My Nature Experience

Peaceful, serene, and gentle. These are the words that usually describe nature. But on October 6, 2007, that was exactly the opposite. There was laughter instead of peacefulness. There was garbage instead of serenity. Also, overall, my experience was wild, not exactly gentle.

When I first heard that we were going to the woods, I was excited. Not only did we get out of class for a while, we got to explore a little. We gathered into groups and headed past the library to the dark forest just ahead. The air was filled with laughter and conversation about sports and shopping malls, rather than silent observation. As we entered the endless green, we walked a short way, then found a ropes course. Constant chatter among my classmates disrupted the peace surrounding us. My friends were not as excited as I was when they learned of out afternoon expedition. Mostly, they stood still in one area and talked amongst themselves. I left them behind.

On the dense forest floor, there were scattered beer bottles and soda cans reminding everyone of possible party or gathering. They took away from my experience, as they tainted the serenity of the woods. I who had been there and tainted the image of the green bed. The sun gently smiled through the thick treetops as i wiped my eyes. A squirrel darted out of the bush behind the bottles and i began to wonder why someone, if they knew that animals lived there, would intentionally throw trash on the floor.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said:
"I dug my cellar in the side of a hill sloping to the south, where a woodchuck had formerly dug his burrow, down through sumac and blackberry roots, and the lowest stain of vegetation, six feet square by seven deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would not freeze in any winter. The sides were left shelving, and not stoned; but the sun having never shone on them, the sand still keeps its place. It was but two hours' work. I took particular pleasure in this breaking of ground, for in almost all latitudes me dig into the earth for an equable temperature. Under the most splendid house in the city is still to be found the cellar where they store their roots as of old, and long after the superstructure has disappeared posterity remark its dent in the earth. The house is still but a sort of porch at the entrance of a burrow."
Ralph Emerson loved nature. He would have hated to see the litter on the floor of his passion. The whole experience wasn't peaceful by any means. It was full of noise and thorns and other things. I didn't really get the full experience i wanted to out of it. Being a transparent eyeball means observing silently--meditating. Instead, my class and I were loud, not very observant. Now that I look back, I think I would choose to do more observing and less talking. Then, i could get the peaceful, serene, and gentle experience I was after.

"The BEAST!"

A memoir by Kevin Purdy

Ever had that moment when your heart skips a beat and you see some image in your mind? Just for five seconds, you see that moment in your mind and in the blink of an eye, its gone like the wind? In the summer of 2007, that's precisely what happened.

While on the way back from visiting my grandmother,who was weary and tired from a recent doctor's visit, Kevin, this seems a little redundant...were you coming home from grandma's house or from the doctor's office? and were you weary or was she? maybe break this up a little somehow. -Guitarmonkee05 9/6/07 6:07 PM my mother announced that she had a surprise for me and my brother. So, we pull in the parking lot of White Jones' Hardware. My first thought left me excited.

"A fishing rod?" I asked excitedly (we did have a fishing trip up to the mountains of Tennessee coming soon).

"You'll see soon, Kevin," she said with a mild laugh in her voice. Man, the suspense was doing a number on my nerves.

"There he is," mom said.

I looked around, confused because I didn't know the person my mother was referring to as "he". Then, my heart skipped a beat after tracing her eyes slightly to the left. The black paint shimmered brightly in my eyes. Finally, when the purple spots faded, I saw it as clear as day, though, I already had an idea of what it was. A big black Ford Explorer delivered a low roar from its 4.0L V6. Amazed, I stared, gazing at the beauty that was "The Beast".

Casey and I jumped out of our parents' Excursion to examine our not-so-new SUV. Two people, obviously not from around here, stepped out of the Explorer, and we shook hands. They seemed happy to finally find a potential buy for the car. They were from Oregon, judging by their accents.

Oblivious to the constant chitchat, I automatically jumped in and opened the hood of the car. My dad, who was also anxious to see the condition of the engine followed after me as Derek, the seller, stumbled of the technical specs of the car.

"New brakes...New Fram air filter," (WRONG! it was a K&N, which runs for about $40 for its high quality, Fram makes Oil Filters), "...new lift-gate supports."

The technical mumbo-jumbo that I am usually so fascinated with, faded to a dull whisper. Tammy, Derek's wife, talked to my mom while Derek and Dad conversed. Casey and I were debating about buying a CD player or a Flowmaster muffler first. Finally, Derek and Tammy left as soon as dad forked over the money, having had several second thoughts, of course. Dad took us with him for a test drive. When we got home, Casey and I examined the Beast with a fine tooth comb. We only found two things wrong with it: bald tires and a broken air conditioner.

I will always remember the day I got The Beast. I know when people ask what I drive, and I tell them, they say, "That's cool..." but you can tell they're not really impressed. No, it's not an F-350 by any means, but it's my car--my own car--and that's the best thing in the world to me.