Hello Class,
We are going to be switching focus in the next few weeks. We
will be talking more about landscapes and biogeography, rather than just
focusing on individual plants as we have been. So for this week I would like
for you all to write about a particular natural landscape that stands out in your
mind as being important, or having been memorable to you. Please describe the
vegetation and any sensory experiences of this location.
I will begin. I worked for a while in the Mojave Desert in
Southern California. The desert was so much vastly different from the
Southeastern deciduous forests where I grew up. The Mojave is barren, filled
with rocks and sand and shrubby vegetation. Unblocked by trees, the sky
stretched from horizon to horizon. The Mojave is covered with a small shrub
called creosote. Creosote bushes are small, shrubby, spindly things that smelled
sweet and powerful after a rain. Between the creosote shrubs, the bunches of
tuft grasses, and the succulent cacti grew the icons of the Mojave- the Joshua
tree. Joshua trees are different from all the trees I knew. Joshua trees are
spiny, sparse tree-like monocots. They are the only thing that grows above 5
feet in the desert, and dot the otherwise barren landscape. Between vicious
winds, sparse vegetation, and extreme temperature fluctuations the desert is a
hard landscape to like. It took me a while, but I came to enjoy to huge vistas
and defiant Joshua trees.
In the fall, my boyfriend and I drove up the Cherokee Scenic Mountain parkway to Caesars Head state park to see the vividly hued trees and shrubs. Growing up in South Florida, I had never experienced fall leaves until I moved to Athens and had yet to see the mountains in all their autumn glory. The day we went it as cold and misty, but the colors were unmistakable, and got brighter and brighter the further north we drove. I saw bright yellow tulip poplars and scarlet red maples. The ground looked like a carpet of color…so beautiful that the pictures I took can never even come close to accurately portraying the magic I experienced there. We stopped at a little park on the way out and sat by a stream of very shallow water rushing over impossibly smooth rocks. The sound of the flowing water combined with the wind rushing through the trees almost lulled me to sleep. I looked up and saw a hawk soaring high in the sky above me and I felt completely at peace in that place. Even though I was cold and damp from the misty rain, I felt more alive than I had in months as the sun finally decided to peak out from behind the clouds and warm my face with its gentle rays. Here are a couple of pictures from that day.
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One landscape that sticks out in my mind is that of the Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota and Canada. It is a vast area of thousands of lakes, and many are separated by only a short hike. As a destination for outdoor enthusiasts, the area is not developed apart from scattered clearings to be used as individual campsites. One such site, on Horseshoe Lake, stands out as particularly beautiful. A vast majority of the trees were evergreen, and pine needles created a soft cushion on the forest floor. There was very little undergrowth, shrubs, or even weeds. Large boulders added to the picturesque view, as we were on a small bluff peninsula looking out over the lake. The water was incredibly clear, especially when compared to our lakes back home in Iowa. I don't remember too much wind, and I don't believe it rained the week in June while I was there. Bugs, on the other hand, were a huge issue, probably due to all the standing water. All in all, I remember the Boundary Waters as an incredibly beautiful place, characterized primarily by the forests of pine-like trees.
ReplyDeleteMy family and I used to take day trips to the Highlands of Scotland. Since then, that landscape has stuck in my mind. I mostly grew up at the base of the Appalachian mountains in South Carolina, which differs from the highlands incredibly. I am used to mountains covered in trees. In the Highlands, it is mostly low growth plants, likely due to the strong winds that come in off the coast. The fact that the mountains often lay directly next to the coastline always fascinated me. In contrast with the mountains, there are also areas of rolling hills with pasture land containing highland cattle. The highlands are still close to my heart, and I hope to go back in the near future.
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I went to Israel over summer break, and I was really stunned by the desert landscape in the south. Most of the colors were dry, ashy, and grey. The land wasnt like sand dunes, it was harder packed and completely dry. There were some dramatic bluffs and cliffs. The plants were scarce and tiny, no cacti like you might expect in the desert, but some spiny shrubs every so often. Since the road I was traveling on was in the valleys between the mountains, I could see all the layers of earth that were stripped away. This was on my way to the Dead Sea, which was brilliant turquoise in the depths and met the shore with white hardened salt rocks.
ReplyDeleteMy sister and I take a trip up to Dillard, GA once per year, usually around Thanksgiving and we hike for several days on the Appalachian Trail that runs through the area. I love the forests in Georgia because, even when the trees are bare, there are several other living things moving or blooming. There are tons of pines that are so tall, you have to strain your neck just find the top. You can smell all the vegetation, and as weird as it sounds, I can always smell the dirt being pulled up the many streams running down the mountains. The soil is always very moist, so naturally, there are insects everywhere. I love when i reach a clearing in the trees and we can look down and see several mountains in the distance. After hiking for about 20 miles, I get a feeling of solitude because i no longer can here the sound of traffic or construction. All i hear is the sound of bugs flying and birds, and the rustling of leaves from the foxes and squirrels. Everything is green and brown, and every now and then, i'll run into a white flowering shrub.
ReplyDeleteA landscape that I find impressive is the coast of Cornwall in southern England. This spring I went hiking at Lands End, a beautiful place characterized by rolling green hills ending abruptly in bare rocky cliffs that drop into a clear aqua/blue sea. The cliffs almost look like they have been carved out by a giant spoon. The windy coast environment means that the plants are mostly grasses and shrubs so the hills are blanketed in green and brown, relieved by the yellow and purple of small wildflowers and here and there by fuchsia towers of foxglove. The hills are crisscrossed by walking paths and low stone fences and it is easy to find dips in the hills where you can look around and forget what century you are in.
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I've hiked in the Andes more than several time at this stage in my life. Three of those times were on my way to Machu Picchu... and these are the landscapes that stick out in my mind. Not only for their beauty but also for the fact that there has been 9 years that span from the first hike to the most recent and I've witnessed the environmental changes that have occurred in just those few years. The scenery at that altitude has the ability to humble you and put you in your place on this vast Earth. The grays, whites, and browns of a wind abused tundra and then dipping down after walking a couple hours or so and you are surrounded by green, water, and flowering plants. It gets quiet and calm as you get further and further into the area, your survival paired down to drinking, eating, and rest... those are the only cares you have when in the back country.
ReplyDeleteThe barrier islands of Georgia offer a wide range of landscapes and ecosystems - from flat hardwood and pine forests to hilly desert-like dunes and shorelines; dynamic live oak groves to vast marshlands. In particular, Cumberland Island holds a special place in my life because I grew up going there. It is 17.5 miles long and narrow island only a few miles off of the coast of the southern most tip of Georgia. Most visitors arrive at the most narrow part of the island - a 1/2 mile wide section just north of the island's marshlands and about three miles south of the shift to pines and hardwoods.
ReplyDeleteThe southern end is my favorite. When you step off of the boat, the calm bay water is behind you and you're greeted by enormous live oaks hanging over the shore with long clumps of characteristic Spanish moss draped on the winding branches. Beneath the live oaks are low-growing palmetto bushes. This creates a lush, tropical effect because the palmettos fan out into a dense looking undergrowth. The live oaks hang overhead making it shady with patches of sunlight and allowing for winding paths that feel very secluded. Walk about a half mile along the main trail and suddenly a wall of dunes arises. When you walk up one dune, the contrast is stark. You emerge from the shade of the live oaks into a completely new landscape: a sunny expanse of powdery sand dunes covered in stiff, prickly vegetation interspersed between patches of tall beach grass and trees that look old and gnarled. The dunes continue, gradually decreasing in magnitude until you reach the flat coastline, a wide sandy stretch that is generally uninhabited by people and reaches out to the Atlantic ocean.
There are wild horses on this beach, which makes it particularly magical. They travel in herds and love to sunbathe, protected from the wind by the dunes. Because the island is largely protected, there's lots of wildlife to be found there. Armadillos cross your path almost daily, often in the evening as the light is fading. Racoons will pillage your camp if you're not careful, and you can often hear them being sneaky in the middle of the night. There are deer too that have some genetic mutation that makes a rare few of them solid white. Another cool feature of the island is its history. If you deviate from the path and tromp/weave through the palmetto undergrowth you may come a cross an old shack or a chimney of an old house.
In other words, there's lots to explore and enjoy!
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This past October I attended the SEWHC in the North Carolina, Black Mountains. I decided to take the scenic route and drive though the mountainside to get there. As I drove I saw rocky mountain sides with beautiful houses built on their cliffs. There were tall trees with all of the beautiful fall colors, every shade of red and orange, canopies shading the road from one side to the other. Lots of white-tailed deer ran around in families. The landscapes shape itself is very different from where we live in Georgia. I was never going straight there was always a twist, turn, slope, or hill everywhere one after the other. And the forest were thick with lots of trees and vegetation, unlike a lot of forest here where you can see straight threw, it was like a wall with layers and layers of plant life and trees. Once I was at camp I looked out at the mountain I had driven though and it just looked like a massive hill of colors you could not see any of the houses of little towns of rocky terrain. Where we camped was in a valley within the mountains, there was a lake and a few flat areas. Cabins were built into the mountain side closest. During my stay I observed lots of plant life in the valley mostly wild flowers and wild herbs the area where we stayed. There was also a lot of wildlife freely roaming I woke up to a mama bear and four baby cubs in a tree near me which was quite an experience. As well as lots of birds flying overhead and living in the trees, owls were heard at night and many different types of fish, frogs and other pond insects and wildlife living and in and around the lake. I camped by the lake so I got to see a lot of that. The weather really stood out to me also, at night it would get so cold almost freezing but in the morning and as the day when on if would go from freezing to burning hot then back down to freezing again. This worked out great because we were comfortable during the day and at night perfect weather for fire and drumming circles. The sky at night was clear and you could see the stars and it was so still and so quiet expect for the peaceful noise within the forest.
ReplyDeleteFor the past three summers I have spent time in the Mugello Valley in Italy. It is about an hour north of Florence in Tuscany. It is the kind of place that looks like the typical postcard of a Tuscan landscape. There are rolling hills that don't really look too steep, but that is only until you try to hike up them. The large hills have heavy forests where chestnut trees are forested now. On these hills it is also possible to see the outline of the ancient civilizations that once lived here. In the middle of the woods you can sometimes see large stones sticking up out of the ground or sometimes a whole bunch of trees will be all in a straight line which indicates the presence of an ancient wall because the roots of the trees grow well around the walls. In the valley itself there are many fields. They are brown and green and they just cover the rolling hills. As you look across the hills, depending on the time of year you will see large bales of hay all rolled up. Where I live is a typical farmhouse and when you sit outside and look across the fields, depending on the year you see all sorts of plants. There is always wheat planted but the other field rotates every other year between corn and sunflowers. If sunflowers aren't planted that year they can always be found in a field somewhere nearby. If I were to hike across this part of the valley to the other house where members of the archaeological dig live I would pass these sunflower and wheat fields and cross though a small portion of forest before emerging in a vineyard. They make their own wine here and also have their own garden where all the vegetables we eat for dinner are grown. Sitting at this house you get an excellent view of the valley and can even see where there is a small chapel. It is in the middle of a field and has been there sine the 1800s. What makes it really stand out in the landscape is the cypress trees that surround it. This landscape is one of my favorite and when I sit outside I feel like I can just completely relax. I love sitting outside during the thunderstorms because in some ways the whole landscape changes. Lightening hits frequently on the large hill and each year I've been there at least one tree near the dig site has been hit by lightening. I also like sitting outside at night. The stars are much more clear there than they are hear at home and you can just listen to the sounds around us. Sometimes you can even hear the wild boar but usually it just the sound of regular farm animals.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in high school I went on a backpacking trip to New Mexico. I was in the Plains of San Agustin located in southwestern part of the state. I remember the area being mostly desert. Not the type of desert that one may imagine seeing nothing but sand all the way to the horizon. No, in this case it is the type of desert where there is nothing but rocky hills covered in small shrubs as far as the eye can see. This area has lots of ranches but is very dry, all of our water supply was above ground tanks feed by wells powered by windmills. But there is still a surprising amount of vegetation, the type of vegetation that at first glance doesn’t look very inviting. But after a few hours under the sun you began to appreciate the limited shade that is offered by the short but sturdy trees that dot the landscape. The best part of the desert is the sky. At night when the days heat has left, but can still be felt in the loose gravel between your toes you can see the entire universe above your head and around your shoulders. It was unlike any other place I had and still have been. I felt like I could feel the world.
ReplyDeleteI traveled to Puerto Rico last summer for my honeymoon. Every bit of the scenery was amazing and new to me, but one of the places that stands out in my mind the most is El Yunque rainforest. We stayed one night in a bed and breakfast inside the southern part of the rainforest. It had its own trail that traveled through the forest to a place where two rivers met, and there were a few swimming holes at the base of an impressive waterfall. The path was steep and treacherous, partly due to how wet everything was. It rained while we were swimming and part of the hike back, but while we were hiking the sky was hidden by the canopy. There were plants with leaves as big as me and everything was just so green! It was absolutely beautiful. There were snails all along the path that had shells the size of oranges. At the top of the trail we could see all the way to the ocean. I have never been surrounded by so much greenery, and have never been made to feel so small by my surroundings.
ReplyDeleteI grew up partly at a retreat center where my grandfather was a potter in Germantown, Maryland. It's a couple hundred acres of meadows and hardwoods. I remember a creek to the North of the house that was surrounded by skunk cabbage and spanned by a huge poplar downed by lightning. The creek was quiet enough not to drown out the sound of deer heading to water and smaller animals moving around up the slope to the Northwest. The creek would swarm with water striders and frogs in spring. A pond fed by the creek and surrounded by sycamores was usually covered over by a mat of water lilies that would occasionally break as turtles slipped in and out. In late spring the gravel roads would fill with mating toads for a few days. Sometimes screech owls could be heard at night, when walking along the edge of the meadow where a stand of some pines created an omnipresent carpet of red straw under a constantly-shadowed hall of trees.
ReplyDeleteI have always been partial to mountains because they evoke some feeling in me that other landscapes don’t. While I love being outside, and the beach and other places can be really beautiful, nothing really gives me quite the same feeling as looking out over a landscape and seeing mountains upon mountains rolling off into the distance. There is some kind of longing, yearning feeling that makes me feel so tiny, whether I’m standing at the foot of the mountains looking up, or I’ve reached some peak and can look down at the vast expanse below me.
ReplyDeleteThis past summer I got to participate in field research in the French Pyrenees mountains, and the beauty of the landscape was indescribable. The mountains were the greenest green I’ve ever seen. In the area where we were, the land has been used for pasture and/or farming by the Basque people for hundreds of years. Seeing little farmhouses nestled in the valleys or pockets in the mountains made me imagine what it must be like to live so isolated from others yet continue to thrive via the same livelihood your ancestors did long ago. Sheep trails and small roads leading to farmhouses break up the slopes, which are markedly different shades of green, depending on how the land is used, be it pasture, forest, or other. Although there were a few cold days with rolling mist folding around everything, seeing the mountains emerge from the gray, hazy clouds in the middle of the day gave them an even more mysterious vibe.
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Last summer, I had the opportunity to study abroad in New Zealand with one of UGA’s global programs in sustainability. The overall experience was EPIC, due mostly in part to the incredible landscapes the country offers. One of the most memorable to me was the area along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing in Tongariro National Park. The track features a cold mountain spring, old lava flows, active craters, thermal steam vents, and unique emerald and blue lakes. The final few miles of the trek cut through a dense native forest of podocarp-hardwood. The forest scene contrasts drastically with the rugged volcanic terrain. This is a harsh environment for plants to grow but the valley of multicolored lava flows provides a habitat for some short plants, lichens, and moss. The highest point of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing forms at the rim of what is known as Red Crater. Apparently it is the high temperature oxidation of iron in the rock that produces stunning reds, rusty yellows, and rich blacks and browns. Active steam vents around the crater emitted a certainly memorable sulphuric smell. Similar mineral venting creates the brilliant colors of the Emerald and Blue lakes further along the track. Glorious bluish greens. I had never before witness such mountainous vastness and variety of terrain growing up in the flatlands of south Georgia. Good times.
ReplyDeleteThis landscape is important because it is acknowledged for both its natural and cultural significance. It was the first national park established in New Zealand and the fourth in the world. The New Zealand Department of Conservation has classified the park as a "duel World Heritage area" because of its important connections to the native Maori’s cultural and spiritual beliefs. Mt Tongariro, the active volcano that erupted just last year, is considered a divine mountain being.
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Growing up I lived in the woods. I used to go out behind my house and walk about a quarter of a mile into the woods, and there was a small creek that ran through. The floor of the woods had tons of decomposing leaves, and, my favorite, moss. I used to love rubbing my hands and feet against the soft deep green moss, or resting on a large bed of moss. The trees in the woods behind my house were probably only 50 years old at the most, there were many young saplings, of all sorts of trees. Some specific trees that I remember grew in the woods were dogwoods, oak, maple, and mountain laurel with its twisting shape and unique flowers. I used to climb the mountain laurels. There were also poplar trees. Also throughout the woods were small deer paths, that I would love to find and follow, and tadpoles in the the stream.
ReplyDeleteI was born in Long Beach, California and lived in Compton until I was seven years old. It was a pretty shitty place for a kid to grow up in that I was rarely allowed to leave the house, what with the violence and the drugs and the creepy neighbors. We finally left in 2000 to drive across the country to Georgia, and I remember the first drastic change in landscape started in Arizona. We got stopped by racist cops in the desert. We were caught and questioned in the heat, thirsty, bored, and offended.I remember being terrified that somehow, the rest of the world would be worse than Compton.
ReplyDeleteThis was sort of a formative experience for me, vivid for how unbearably hot and stupid it was. I barely left the van as we drove through the country, but I’m curious as to what I might have seen through the windows. I’d like to give this memory a little botanical context. I’m gathering from retrospective research that this event must have happened the Painted Desert through which we drove via US 40. Thirteen years later, my gestalt impression of the area is that it had cacti, middling mountains, a lot of dirt, and a lot of rocks. Sources say that I probably saw prickly pear cactus, which bears a brightly colored yellow, red or purple edible oval fruit. I see these everywhere these days as ornamentals, and when we drive to southern Mexico to see family, the stretches of southern desert roads are interrupted by about a million stands selling the de-prickled fruit. We call the fruits “tunas” and sometimes refrigerate them before eating. I probably also saw Indian paintbrush, which is an annual or biennial wildflower that grows 6 to 16 inches high with clumps of bright red or orange spikes that, you know, resemble paintbrushes, and when prolific, it creates a carpet of red across the desert. Another feature of the landscape is Needle-and-Thread grass, so-called because of its sharp seeds. This perennial grows in small bunches from 1 to 3 inches in diameter.
The most memorable landscape for me was during a trip with my family out to Jackson Hole, Wyoming during the winter about 10 years ago. Being from Georgia and have lived here my entire life, the most snow I usually see is a couple of inches dusting the ground. So it definitely stood out in my mind when in Wyoming that you couldn't leave the hard packed trails or you would fall down into snow higher than your head. My dad found that out firsthand. The trees were certainly different that the deciduous forests from Georgia, especially with most of the evergreens being pine trees. Of course there are pines there as well, but there is much more of other evergreens such as spruces, cedars, and firs. Obviously due to the high snowfall, you aren't able to see any flora shorter than 5 feet or so, so medium to large trees are the only vegetation visible during that time of the year. I loved seeing all the large evergreens though, as it was starkly different that most of the forests I was used to seeing.
ReplyDeleteGrowing up in England my family and i used to visit one of the few protected wildlife reserves in metropolitan Manchester, Dunham Massey Park. This small park owned and protected by a National Trust is famous for its population of deer (a rare commodity in England). The park is built around Massey Hall and is abundant with ancient wild Oaks that date back to the 17th century and a few other species of trees just as old. I remember being mesmerized by the wildlife and amazed by the sense of being out in 'nature' (This was my first real taste of the outdoors as i grew up and rarely left the industrial city center). I remember the smell of fresh air was always captivating and to this day am still reminded of those first visits to the park when find myself outdoors in colder climate forests such as those in Maine and others up North. It's still funny to me how i used to love seeing the wild deer so much, and how these days i see deer almost as vermin; large clumsy animals that cause nothing but trouble in my miniature 'orchard' and substantial damage to my cars. Nonetheless Dunham Massey Park is still one of my favorite places, and i make sure to visit the park each and every time i go back to England to visit my family.
ReplyDeleteI write a lot about the Great Smokey Mountains National Park in North Carolina and Tennessee, where my dad and I used to go camping and hiking every summer when I was younger. I'm not sure that it's my favorite landscape, but the Appalachian mountain ecology is one that has always resonated with me. My favorite places are up in the ridge lines, where the rhododendron and mountain laurel grow along the trails, and the air is cooler, more damp, and the tree cover above is more sparse. Up high, the plants are disturbed less often, and you can get strange communities, like whole stands of birch trees that crowd out other species and grow up gnarled and twisted in the higher winds. In some places there are "Appalachian balds," mountain top patches where the trees normally don't grow at all because of odd soil chemistry or erosion or grazing pressures. Balds are often covered in grasses or heath patches, so you can get an uninterrupted view of the valleys below. I love that, when you come down from a bald, you can feel the air change as you get back into the trees and go down the slope. Ridge lines always feel so crisp, but down in the valleys and hollows, you can smell the weight and age of the biomass slowly accumulating, inching downhill from the trees and other plants stacked up the mountain side. You can practically hear the fungi in the soil breaking it all down. It feels heavy, in an embracing kind of way.
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