Journal #6

As I sit outside of the Winton Scott building, I feel thick dew in the air that reminds me of the sauna. My back is perched up against a warm metal railing and my legs are outstretched on a square patch of concrete. I can’t feel any breeze; the trees are still. The proximity of trees on this campus are so organized, none too close or too far from one another. The trees vary in size, color, and shape. I am looking at a bulky trunk that appears to be deeply rooted in the soil. This tree seems much older than some of the leaner trunks. The leaves are mainly green and plentiful. Many trees have a collection of small leaflets the size of my thumb while others have large leaves the size of my hand. I do not sense any peculiar or overwhelming smells, but my nostrils do sense that the air is warm. The street is bustling with cars, and the only sound I can hear is the revving of engines. As I look up, I peer into a sea of soft white pillows. Clouds extend all through out the sky and there are only small holes of clear blue that peaks through. The sun is shining brightly—and my skin color is appreciating the darker shade of brown that it is becoming. This area of nature I am observing is definitely organized, so kudos to the TCU maintenance team for keeping this campus in tip top condition. I certainly do not feel like I am in the wild, and someone like Muir may not even consider what I am looking at to be nature. It is certainly not nature in its most pure form because of the upkeep, but nonetheless it has its own sense of beauty. I would argue to say that TCU’s maintenance of nature is one of its selling points for prospective students and their families. I remember admiring the scenery during my first time walking through campus four short years ago. I was mesmerized by the tidiness: freshly cut green grass, perfectly placed trees, and large beds of colorful flowers with sweet fragrances. It is noteworthy to consider how nature draws the attention of mankind and has the ability to make somebody comfortable. As trivial as it may sound, campuses across America are judged according to their aesthetic beauty. The geographical location of a campus has distinctive natural elements that largely effect a student’s time during college. Campuses in California often overlook the water, campuses in Arizona are near to stretches of desert land, and wheat fields surround campuses in southeast Washington. So much of the food we eat and the hobbies we have during college becomes dependent upon the nature around us. While in Europe this summer, one of my favorite parts of my program was getting to know students from colleges all over the United States. Our weekends would look completely different based on the natural elements we were surrounded by. I have a friend that regularly spends time watching the sun set and rise in a wheat field. I have another friend that regularly hikes 14iner’s in Colorado. I have another friend that spends every weekend in the playing sand volleyball and surfing at the beach. It is obvious how interdependent we are on nature to provide entertainment; in the same regard nature on campuses are dependent upon mankind to upkeep it in order to give the campus a certain aesthetic.