A Family Trip to America’s National Parks

Towards the end of my early childhood, my family decided to make a trip around America and see several of its national parks. My father, mother, sister, and I enjoyed several smaller trips in the past. We must have spent about a collective month beforehand catching large-mouth bass, pulling campers across the highway while slowly losing the feelings in our legs, guiding our dog Webster, a Springer Spaniel, as he ran manically through the woods, making s’mores over campfires, and many other activities associated with family camping trips. This trip, however, was much more interesting.

Planning for a two-week long road-trip from Grand Haven, Michigan, which included extended stops at Yellowstone National Park, The Badlands, and Mount Rushmore, we packed the car to the roof. Webster laid comfortably, wedged between a stack of sleeping bags. To pass the time on the road, I read and played game boy –Super Mario Brothers. After of few days of hotels and clear blue skies over open road, we reached the West.

By coincidence, Sturgis, the gathering of the bikers, was taking place. We passed thousands of motorcycles. It seems we weren’t the only ones who thought of enjoying a warm summer among some of the most scenic locations on Earth.

We finally reached Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. I remember it looking a little smaller than I would have expected, though impressive nonetheless. The construction of this monument took decades of skilled use of dynamite, chisels, and more. Nearby is a second and unfinished monument, “Crazy Horse,” dedicated to a Native American warrior. Beginning in 1948, work continues to slowly progress to this day. As eyes gave upon such structures, they may implant the values of dedication, planning, and skill.

Soon after, we reached the Badlands of South Dakota. Containing seemingly boundless grassy prairies encased by medium sized mounds of visibly weathered rock, walkways on wooden planks snaked throughout. Off the beaten path, you could dare to face rattlesnakes. We took our chances. It was very dry and the sun baked from above, but the family continued making many new visual memories. After a long hike, we called it a day. For the night, we stayed in a nearby campground. Rabbits darted across the barren grounds into small holes. One of them may have been a legendary “Jackelope,” a rabbit with antlers; frequently mended by taxidermists for the local gift shops. The sun set over a red horizon.

The next stop was the grand finale. We finally reached Yellowstone, easily the most scenic and impactful trip of our lives. On the way, narrow roadways leading into small cliffs kept drivers on edge. Flimsy foot-high railings and a few feet of dirt road were all that separated us from untimely doom. I was terrified. It was probably the scenic route. Making it through, we put our things away at the camp spot. Within a short drive to one of the most crowded locations in Yellowstone was “Old Faithful” and several other natural formations.

Geysers are a release point for the Earth’s deep processes. Through time, this phenomena moves continents and spews water and chemicals from beneath. Being as lucky as we were, we witnessed a massive burst of steamy vapor from a geyser that was estimated to erupt only once every two weeks. It was quite the show.

Throughout the area, bison filled the fields and roadways. At one point they passed our car. Young and old galloped in random paths. Buffalo “pies” were seen every few feet. They are impressive creatures. Bison’s great size and tendency to live in large numbers makes me wonder if they would be tolerated outside of such parks.

Saying goodbye, we went home from a well enjoyed vacation. I will always remember the beauty of this part of America. The National Parks were created to keep America beautiful, to provide great places of recreation to those who don’t have the money to own millions of acres of land, and to prevent the exploitation of these great locations that would ruin them for future generations. Overall, seeing the great parks helps plant the seed of environmentalism in young minds. If I had never left the city, I may never have considered the value of the Earth’s natural resources.

Gardening is for Everyone!

Since the Industrial Revolution and the consolidation of agribusiness into fewer and fewer corporations over the last few hundred years, the average person has become increasingly disconnected with the food they eat. Throughout my childhood, food was nothing more than something to keep me going, picked up at a local store or drive-through. I didn’t consider were it came from, how it was made, who made it, or what animal it may have been from. As I would learn several years later, ignorance is bliss.

To reach greater profits to please stockholders and greed, corporations study the most efficient ways to produce food. In addition, they often act unethically and without consideration for sustainability. What combination and quality of preservatives, pesticides, genetic modifications, work conditions for humans and animals, government infiltration, deceit, water quality for the food and left for the surrounding community, growth hormones, cage layout, livestock feed, and cleanliness will maximize profits? The soil may become un-farmable, creatures, like bees, may go extinct (possibly diminishing the variety of our food supply), eventually leading to a food crisis of biblical proportions, but we need to make more money now. I’ll probably be gone by then anyway, or at least walled off in my ivory tower away from those poor, desperate peasants. It is no wonder the conditions of corporate farms are often kept secret and representatives of big corporations work hard to shape the law in big agribusiness’s favor; with filming of slaughterhouses being a crime in some regions of the United States, even if illegal activity is exposed.

You’re unlikely to drop dead from eating some of this stuff, but it is likely your body won’t function as well as it should. Unfortunately, you won’t know how you should feel until you’ve experienced it from eating and living well. While some of it may be attributed to the placebo effect, when beginning to watch what I eat I felt a noticeable improvement in my mental being and bodily health.

With the high cost of healthy food, you have to get creative on a budget. Thus, four summers ago, I decided to learn about small scale farming. I soon began digging up a medium sized (ten by fifteen feet) patch of residential dirt, one rooted square of grass at a time. A thrust with the shovel through thick grass, commonly crossing tree roots, uncommonly a rock, forcing the spade through about one half foot at about a six inch depth just beneath the grass roots, and lifting the square up, shaking out the dirt by hand (to not lose it) and tossing the husk of roots and leaves of grass to the side would earn you one square foot of garden space. Only one-hundred more to go. I learned first-hand why machines are typically used for such activity. Finally, once the area was dug up, I began loosening the dirt with a “scrape-‘e’ rake” before evenly distributing it throughout. Mixing in some compost and dead leaves for fertilizer, I shaped seven evenly spaced longitudinal hills across the ten foot width of the garden. The idea is to plant the seeds or pre-grown plants evenly spaced at the top, so that they would not drown in a puddle or be weathered as easily from the soil by winds and water pressure, and to have space for the crop to spread in its early stages. If the crop’s foliage or fruits touch the ground, it will be much more likely to catch diseases, get eaten by bugs, and die.

For my first attempt, I decided to plant seeds for two rows of spinach and one row of lettuce, and purchased plants of three tomato, one cilantro, two cucumber, one banana pepper, and one green pepper. Carefully digging the fraction of an inch depth necessary for each seed with the tip of a pencil, I dropped two for each hole, one as a backup, and patted the small amount of dirt back overhead by hand. I then continued for the three rows repeatedly at the recommended spacing between seeds. For the plants, I simply dug the recommended depth and plopped the plant it, shifting the displaced dirt back over into the hill formation. The last step was to add a layer of leaves around the plants and seeds to reduce the rate of moisture loss.

Throughout that summer, with regular watering and upkeep, which included plant trimming, crop removal and enjoyment, and the addition of a five-foot tall fence and a top net to keep away the hordes of deer looking for an easy meal, I had mixed results. The spinach, tomatoes, and cucumbers did very well. More than enough for a few people to have regular meals consisting of each—despite the amount that may have been lost to hungry deer. With this success, the tomato plants, supported by stakes, grew up to six feet tall, unable to support their own weight of dozens of tomatoes and branching stalks. One eventually collapsed to the ground, almost completely severing its base stalk. Tying supporting string in an attempt to aid natural mending processes, like a cast on an arm, the plant recovered and continued to provide tomatoes. The cucumbers thrived as well, climbing and filling out nearly the entire fence, bending it to the ground, and filling up nearly one third of the surrounding space. Up to one-hundred cucumbers grew. So much that I had to give many of them away. With this kudzu-like growth filling all the surrounding space, the other plants were cut off from most of the sun and produced only a few peppers and bits of cilantro.

Continuing these activities for the next three summers, I gained experience and farmed more efficiently. I learned what it takes to get the food to your fridge and how delicate farming can be. One unexpected event can bring a total loss. All you can do is prepare for each envisioned scenario.

Once the initial garden is planted, I needed only to set aside about ten to thirty minutes a day to maintain it. If groups of people come together to start community gardens, this burden can be minimized as the scale of growth is increased to significantly reduce dependence on purchased foods. With the addition of small scale animal husbandry, like chickens, for community gardens, animal products can be obtained as well. With just a little bit of work and cooperation, we can all begin to eat better, challenge the existing agriculture culture and law, and live better, healthier, and longer.   

Undisturbed Nature and the Destructive Hand of Man

Throughout the first few years of my life in Michigan, I frequented the surrounding natural world. Lucky enough to have a small, but private, woods behind my house and several pine forests within bike distance, I got to enjoy many short walks through the woods. I would frequently observe the local flora and fauna, climb trees, and discover what other travelers had left behind.

As these woods were surrounded by settlements, trash and various other human remains marked the territory. The occasional tree house, discarded lumber and nails, and bottles were left by careless people without a second thought. These people failed to consider that this trash would continue to sit and slowly decompose for many hundreds to thousands of years.

In addition, with “progress,” the surrounding blight continued to grow. In the neighborhood I lived in for around ten years, house after house was built, with any forest previously in a house’s place destroyed; a few more square acres of the natural world was  gone. It may never return to how it was, even if mankind were to suddenly vanish.

One such formerly natural lot I enjoyed was thick with pine trees. Salamanders were easily found under every other rock and fallen branch. This world was lost. I don’t remember seeing a single salamander within a few years following the construction of a house. This was just the beginning.

In the early years I explored my neighborhood, I also used to enjoy a small pond in the woods, just off a small side road. It was full of frogs, hopping away with haste on my approach, and their tadpole spawn within every few square inch. Taking in more, I could easily spotted small fish, dragonflies, grasshoppers, as well as an abundance of Michigan wildflowers and lily-pads. I would often try to catch a frog, rarely succeeding, and settle for a few grasshoppers instead. Just being a part of such activity was great. But, alas, as human development furthered, the land was privatized, cordoned off, and developed into yet another house in front of my beloved pond. I was never able to visit it again. It is likely drained and gone.

Within the first few years of my time in Michigan in the newly constructed neighborhood, proximal wildlife was common. Every summer I would see turtles crossing the street, birds, bats, and squirrels all over, and thousands of caterpillars crossing the walk paths and streets. In human’s collision with this natural world, which has existed long before man, thousands of caterpillars never became butterflies and instead were crushed under passing tires. In addition, many turtles never reached their destinations, blocked by what must appear to them to be mysterious and very large square growths and drained swampland. Untold numbers of potential insect and reptile progeny were lost. Worse yet, this neighborhood of mine was just one medium-sized development of a few hundred people. Extrapolated to the entire human population, it is clear why one of the greatest extinction events in history is ongoing. To end this destruction, a balance must be found and executed. We must learn to live in harmony with other life.

The Wonder of Wildlife Watching

I enjoy watching wildlife in its natural state. Deer passing through a field into a pine forest, a strange new bird landing outside of your window, turkeys crossing the street; these are a few examples of life living alongside ourselves, which I witnessed over the past summer. I was lucky enough to live in an area in Norton Shores, Michigan, surrounded by forests, beaches, open fields, and Lake Michigan.

Living day by day, I would often forget the simple joys of life. Many people go weeks or years without letting their minds wonder beyond human civilization. Throughout history, as technology developed, it seems we have slowly lost touch with the Earth which sustains us. In those little moments where you slam the brakes as fifteen deer bolt across the highway you are traveling on the way home after a long day, you may consider a new perspective. These moments when you encounter nature may even inspire you to venture out to your local park or beach.

The popularity of having a pet, maintaining a garden, or even keeping chickens may be a response to our ingrained desire to connect more deeply with our natural world. Nature lifts our spirit. Spending time outdoors, absorbing sun rays, hearing the ring of insects—spending time among simpler life away from flickering digital screens—has personally been one of the best ways I’ve found to make the most of a day and recharge my spirit. 

I find I am at my worst when most disconnected from this natural world, for example, if I spend day after day indoors, only seeing the sun when I reach the car and a destination. Simple taking a walk in the woods reminds me there is more to life than my desk.

My advice is to go outside and enjoy it and forget about your daily struggles when you can. Maybe you should start a garden, take your dog to the beach for a walk, or simply enjoy observing anything out there.

One summer day, “out there,” I walked the beach with my dog as I watched the sun slowly set. The wet sand crumbled under my feet. The tide gently flowed, carrying driftwood from unknown shores. How long has this mass of carbon been floating around? How much of it has been lost as it has decomposed over the years? Do some of its fragments drift hundreds of miles away or sit under thousands of feet of water? Where did the tree it belonged to grow? How long did it live and what life forms depended on it? Every plant or animal has a story. We are all connected with everyone and everything.

Living with these realizations, I may begin to think and act differently. What can I do to help? Maybe I could choose to live more sustainable. Consider what and how much waste results from the choices we make, and how much energy it takes to produce and transport these choices. Are heavy pesticides or chemicals used to produce what I eat or buy? Will these materials decompose in a reasonable amount of time or remain in a landfill for thousands of years? If we all begin to make better choices, we may make a better world for ourselves and our descendants. 

The Beauty of Lake Michigan

For more than half of my life I have lived within ten minutes of Lake Michigan. It has been a great source of relaxation, beauty, and awe.

The first summer in Michigan I spent several days at the beach in Grand Haven. Bright sand, rushing waves, and water as far as the eye can see, which is fourteen miles, took my breath away as an eleven year old boy. I had never seen anything like it before. I had just moved from Iowa, where I saw only small lakes.

The fall brought cooler temperatures and dangerous waves to Grand Haven State Park. One fall, when I was in middle school, several young men were swept off the pier and drowned. In response to the drowning, a mother of one of the sons and her concerned family petitioned to have a buoy station installed. The family also petitioned Grand Haven to institute a safety program. Both measures were adopted by the city. Though deadly dangerous, the fall scenery of Lake Michigan is beautiful, with dark, low clouds and high waves.

Winter brought the waves to a halt. Wave formations froze in place. You could climb solid blocks of water and walk over Lake Michigan before it got too deep and the ice began to loosen up. The ice formations were spectacular, but I felt a little bit of fear of it breaking and my plunging into the icy waters below.

As I was learning to drive at sixteen, I passed Lake Michigan many times. It brought some relaxation to a stressful situation. I did not catch on to driving easily. The lake and sky above it, rolling peacefully in summer sunlight, calmed my frazzled nerves. Whatever I was doing, the lake was always there, just how I left it.

I changed, but the lake remained the same. The lake has been there since the last ice age. Glaciers melted over what is now Lake Michigan 130,000 years ago. In geological time, a human life is like a second. It is awesome to consider what the lake has endured. Seven hundred ships have floundered and sunk in Lake Michigan since the 1600s. In Muskegon’s history, native forest lumber was taken across the unpredictable waters in ships to build Chicago’s skyscrapers. Now there are modern machines, such as motor boats and jet skis, skimming across the lake. It is the same lake, but a new population with more advanced technology dominates the surface, the ecological life, and resources within and about the lake.

The new technology poisons the lake with petroleum and other chemicals. These chemicals threaten to change the balanced ecosystem within the span of one geological second. This great lake and all of its benefits, for its own sake and the sake of all life on the planet, must be protected. The lake supports our shared existence on this planet by regulating temperature and providing rain. It also provides beauty and inspiration to generation after generation of lake watchers like me.

A Walk along the Grand River

Passing through downtown Grand Rapids, the Grand River created a nice contrast between the man-made city buildings, reaching many stories high, and the natural world. As I left my apartment, I faced the afternoon rush of traffic with horns honking and engines revving. I passed concrete building after building, until suddenly I reached a path winding about the river and over several bridges.

There was a gentle breeze. The carefully arranged flowers and reeds planted along the banks of the Grand River swayed along the clean cement path and fresh cut bright green grass. I was a reminder that I was not truly away from the hand of man. People had planted the foliage in carefully arranged patterns. There was still a little natural disorder in the plants in late summer. Green shoots were turning maroon and wilting.

Seagulls screeched above the rushing river. The birds were scanning the waters for fish, like the many fisherman poised on the bridge with their poles and a trunk full of fishing gear. As I walked over the Pearl Street Bridge, I spotted rock formations crafted by people: a peace sign and a smiley face. Seagulls used these man-made formations as a perch to help their scavenging for fish.

As I looped around the city, back toward the path, I spotted a cluster of insect nests across from TGI Friday’s. Their nests looked like half-pea size circles of foam surrounding single pine needles. Some of the foam stuck to my fingers as I touched it.

Leaving the insects alone, I continued and looped back across another bridge toward the fish ladder. It was full of carp, some of which appeared to be several feet long. These big bottom-feeders were surfacing in hopes of getting food from passing travelers on shore. These fish may have lived in the city their entire lives. They grew and thrived here, even though there’s trash scattered about and the water may be poisoned from urban runoff. Carp are resilient fish.

Mallard ducks have also adapted well to city life. On the banks of the Grand River, these colorful “quackers” were resting under the Pearl Street Bridge as semis drove across and rattled the buttresses. The ducks blissfully ignored the racket and enjoyed their day on a mound of sand under the bridge. Pairs of colorful males and brown females rested together.

The walk around the Grand River provided me with a view of artificial, man-made and natural, plant and wildlife sites. This walk about the river made me consider how man and nature can co-exist in balance. The plants and animals can survive with some interference from people, as long as it’s not totally destructive. Cities should be designed around balance with nature, because nature can restore our spirits.

  

Home

Our experiences throughout life affect our perceptions, attitudes, and beliefs. Where we grew up, the people we knew, the places we lived and traveled, and what we did all build who we are. I started the first eleven years of my life in Cedar Falls, Iowa. A fair sized city by comparison to a typical Iowan town. Home of the University of Northern Iowa, the Panthers. An area full of parks, streams, playgrounds, kids running free without supervision, I was one of them, an area I recall my parents saying was stuck around twenty to thirty years in the past. Yes, many of us played video games indoors, but my friends and I spent the majority of our time smashing sticks against tree-monsters, racing twigs down makeshift streams, across an entire block during torrential downfall, barefoot, and in soaked t-shirts; climbing into cow enclosures, and summarily running for your life, and onto the roof of our houses conveniently accessible from a nearby tree – the bark peeled off by shoe-sole, and branches snapped throughout. Trees, plants, and wildlife were plentiful. The street intersecting was even fittingly named Tremont.

The tree-monster of Tremont Street. It was created by carefully wrapping and contorting four trees together over the course of their growth.

We didn’t think about germs, catching a cold, murderers and kidnappers at every corner – we ignorantly enjoyed every day to the fullest, much like how my parents and others of their generation grew up before cable news scared everyone to their homes behind locked doors. This was just before the boys in black and/or blue began to occasionally arrest little girls for lemonade stands (at least we didn’t hear about it) and take notice of kids for walking home from school alone, without a socially acceptable escort.

These idyllic days then ended abruptly. I moved to Michigan at eleven years of age. This is not to say the joy completely ended, it was just a new chapter in my life with new people, places, and experiences. A beautiful area, full of many public woods and beaches to enjoy. As nice as the nature is, I experienced a lot of culture shock that has its effect on me to this day. Most kids played inside. I rarely saw my neighbors or friends after High School started. People seemed to value consumption above all else, buying a basketball hoop to keep up with the Joneses. I recall nearly every neighbor purchasing a basketball setup after our family set up ours, to rarely see any of them used. Finely cut green grass, speed boat and sea-dos, identical square foliage next to every door. In response to this new culture, I retreated into my own interests and school work. I don’t recall thoroughly reading a book or working on a homework assignment outside of school until a few years after this time, at about age thirteen. This eventually led to me going to The University of Michigan, and then today, Grand Valley State University. In many ways change was good, but I wonder how things may have developed differently, what choices I would have made, had I never left my original home.

Introduction: Reflections on Nature and Blogging

Hello everyone! My name is Owen Dunn and I am starting out my first semester here at Grand Valley State University as a transfer student in Computer Engineering. My schedule is packed full of three hour labs and their following reports, math, physics, circuit analysis, programming, statistics, and more, that will keep me busy 24/7 – so reading about adventures in the woods and thoughts on nature, that I see far too little, is a nice, brief hallucinogenic escape.

I understand that no matter how busy you are, you have to make time for the simple pleasures in life. Staring up at the dusk sky to take in a low, rumbling storm – feeling the gentle wind ripple your sleeves, accompanied by an almost indiscernible drizzle dropping on your head – calms me, makes me think I’m going to be okay. Taking moments to just walk and think can be very helpful. Personally, it’s the best condition to think about the big picture logically. They say don’t sweat the small stuff. I like to take a walk around campus at least once a week with the purpose of planning out the week ahead and thinking about my past, present, and future in relation to the previous week. What do I really want out of my life? What should I change to make the most of the time I have? Most of all, it’s just a good mental recharging activity.

Throughout a series of weekly blog posts at this location, by every Friday at midnight, I hope to put some of the best thoughts and reflections I have made about the place of mankind and myself within this planet, hurling through infinite space.

I have enjoyed nature my entire life. From my childhood growing up in Cedar Falls, Iowa, and then to Grand Haven, Michigan, I have spent a lot of time walking though woods, fields, cow pens, chicken coops, gardens, crop fields, parks, and enjoying the local flora and fauna. Catching bugs, climbing trees, skipping stones, having campfires, and walking over thin ice were and are some of my favorite pastimes. Due to this wealth of past nature-relational experiences, I will probably write most of my posts thinking years into the past and what it may tell us about today and where we are going. I hope you enjoy.