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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Nature is not temporary but we are

Craig Wolfe photography

My first read-through of Dorothy Wordsworth's "Floating Island" was mmm . . .I wasn't especially enraptured by it. I decided to try again by reading it out loud to myself.  By the end of the first stanza it was excruciatingly clear the spareness of words was obvious and . . .I heard myself talking out loud, "This makes all the sense in the world." 

Harmonious Powers with Nature work
On sky, earth, river, lake, and sea:
Sunshine and storm, whirlwind and breeze
All in one duteous task agree.

In this first stanza Wordsworth focused on describing the physical state of the highest power, our known Universe-the World and some of its components: sky, earth, the forces of its nature, and how they all work harmoniously together, to bring us quite a world to live in.  Wordsworth's use of the Universe and its interconnected components sets the stage for the reader to think: how powerful, what an awe-inspiring world.
 
She then imagines or sees, ". . .a slip of earth. . .loosed from its hold. . .see it float. . .obedient to the wind.” Vivid imagery. . .of a piece of Earth coming off in some mysterious way and it changed into something light enough to float on the wind. The imagination soars.

Once did I see a slip of earth,
By throbbing waves long undermined,
Loosed from its hold; -- how no one knew
But all might see it float, obedient to the wind.

She imagines or sees the piece of Earth on the Lake, where more creatures of the universe reside, thrive and share a world:

Might see it, from the mossy shore
Dissevered float upon the Lake,
Float, with its crest of trees adorned
On which the warbling birds their pastime take.

She describes life's basic needs: "Food, shelter, safety. . ." that the birds and all other living creatures find in Nature, at the lake. The call to fundamental needs that all living things share, invokes strong feelings in the reader -- We all need these! She paints a tranquil, sublime Nature scene from where the reader can find stillness, which then gives rise to “Big R” higher, more powerful emotions.

She goes on to infer, although the birds live here, so do we (interconnectedness again) and how the world as we know it, "A peopled world it is. . ." is but a tiny world in the great scheme of the infinite universe.” She reminds us we share the same needs and space with all living creatures. This calls in the “devotion to beauty; the worship of Nature.” She moves us to think our world, large as we can know it to be, could in fact, be very, very small in the scheme of the infinite universe. And how we might be connected to the larger universe and its unknown components.

Food, shelter, safety there they find
There berries ripen, flowerets bloom;
There insects live their lives -- and die:
A peopled world it is; in size a tiny room.

Skipping a few stanzas Wordsworth closes out by describing how we might be taking a Nature walk on a pleasant day and notice a piece of our familiar physical world, perhaps a landmark, gone, without any forewarning. We may not know where it went, what it became, but we can be sure it's continuing the preordained cycle of life by dissolving to a fragment of something else, to begin the cycle all over again. Again, the worship and devotion of nature and its powerful and sublime beauty; a call to the reader's imagination.

Perchance when you are wandering forth
Upon some vacant sunny day
Without an object, hope, or fear,
Thither your eyes may turn -- the Isle is passed away.

Buried beneath the glittering Lake!
Its place no longer to be found,
Yet the lost fragments shall remain,
To fertilize some other ground.

Side bar: Wordsworth's poem conjured up a strong recollection. I lived on the East Coast in the mid-1990s. I was away from home during the great December 1998 Northwest floods which created havoc in every possible way with people, their plans, the physical world. Everyone at home was inconvenienced, all pre- and post-holiday plans had to be changed and the flood had to be “dealt with.” Most of my family lives in Oregon and Washington, so I was given many stories and pictures describing their experiences with the great flood.

The description of their experiences were words to me until the day I drove the Columbia River Gorge from Portland to Eastern Oregon in May, following the floods. I was startled beyond any words I have yet to find, when I saw that the shape of the Columbia River bed by Cascade Locks had altered noticeably. The curve had turned more snake-like, sharper, and the river's shore was now much closer to the road.

The flood and all its power, had dramatically changed a piece of nature which I had enjoyed all my driving life. I had always been able to predict the next curve and therefore go on a slight autopilot to enjoy the amazing Gorge views of river and cliffs. I had always felt until the moment I took the slight right turn onto the short stretch of road where the river bed changed, that Nature was a good thing. I had felt most secure in my familiarity of the road. Until that moment when I discovered the unexpected changes, it had been my road.

When I saw the river's bank now fixed much closer to the road, I was unexpectedly afraid, startled, disoriented, completely and wholy undone. I understood right then, right there, this was not my road, I am merely borrowing it and its experience. I felt to my depth, how HUGE and POWERFUL nature is and how truly small, really temporary, I am. Thanks Dorothy Wordsworth!