Muir's natural interconnective world

"God’s glacial-mills grind slowly, but they have been kept in motion long enough in California to grind sufficient soil for a glorious abundance of life, though most of the grist has been carried to the lowlands, leaving these high regions comparatively lean and bare; while the post-glacial agents of erosion have not yet furnished sufficient available food over the general surface for more than a few tufts of the hardiest plants, chiefly carices and eriogonæ. And it is interesting to learn in this connection that the sparseness and repressed character of the vegetation at this height is caused more by want of soil than by harshness of climate; for, here and there, in sheltered hollows (countersunk beneath the general surface) into which a few rods of well-ground moraine chips have been dumped, we find groves of spruce and pine thirty to forty feet high, trimmed around the edges with willow and huckle-berry bushes, and oftentimes still further by an outer ring of tall grasses, bright with lupines, lark-spurs, and showy columbines, suggesting a climate by no means repressingly severe. All the streams, too, and the pools at this elevation are furnished with little gardens wherever soil can be made to lie, which, though making scarce any show at a distance, constitute charming surprises to the appreciative observer. In these bits of leafiness a few birds find grateful homes. Having no acquaintance with man, they fear no ill, and flock curiously about the stranger, almost allowing themselves to be taken in the hand. In so wild and so beautiful a region was spent my first day, every sight and sound inspiring, leading one far out of himself, yet feeding and building up his individuality."

In this descriptive passage from Muir's book,"The Mountains of California," (1894-Chapter 4, "A Near View of the High Sierra"), Muir takes the reader on a visual tour of an area of the high Sierra Mountains where he first fell in love with mountains; where he spent a good portion of his life and through an area he obviously loves. While giving a visual tour he is also concurrently explaining to us how essential and interconnected we and nature are, even following events which we would normally term,"catastophic." He implies the average person sees large scale events, such as the forming of mountains or the changing of their shapes through natural events as negative--that no good can possible be at the area where the event began or ended. We unengaged citizens would naturally assume destitution is the only possible outcome. He says if we really want to learn and know more, by spending time we will observe some naturally occurring order and purpose of nature.

In this passage Muir says God is responsible for this wonder and sight and from the enormity of glacial events, there is good and purpose:
"God's glacial-mills grind slowly" and "kept in motion long enough in California to grind sufficient soil for a glorious abundance of life. . ."

He continues to explain the functional outcomes of glacial events: "though most of the grist has been carried to the lowlands, leaving these high regions comparatively lean and bare; while the post-glacial agents of erosion have not yet furnished sufficient available food over the general surface for more than a few tufts of the hardiest plants, chiefly carices and eriogonæ."

He tells us even though there is ". . .sparse to no vegetation in the higher areas of glacial activity. . ." it is the way it is supposed to be. He tells us what nature did provide is nourishment enough for the the "hardiest plants, chiefly, carices and eriogonæ." (Side note, I looked up carices and eriogonæ and found no definition in any online dictionary, but every reference was given back to this single passage by Muir).

He then describes what is thriving and why, and does so in eloquent and poetical terms: ". . .And it is interesting to learn in this connection that the sparseness and repressed character of the vegetation at this height is caused more by want of soil than by harshness of climate; for, here and there, in sheltered hollows (countersunk beneath the general surface) into which a few rods of well-ground moraine chips have been dumped, we find groves of spruce and pine thirty to forty feet high, trimmed around the edges with willow and huckle-berry bushes, and oftentimes still further by an outer ring of tall grasses, bright with lupines, lark-spurs, and showy columbines, suggesting a climate by no means repressingly severe." His purpose here is to say, you might think conditions are severe, but folks, look what is thriving, and. . .it is thriving because it is the order of nature.

He continues to regal the unexpected beauty of nature and what springs from its naturalness or in this case, the waters: "All the streams, too, and the pools at this elevation are furnished with little gardens wherever soil can be made to lie, which, though making scarce any show at a distance, constitute charming surprises to the appreciative observer. In these bits of leafiness a few birds find grateful homes. Having no acquaintance with man, they fear no ill, and flock curiously about the stranger, almost allowing themselves to be taken in the hand."

Muir alludes to the wild and the beauty which can be, both sublime and something that the interested observer would find, only if engaged in the seeking of beauty and the exploration of the wild. He tells us likes Thoreau did, that getting closer to nature, taking the time to embrace, engage and become a collaborator enriches our lives without end: ". . .In so wild and so beautiful a region was spent my first day, every sight and sound inspiring, leading one far out of himself, yet feeding and building up his individuality."
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