My name is ‘s’ and I am a new contributor to the desert green goddess blog. I like to write about the marvels of Nature—from the grandeur of natural cathedrals like Bryce Canyon National Park to the, yes, uninhibited sexual encounters of the humble housefly. It is these wonders that engage my senses and motivate me to live the way I do. By living in a way that emphasizes my interdependence with Nature, I can better see the big picture of why I bother finding alternatives to plastic wrap or why I try to reduce my use of and properly dispose of household hazardous wastes. My heart cringes at images of children in poor countries washing in and drinking from the same water that contains garbage, toxins, and human/animal waste. I look at my own children, delighting in our clean, thriving rivers, and feel a renewed desire to honor and protect the land--the land that houses us, feeds us, clothes us, and enchants us. We live in a truly amazing world.
Take this photo, for example. When you first look down at the bank of the river, you see tree roots exposed by years of river erosion. Then you look closer. And you see the shape of the roots, the bleached color, the twist of the wood and the spider web catching the light. And then you think about spider webs and the fine craftsmanship involved and you recall that your son likes to share with others that, pound for pound, spider silk far out-performs steel in a test of strength. And then you notice how the afternoon sun bounces off the river rapids and swirling eddies. It’s beautiful.
My posts (somewhat inspired by SouleMama's simple "{right now}" style) will generally come in the form of a photo and a list of things that have me thinking, “This is why I do what I do.”
This is Why: Spring Break in the Canyon
. Sight—canyon trail, dusty in the open clearing, snow-covered or muddy in the shady evergreen forest, orange butterflies, chipmunks, birds, beetles, my children walking across a fallen log to perch on the boulder in the middle of the river
. Sound—whistling birds, staccato chirping of a chipmunk, rushing water pouring down mountain crevices during the spring snowmelt, voices of a couple of cyclists on the road, friendly conversation with another family on the trail, my children’s voices expressing the pleasure they feel in their surroundings
. Taste—trail snacks of rolls, pretzels, dried cranberries, raw almonds, and 2 little candies each
. Touch—“washing” our hands by rubbing gravel between them while pouring a little water from our bottles, the slipperiness of ice and the gooiness of the mud underfoot, the small, soft hand in my hand
. Smell—woodsy pine, fresh spring foliage, dampness
. Feel—gratitude to the father in the other hiking party (our Daddy had to work that day) who offered to carry my almost-3-year-old on his shoulders (to give me a break from having carried her on my hip most of the way up and half the way back), anxiety at balancing between careful, protecting parent and proud, encouraging parent as the kids teeter on the rocky river bank, peace in my head space brought on by natural sensory therapy, glad that the children only complain when it’s time to leave--they love the canyon trees, rocks, and river
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