Adrian Hagerty
I’ve always been a person who greatly enjoyed nature, and I used to spend a lot more time in it.
I grew up in Poland. My hometown was an urban area, a forest of buildings. But that wasn’t to say there wasn’t any nature. There’s patches of unclaimed earth that tear through the cracks, grasses and wildflowers hugging bus stops and filling the spaces between roads. I used to pick snails off plants and wait patiently for them to peek out from their shells in the palm of my hand. Parks were easy to find. Most paths led through small forest patches. I would take the tram or bus with my family, and we’d go feed the ducks at a pond crowded by towering chestnut trees. If we needed to go farther, we’d take the train, or one of the greyhound bus lines. That’s how we’d visit the rest of my family – many of them were farmers. Poland doesn’t have much of a suburb, at least not where I lived. The countryside creeps in, the buildings dropping off like trees at a forest edge. Many people farm. We didn’t, but we had a community garden patch. It had an apple tree grafted with three different colors. We sold it when we moved some years later. I wonder if those apples are still growing.
One of the things I noticed about America, when we came here, was how nature was more contained. Plants and trees peek out from the concrete in Poland, and rough patches are scattered among the buildings in almost every neighborhood you’d visit. Here, the grasses are trimmed short and boxed into yards. The American lawn was something that perplexed me a great deal. Still, there were parks, even woodlands. It was my first time having a backyard when we moved into my grandparents house. I spent the afternoons riding my bike through the neighborhood, staying out late to watch fireflies. I’d play with the neighbor’s cat when he wandered into our front yard, or climbed trees. Sometimes, we’d drive up to mountains a few hours away.
For my hour outdoors, I settled on a small woodland patch by my old highschool. It was the only place within walking distance. It’s not much of a forest — even at the very heart of it, you can still see the vague silhouette of buildings through the trees, hear the distant honk of a car. The sweet, heavy air of summer cooled slightly once I entered the shade of the trees, and on occasion, a soft breeze would ruffle the underbrush. I followed a few random desire paths, laid out by other people — I doubt larger animals visit these woodlands, since the area was surrounded by suburbs. It made my life easier, though — there were a few poison ivy patches I managed to avoid thanks to the work of countless collective footprints that carved out that path. If I stood quietly, I could almost hear the woods breathe. Leaves fluttering, the creak of branches as air flowed over them. I tried to move, though, as the mosquitoes were getting to me. I spooked a good couple robins while walking through – they haven’t flown out for the autumn yet, though I’m sure they’ll be gone soon. I caught sight of a chipmunk scurry away at one point, and heard the trilling of some kind of warbler. A woodpecker worked at a tree somewhere, hidden by all the leaves. Something I’ve always liked about forests was how the sun played on the leaves, painting erratic, golden and white blotches where the canopy parted. I saw a tree that was lit up completely at the base by a shaft of light, the rest shrouded in darkness. I thought it was a cool visual, so I took a photo to reference later. I’m a hobbyist illustrator, and I write sometimes as well, so it gave me some ideas for some of my personal work. Nature has always been very inspiring to me.
When I came home, I was nearly faint from the heat and the effort of walking there and back. I don’t go out very often. Over the summer, I spent most of my time at home, when my health got bad and my schedule got busy. Nature was something I put aside — I didn’t see much of it, beyond glimpses when driving to the store, or going to school or work. I saw a juvenile cooper’s hawk yesterday morning, when I left around 8:20am for my shift. I miss going out in the mornings. I’m too tired most days.
I had my hour of mediated time after, to get some energy back before I worked on homework. I mostly spent it alternating between twitter and discord, which are my go-to’s when I’m online. Since I’m an artist, most of the content on my timeline is other people’s art. I get a lot of stuff related to fandoms I’m in, and those I’m not. I actually find a lot of new series that way, based on the content people make that randomly makes it to my page. I also see memes which I’ll send to my friends, or pictures of animals from daily creature accounts. My favorites currently are two that post lizards and fish. They come in so many neat colors, and they give me ideas for my art sometimes. Mostly I am just scrolling, since it’s routine checking notifications and just seeing what people are posting. The lull of the twitter timeline is pretty easy to fall into — sometimes I’ll perk up if I see something really cool (I saw one of the daily animal accounts I follow post a moon jellyfish earlier, which got me excited since I did research on them for work) — but most of the time, I’m scrolling kind of mindlessly. I don’t really interact much beyond liking and sometimes retweeting. I did more or less the same when I went on tiktok for a bit. My page there is usually more memes, animal videos, and content about media I know (or don’t). Both timelines are pretty filtered to my personal tastes from the algorithms they use, so I don’t really have to search for content. I also spent some of the hour, like I mentioned, using discord. I use it to talk to my friends, and I checked in with some of them to ask about their days. I also conversed a bit with some people I build stories with, and we discussed our characters in the current setting we’re working on.
Reflecting on both experiences, both served to help me relax, but held different value. Being online is something I’m used to, mostly because it’s so accessible. It’s a familiar comfort. It’s something I can do without having to travel, or think too much, or spend too much of my already limited energy on. Over the years, I’ve gotten further from nature, despite its importance to me never wavering. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gone out less. I used to get up early and go for walks, though I’d have to stick closely to the curb — even in neighborhoods, a lot of sidewalks end abruptly. It’s gotten hotter over the years, and the temperatures in the summer make my head throb. I still try to walk — but there aren’t many places to go. Virginia is a place made for cars. It’s hard to get to a real park, if I don’t have someone to drive me (I’ve still got my permit).
I probably over-thought this assignment, to be honest. Nature is something that’s been really important to me my whole life, but my dynamic with it has changed as my life itself has changed. I thought about it a lot over this past week. The internet’s always been a constant, but it’s not really a suitable replacement. I’m inspired by other’s art and content online in a much different way than I am by nature in real life. It’s difficult oftentimes because of my health, schedule, and inability to drive. But I do want to bring more nature back into my life. Maybe I’ll try walking again when the weather’s cooler, and make a habit of it. We’ll have to see.