On Loving Nature

Something about the natural world turns practical people into poets.  I marvel when others speak lofty praises about the mountains, gush about the ocean, and babble about rivers.  Is there something I’m missing?  Does my brain not fully translate the input from my eyes?

People tell me pictures and films aren’t the same as The Real Thing.  Certainly one doesn’t get the sounds and smells and feel of the place, or the full panorama and color quality.  Yet to my eyes, the Grand Canyon looks exactly like the pictures.  The experience of being there added nothing but a few photographs of my grumpy expression.  

Rivers tend to be muddy and dull, or else furious and noisy.  Their primary interest for me lies in the changes in sandbars over time and the wildlife and trees on its banks.  

Rocky mountainsides, and those sparsely forested or covered in pines, are frankly rather ugly—in an interesting way, at times, but still not much to look at.  

Hawaii was lovely, and visiting was an experience I’ll never forget, but aside from certain pre-planned events, it made sense to me to enjoy the experience from the lanai overlooking the beach; I preferred to read a book rather than sightsee, considering it was a vacation and that is the sort of activity I found most restful.  

As for the ocean, it’s just is the ocean—not unlike a gigantic lake with extra waves and inhabitants.  Its existence is a matter of fact to me, not something I naturally marvel at.  My eyes aren’t drawn irresistibly toward it; it holds no allure for me as others claim it does for them.  But then, I don’t care much for water sports, either, and I prefer mammals and wood over fish and coral.  (Who doesn’t like dolphins and whales?  But they’re nowhere near as cuddly and gorgeous as cats, domestic or otherwise.)

I think I do appreciate nature, and I’ve tried my hand at nature poems many times over. Unlike the proponents of "grand vistas" such as mountains and oceans, however, my eyes favor rolling grasslands beneath an immense sky, faintly-trodden paths in a deciduous forest, brooks and small waterfalls, and a well-tended garden.  I’ve written before about the comforting sound of rain, the textures and colors of the clouds, the ever-changing majesty of trees, the pristine beauty of a snowy landscape.  These things have more to engage the eye and appreciation, more inherent beauty.  Perhaps familiarity makes these things more precious to me, just as it makes mountains and oceans more inspiring to others.  Or perhaps it’s just a matter of taste.

Similar nature posts:

On Winter, On an Evening Sky, On a Summer Afternoon’s Walk, On Clouds, or On Art vs. Science, On Trees, On Various Thoughts on a Watery Day, On a Serene Summer Rain