Nature Video

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HOPE Walk

[December 2, 2018]

This past Saturday morning, I woke up at the sweet hour of 5 to go volunteer at the AIDS Outreach Center's fundraising 5k. For Chi Tau Epsilon Dance Honor Society I am the Senior Director of Community Engagement which means my job is to coordinate service opportunities for our members. Volunteering at this "HOPE Walk," sponsored each year by the AOC (our organization's chosen philanthropy), has become a Chi Tau tradition every fall. The 5k takes place along the Trinity Trail, beginning and ending with vendors, music, and festivities at a park on West 7th next to Chuy's. In the past, our assigned duties have amounted to passing out T-shirts, setting up tents, and manning the water stations. Usually we show up, do our part, and are out within a couple of hours; short and sweet but always nice to spend time one-on-one with the individuals who run the AOC. This year's HOPE Walk however turned into one of the most confounding and comical days of my life, but luckily, the day's events got me outside for an unexpected brush with Trinity Trail.

When I first arrived in the familiar park, it was still pitch black outside; it might as well have been eleven or twelve at night. I stupidly signed up for the 6am to 8:30am shift telling myself that "no, you'll go to bed early on Friday so waking up won't be a problem!" I knew I'd regret it and sure enough I did, but alas, arranging this volunteer opportunity was my primary job in XTE, so I knew I had to power through if I wanted the rest of the chapter to fulfill their obligations as well. I worked for about an hour with six or seven AOC employees to set up tables and tents. It was both a chilly and breezy morning so I had to tell myself to stop obsessing about the weather; it was what it was. Then, a cross-eyed man approached me in an AOC shirt and joggers and asked if I wanted to work the turnaround. I happily agreed, not knowing what that meant, but that I only an hour left of my shift so it couldn't be that bad! He followed with, "Great. That's my white van on the hill. Go hop in," and he took off -- not walking -- but running up the hill. I could not make such ridiculousness up. Running through a park after this stranger and towards his white van before the sun had even risen truly made me feel like I was living in a movie. I laughed out loud at the thought of what was happening.

Then, as if things couldn't get weirder, I opened the back door of the van and discovered there were no seats so I sat down on the floor and imagined this is what it felt like to be kidnapped, but somehow I wasn't really phased. We drove the length of the entire 5k out to "my post" where I was told to instruct runners to turn around and find their way back to the park. When I finally emerged from the window-less, seatless van I realized I was in the part of Trinity Park that is directly across University from the Botanical Gardens: a place I used to visit all the time with my friends. It was nice to be somewhere familiar, but be there for a reason so new. My friend in the van drove back to the starting line and there I was, all alone watching the sun rise slowly in the distance: a sight I don't often give myself a reason to view.

From my post, I could see the downtown Fort Worth skyline reflecting the rolling clouds and glaring in the light of the sun. I was standing on a concrete recreation path traveled by people on foot, on bike, on scooters, and on rollerblades alike. An asphalt parking lot filled with shiny cars lined the path for as far as I could see, smoke was emitted from the chimneys of many chain restaurants across the way, and the constant traffic on I-30 buzzed from overhead. A year ago, I would not have called this scene "nature" but I've come to believe that any interaction with a piece of the natural, outside world can be considered an interaction with nature. For also at my post I saw the river down below me, an abundance of trees across from me, and dancing clouds coloring the sky above me. I had an awkward job just standing there waiting. I had to look like an authority figure for the race participants to know where to go next, but not like a weirdo for regular people passing by on their Saturday morning stroll. I felt very awkward and also very alone.

I challenged myself to keep my phone on the ground the whole time, and endure the aloneness by my own devices. It all felt so unnatural. I wanted so badly to talk to the other people on the trail but I knew I couldn't distract them. There I stood, waiting patiently, and finally resolving to observe what all was natural around me. The natural world seemed so much more appealing than the cement and metal and other manmade materials that occupied my space. I hope that I can come back to this place and walk the path myself another day.

Nature Observation 3: Leaf

[November 14, 2018]

Today our class let out early so we could go outside and observe something in nature in close detail. It was quite cold so I was hoping to find something portable to bring back to the dance building with me for observation. As I walked along the sidewalks of campus, I felt somewhat disappointed by how brown and dead everything looked. It wasn’t that long ago that the grass was green and flowers were in bloom! After making a lap, I finally saw out of the corner of my eye a huge leaf that lay there in the grass, so much larger than the rest. It had a certain shine to its brown surface that I really loved. I found my piece of my nature and happily made my way back through the biting air to Erma Lowe Hall. When I got back in to the cozy lobby and sat down with my leaf I began trying to write its characteristics down in words:

From my wrist to the tips of my fingernails, the leaf is still longer than my hand, and about as wide. It has a thin but strong stem poking out on the bottom that has sort of a dusty texture when you rub your fingers along it. The leaf is not perfectly symmetrical but from the stem upwards, its edges proceed out away from each, round back in on themselves, and come together in a reverse V at the top. If I remember my high school biology class well enough, this leaf could be classified as “ovate” for its roughly oval shape and pointed end. Though I haven’t broken it yet, you can tell this leaf is perfectly crisp and would make a good crunch under your foot or in a leaf pile made for jumping. I bet I could snap a corner and break off a clean line but I won’t because I have to show my leaf off to all my dance friends!

The brown leaf seems to be kind of rolled over on itself in a variety of directions like waves frozen in time on the ocean. It seems that when the leaf fell from its tree it wasn’t laying flat or shriveled up the more it dried out. When you look closely at the top of leaf, you see symmetrical veins coming out from the center in a rounded V shapes. Up close you also see that the coloring is quite varied across the leaf with darker stains and lighter spots. The bottom of the leaf has a chipped triangular section that seems to be holding on by a thread. At the very top, the midrib is also tearing along the seam, but you can only tell when you angle the leaf a certain direction. Perhaps most notably, this leaf has three grayish white spots where the leaf seems to be rotting. These spots are irregular in shape and have a different texture than the rest of the leaf’s surface. The largest of the three spots has already become a hole wide enough to see through, with just the grayish white ring around its perimeter.

Just as I flipped the leaf over to begin taking note of its opposite side, two other girls walked in to the lobby and exclaimed “is that a leaf?!” I thought to myself, “yes what else would it be.” Then one of the girls picked it up and started describing how she thought the white hole looked like an eyeball, and the slit down the middle looked like a mouth, and the whole leaf looked like a fish on its side. Later, another dancer asked me if my assignment was to watch the leaf decompose because it was already so “rotten” and "ugly." And finally at the end of rehearsal that night, a third girl picked up my leaf and started to rip it apart because she didn’t realize I had brought it into the studio on purpose. I decided after each of these encounters it was time to return my leaf to nature…