“This is an adventure.”-Steve Zissou

It sure is. Fall has been filled with airplanes, cars, trains, and feet that traverse the countryside, the deserts, and the urban jungles.

Landing back in Oregon was a relieving breath of fresh air. Immediately I was surrounded by tall pines and the crisp smell was intoxicating. A climate of cool collectivism. Family and friends abounded. I felt the attachment that I’ve always had to the Pacific Northwest–a constant wind of adventure to everyone’s back. Thrill seekers and weekend escapists. And who could blame them? It’s a forest, a natural playground. An overwhelming feeling of being at home. And it’s just a part of the culture. So I took the opportunity to visit with some good friends, some close family, and check out some new stomping grounds. Crater Lake was a vast blue reflective pool. A mirror to the oceanic sky. I was also able to celebrate a proclamation of love at my friends’ wedding in Oregon City-cheers to them and their love!

As soon as I had arrived back in Southern California, I felt lost in the ocean. The way that barefoot Californians feel about the ocean is the way I feel about the forest. It might be a Minnesota thing–wandering through the trees and feeling the comfort in their stability, their old age and their wisdom. I love palm trees as much as the next person, but I feel fall colors in my bloodstream. They saturate me this time of year.

So the next adventure ensued shortly after: the Sequoias. Old souls–these giant mothers have withstood the test of time and fire after fire. A symbol of strength and resilience. Feeling like a drop in the ocean, a human is just a speck in this woodland universe. Black skies and diamond horizons as the sun set and the cool evening crept in. Breathing it all in,  I hugged a few of those giantesses as I left again for the city.

But the escapism continued onto the following Saturday when I jumped aboard a desert-bound plane. The flashing lights of Las Vegas were a sight, but a car carried us to Zion. A true vision in red. Sheer rock cliffs and trickling rivers that carve out faces in the walls. We climbed to Angel’s Landing. A strenuous feat, but one worth taking nevertheless. Thick silver chain links wrapped up and around these cliffs, clinging to the ledges, and ducking through caverns carved by winds and water. Hours amounted but we were not disappointed. Overlooking the valley as the fall light reflected a natural wonderment, there wasn’t much more to do than sit and appreciate.

The natural world is my home. I grew up in the woods, whether they were in my backyard or felt in my dreams. As I grow and live in a city, surrounded by people always on the go, these moments of adventure and reflection are always welcomed and rejuvenating. I want to protect these moments, not just so that I can recall them years down the line, but for others to experience to the fullest. Reading This Changes Everything by Naomi Klein encourages me to be more active in reducing my consumption. To no longer avert my eyes from the harsh reality that these natural landscapes are jeopardized by our continued vampire ways: we use as if there is no more tomorrow. Our resources are not infinite, and I’m starting to ask myself how much more the grandest of all mamas can take. When will fresh water become the most highly sought after resource? And not just for the desert dwellers and islanders, but for everyone. Each action counts–shorter showers, taking the train instead of driving, consuming less meat, buying only what we need. I hope for the best. I hope that I can continue to see the world in its natural state and I hope that everyone can learn to value our resources on a collective level.