It’s a beautiful morning, as my group of friends and I wake up, we hear the pounding and the thrashing of the water slamming on the moss covered granite rock, I go down the eroded leaf covered pathway to fetch water just like I would do every morning, the sun had just begun to rise, the mixture of scarlet red, orange, and a bleach-like yellow beaming against the hurried water of the river that led into the waterfall shone like flakes of gold floating on top of the whitening water. The serene environment of the surrounding rocks overlooking the waterfall, the ambience of water clashing against the granite, and the aroma of the white pine filling the forest is an awe inspiring experience to all who dare make their way down the narrow and lengthy …show more content…
“Hot skillet moving! Hot skillet moving! Hot skillet down!”, I warn my friends in the immediate area. Upon removing my glove for further inspection of my burned hand, I notice the blisters beginning to form on my second degree burn. I sprint down to the river by the waterfall and shove my hand into the wind chilled mountain river water. The pain begins to subside from my hand after a short hour, but as soon as I remove my hand from the water, the inferno of the burn returns to my hand in an excruciating pain, therefore I plunge my hand back in to the comfort of the cold …show more content…
As if signaled by a conductor katydids begin their chirping matching the pitch of the birds in a minuet of the forest. My friends rush down the path to the falls to check on me and my hand, boots stomping and thumping with the crackle of the leaves beneath their feat, creating the percussion for the beautiful minuet. I close my eyes and imagine the conductor bringing all these obscure sounds together and making a lovely melody with the instruments of life. The familiarity of the woods, the natural urges my body has to be outside and be active in the setting that most people in today’s society only truly see in movies, if that, reminds me of other ventures into the woods, the citrusy smell of pine mixed with the smells of wild grasses and various flowers create an unmatched bombardment of scents. These scents stimulate the mind in a calming way unlike any medication or music ever could. The aroma of the forest sends chills down my spine, causing you to get the urge to explore and to absorb yourself in to the natural wonders the human body
The wilderness allows people to escape the crazy hectic lives they live daily and just unwind. Chris McCandless was “ unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart,” throughout his soul-searching journey in the wilderness (Krakauer 31). Many people like Chris will experience different sensations in the serene wilderness, however it calls
There is a serene moment when reading John Muir “A Windstorm in the forests,” that rushed through me. Which can only be described as a rush of emotions that one might face when returning home after traveling for so long. I feel that this response is so far harder to write than I could have imagined it to be because the forest Muir is describing within his story, within the Sierra Nevada is one that I grew up with. The same ones that I spent my summers and winter breaks at, I feel a slight struggle when trying to describe my response because I didn’t realize how much I miss all of that and how many of my memories are surrounded by that forest. Reading Muir story brought back the images of seeing stretches of land covered in an endless amount
Determining the seriousness and appropriate treatment of a burn requires its classification. Burns are classified according to three factors, the depth and number of affected tissue layers, the total percentage of the body surface that is involved, and the presence of homeostasis disruption or destruction such as respiratory distress, fluid loss, or loss of blood pressure control (Patton & Thibodeau, 2014). According to Mr. MacPherson’s appearance and symptoms, his burns are classified as second-degree or partial-thickness burns. The evidence for this diagnosis according to Patton and Thibodeau (2014), are his presenting symptoms of severe pain and the appearance of blisters, edema, and fluid loss. This type of bur...
I prepared myself for the upcoming adventurous day. I set out along a less-traveled path through the woods leading to the shore. I could hear every rustle of the newly fallen leaves covering the ground. The brown ground signaled the changing of seasons and nature's way of preparing for the long winter ahead. Soon these leaves would be covered with a thick layer of snow. The leaves still clinging to the trees above displayed a brilliant array of color, simultaneously showing the differences of each and the beauty of the entire forest.
The time spent there became more about meeting family friends and going to dinners. Almost four years passed before I returned to the memory of getting lost in those woods. It was a week before the start to my junior year of high school, and I was visiting my grandparents in Virginia. One morning, after a very early breakfast and a promise to return promptly, I walked outside toward the woods. I walked aimlessly, remembering the similar trips I used to make in the forest upstate. I saw a young kid, eager to dirty his hands with exploration of the tangible world. I was older now, and my summer had been spent exploring a possible career path by interning at a financial services firm. A sudden thought crept slowly into my mind, piecing itself together before my
Burns occur at an alarming rate. In the United States alone, an estimated two million people suffer from burns each year, and of those two million burn victims, about 500,000 people seek treatment for the burns and 40,000 people are hospitalized (“Facts,” n.d.). Most burn injuries happen at work or at home, with about 40% of all burns happening at home (“First,” 2011). Burn injuries cause about 300,000 serious injuries each year, and are attributed to the cause of approximately 6,000 deaths each year, making burns America’s third largest cause of accidental death (“Facts,” n.d.).
Have you noticed that we feel a powerful desire to connect with nature during difficult times? Whether we are injured, depressed or sad our inclination towards nature increases. Patients in hospitals recover faster if they are in a room with a nice view. Why? Because nature is so pure and powerful that can restore our spirits and heal our bodies and minds. The beauty of nature has been praised in art, poetry, writings and films. Naturalists, poets and writers have documented the many benefits of spending time in nature. "Calypso Borealis" by Muir and "I wandered Lonely as a Cloud" by Wordsworth are two great pieces of literature where our hearts are filled with an indescribable emotion. John Muir and William Wordsworth express their relationship
Stately pines towered over the wandering Little Meadow Creek. The stream was almost dry; many rocks revealed along the bank and rivulet bed. Be that as it may, Conrad Reed, a brazen 12-year-old, chose a Sunday in 1799 that he'd preferably angle in this shallow spot then go to chapel. As the kid sat tight for a nibble, he saw a yellow shake projecting from the water. It was an abnormal shake, dissimilar to the typical quartz and slate he found in the field. He pulled the stone from the stream quaint little innit home.
The tiles were still dirty from the residue of chlorine and pittle combined into one thick layer of impossible gunk. This gunk surrounded the edge of pool right where the water met the lowest part of the tile and was even apparent underneath the shallow water fountain around the back end. The ring had been worn away in spots where the missus had got so fed up that she was gonna put an end to this "ring of filth" once and for all. A few times she had started, but had always found a broken nail or straying hair to become spontaneously obsessive about when her arm got tired of scrubbing.
Her spry, Timberland-clad foot planted itself upon a jagged boulder, motionless, until her calf muscles tightened and catapulted her small frame into the next stride. Then Sara's dance continued, her feet playing effortlessly with the difficult terrain. As her foot lifted from the ground, compressed mint-colored lichen would spring back into position, only to be crushed by my immense boot, struggling to step where hers had been. My eyes fixated on the forest floor, as fallen trees, swollen roots, and unsteady rocks posed constant threats for my exhausted body. Without glancing up I knew what was ahead: the same dense, impenetrable green that had surrounded us for hours. My throat prickled with unfathomable thirst, as my long-empty Nalgene bottle slapped mockingly at my side. Gnarled branches snared at my clothes and tore at my hair, and I blindly hurled myself after Sara. The portage had become a battle, and the ominously darkening sky raised the potential for casualties. Gritting my teeth with gumption, I refused to stop; I would march on until I could no longer stand.
Being invited to a friend’s house the other day, I began to get excited about the journey through the woods to their cabin. The cabin, nestled back in the woods overlooking a pond, is something that you would dream about. There is a winding trail that takes you back in the woods were their cabin sits. The cabin sits on top of a mountain raised up above everything, as if it was sitting on the clouds.
We slowly crept around the corner, finally sneaking a peek at our cabin. As I hopped out of the front seat of the truck, a sharp sense of loneliness came over me. I looked around and saw nothing but the leaves on the trees glittering from the constant blowing wind. Catching myself standing staring around me at all the beautiful trees, I noticed that the trees have not changed at all, but still stand tall and as close as usual. I realized that the trees surrounding the cabin are similar to the being of my family: the feelings of never being parted when were all together staying at our cabin.
The water beats at the bank feel gently, and resides carefully to avoid over soaking it. The air is fresh and overwhelming with cool gushes of wind blowing past, provoking the trees to yawn and some times sleep. It was a lovely Valentine day and perfect for a picnic at Lake Lavon.
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...
The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.