Nature
Ingesting
You, for whatever reason, suddenly looked less than the horizon to me. On a normal night, the lack of jagged, saw-toothed pine roping across my eye’s limit was jarring. For months, I instead saw a depressing horizon as a flat line––a charcoal blue, an endless territory, a subject matter that did not interest me in the least. It was a horizon that swallowed the sun unilaterally, equidistantly, identically every late evening. And that collection of dying orange would leave me all the same, every time, every day, every repeating instance that I was not quite ready for it to leave me.
By Calvin Spears5 years ago in Earth
Late Afternoons
She leaves the house at two thirty, as she does every weekday. It’s a sunny spring day with barely any breeze off the ocean, ideal fishing weather. Roy left at sunrise and will not dock his cuddy until just before the sun dips back into the sea, as satisfied with his day’s catch as the sun will be with the yellow and orange brushstrokes it leaves lingering in the sky, silhouetting grey clouds as darkness settles. She has plenty of time before meeting him in the harbour.
By L J Purves5 years ago in Earth
Nature By The Rail Trail
As a very young girl, raised right beside the trails. I was captivated by the whistle of the train. Never having to look at a clock or watch, the whistle blew on the hour. It was wonderful to know when your meals were ready and what time you had to be indoors.
By Cathy Deslippe5 years ago in Earth
Water Flashed Before My Eyes
I was told that at the moment of death I would see my life flash before my eyes. Stumbling through the desert that day, I expected to soon see everybody that I had ever loved, or a moment from my childhood. However, I instead saw nothing but water, the only antivenom to my terminal dehydration. Death seems to bring the victim what they most desire, with that often being more time – hence the lifetime of memories flooding in. I only wanted water.
By Alfie Saunders5 years ago in Earth
Radish
The radish – underrated even by the one who named it – has been chosen to be forever known as rad-ish, not rad. From the onset of one’s introduction to this root vegetable, it is established, by name, as something that will neither disappoint nor excite. It is held in a state of never-ending mediocrity in the minds of most. While the exterior color is vibrant and striking (ranging from bright, almost unnatural, magenta to deep, solid red to vibrant purple and the more mellow shades of the plant world – whites and greens), the average onlooker is somehow immune to the radish’s commendable attempts at visual attraction. This is one rare, but consistent, instance in which people successfully avoid judging a book by its cover.
By Calista Marchand-Nazzaro5 years ago in Earth
Life On Planet Earth
Your inner voice is now the voice of David Attenborough with his same smooth tones and candor. The Earth’s ocean is home to some of the most spectacular species on our planet, with beauty and mystique in abundance. Estimates put our oceans home to hundreds of thousands if not millions of different species, including bacteria and microbes, with up to 2,000 new species discovered every year.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Earth
Bull Kelp on the Windshield
Bull kelp was caught in the windshield wipers on the cabin of the boat. We had been slicing through the waves, too heavy to crest them. Riding in a steel skiff, with a six person cabin. The sound of the water on metal was like being inside a tuning fork. My parents were taking me to town, across Johnson Straight, a wide open swathe of ocean that got a bit unmanageable at times.
By Yess Bryce5 years ago in Earth
The Dandelion Seed
As I sat scrubbing an old kitchen floor, grateful yet discouraged by my new yet difficult cleaning job, I noticed a dandelion seed floating towards me. “It must be my lucky day” I thought to myself. For, who is lucky enough to find a perfectly formed dandelion seed floating around, dancing amongst the dust and dirt in this old, gross place? I lightly picked it up with the tips of my right thumb and index finger, carefully set it in the palm of my left hand, and gently blew it out the already open door and into the wind with a wish in mind. A wish that the wind would blow me away with this seed. The wind, however, blew it right back into me, and no matter how many times I tried to blow it away the wind kept blowing it right back to me. That is when I noticed the field of dandelions this one perfect little seed flew away from, and that is when I realized that I was not lucky at all. There was a whole field of mesmerizing white dandelions, and I was just in the right place and time to notice the one little seed that got away, dancing in the wind, and searching for its new home to plant itself in. “Maybe the seed is stupid” I thought, feeling stupid myself for wishing upon the little seed, and a little sad for the seed. Because I mean, look at the field of dandelions it came from. All of those dandelions came from seeds that were smart enough to stay in the same area and plant themselves one right after the other. Those were the seeds that knew to stay close, the smart ones, and although they created a field of weeds, they were beautiful when put together. Put together, they were all enough for each other. This seed, however, thought it knew that it did not belong and flew away with the wind, searching for a home away from the obvious home, but why would it float to me? It was floating away from the home it knew it should have had, and right into an old, worn out townhome that I was feeling stupid enough to clean for a measly $15 an hour. When I had first accepted the job it seemed like a lot of money, but after 6 hours of scrubbing dirt and dried paint off of linoleum that my new boss gave to me because she did not want to do it herself, it felt like my own personal Hell, and this seed happened upon me there, with the wind lightly whistling, asking me to carry its tiny piece of nature off to somewhere new. Trying again and again to come back to me because of the way the wind was blowing. Maybe it never wanted to come to me, and the wind forced it to be there. Maybe it was asking me to fly away with it, off away on a new adventure. I wanted to. I longed to go off with this seed. But then maybe it was just trying to tell me something, maybe it was begging me to plant it somewhere, anywhere, over and over again. But who plants weeds? Not me. Not anybody that I knew. That is not the way we were taught to live. “This seed does not want me” I said, sure that I was right. So, I left it on the kitchen ground, figuring if I did a good enough job at cleaning the place that it would eventually find its way back to some dirt, somewhere, all on its own.
By Sierra Peck 5 years ago in Earth
9 Oldest Trees In The World
There are many wonderful moments in the outdoors. Whether it's a crisp autumn morning, the smell of a campfire, or watching your dog chase after squirrels through the meadow, we've compiled the top 9 oldest trees in the world (not in the order).
By Roy's Corner5 years ago in Earth
The Yellow Cedar Tree
Hello, I am a yellow-cedar, and I live in Canada's oldest forest in the Caren Range on the Sunshine Coast. I still remember the day a Megalonyx fertilized my seed 1835 years ago. I fought hard to sprout up from the ground. I wasn't sure I would make it, but my fighting spirit prevailed. Now I'm the tallest and the oldest tree in the forest.
By Suzanne Bennett Mcelroy5 years ago in Earth
