we tell others the temperature and allow ourselves to minimize our feelings to a number that simply signifies to us what clothes to wear on any given day. The air today felt crisp, comfortable, and content. The air on this beautiful Sunday afternoon made me feel so peaceful. I hope to continue this practice of stopping and examining how the air actually feels outside, rather than allowing a number to take this experience away from me.

Journal 7

Joe Hartshorn

Dr. Dan Williams

18 November 2017

Nature Journal 7

            For this journal I actually had the opportunity to spend some time in an environment much different than what I have been used to in Texas as I have reflected and honed in my nature writing abilities this semester. I spent this weekend in Phoenix, Arizona, as I flew out to visit a friend that goes to the University of Arizona. We met in Phoenix for a music festival called Gold Rush that we had wanted to attend. However this festival was only one day, so we had the chance to explore Phoenix on Saturday, November 18^th. I explained this course to my friend and suggested we spend some time hiking outdoors on Saturday afternoon. We did some research and decided to walk some trails at Papago Park on the outskirts of Phoenix. This state park was also home to the Phoenix Zoo and Phoenix Botanical Gardens, but we spent our time on the trails around these attractions.

            I had never been to Arizona before, so when we arrived at Papago Park I was surprised at the landscape we were suddenly engulfed in. I have always heard that Arizona is a lot of desert, but I didn’t realize that desert climates were so prevalent even in and around the large cities such as Phoenix. The land was flat with mountains off into the distance, however it was difficult to tell how legitimate these mountains were. I say this because Papago Park had random large masses of rock that appeared much more like huge rocks cemented into the ground than any sort of mountainous formation. What immediately caught my attention was that everything was red or brown-red at Papago Park. If I had to guess I might imagine Papago Park is what the planet Mars might have looked like if Mars was populated with vegetation. From the ground to the momentous rocks protruding from the ground, the entire landscape had a similar brown-red tint to it. The ground was primarily dirt of this shade, with grasses and brush slightly scattered atop the dirt. It seemed as though the dirt was strangling most of the life out of the vegetation coming out of the earth yet providing the vegetation just enough air to survive. Shrubs also rose from the red earth, and likewise weren’t full of life or greenery. These shrubs provided an appearance much similar to that of a stereotypical tumbleweed from cartoons. The branches of the shrubs were thin and scarce, providing many windows to see through the thick of each shrub. These shrubs added to the vibes of desolation and drought in this park. I’ve never been to a true desert before, and I had never been to Arizona before, but this landscape was what I imagined portions of a desert to look like. The entire park just felt dry. I had no idea whether there was any sort of drought in the area, or when the last time it had rained had been, but everything felt as if there was no water being provided to the area.

            The most interesting aspect of this desert environment was the presence of cacti. I had never seen such a large amount of cacti before in my life, let alone much cacti at all before due to the lack of cacti in the area I’ve lived my whole life. What an interesting plant the cactus is. I bent down and spent a few minutes examining a grouping of cacti and must admit the plant was awe-worthy. The cacti appeared so smooth in texture in between the thorns. I thought this was such a strange contrast from what a stereotypical cactus is thought to be: thorny, aggressive, rough. The cacti looked plastic up close, with a light green tint that was a sharp contrast from the red earth surrounding it. Previously I had never imagined desert landscapes to be beautiful or even pleasing to observe, but this Arizona environment was the exact opposite. I greatly enjoyed my hike full of reds, browns, greens, and the bright blue sky overhead, and would like to spend some more time in such a landscape in the future.