Rhapsodic Love Story to Nature

     The selection we read of John Muir's work starts off with "A Thousand-Mile Walk to the Gulf," a rather biting commentary about the misconceptions humans have about the Earth. I enjoy a good sarcastic or satiric piece of literature, so it was a fun read. But then I got to "A Wind-Storm in the Forests" and fell in love with this author. He wields his words like an artist his brush. The passionate adoration he has for the wind storm that passes through the forest where he's staying is breathtaking. I could see every step he took and feel his excitement over this natural occurrence like electricity. He looks to the trees as the strongest of giants, "going with the flow" of everything and surviving. Muir isn't trying to control or change the nature around him. Instead, he sees himself as this limited, insignificant human among the vast, magical trees.
     He paints gorgeous images of how different trees react to the storm: some bend to severe angles in the wind like a pliable ballerina doing a difficult dance routine, others shiver and shake like a bobble-head doll. He shouts bold colors at you, so you don't miss the power in their strength as well as their appearance. "...foliage was tinged with yellow; the laurel groves, with the pale undersides of their leaves turned upward, made masses of gray; then there was many a day of chocolate color from clumps of manzanita, a jet of vivid crimson from the bark of the madronos...displayed masses of pale purple and brown" (Muir 95). Someone would typically describe such a scene with more subdued colors: browns and faded reds intermingling with stained yellows. But he goes for power!
     He, foolishly in my opinion, climbs to the top of a Douglas Spruce to truly experience the strength of the trees and the invisible might of the wind. As I was reading, I would picture myself in a similar position to his, albeit much closer to the ground. And as the wind storm passed me by, I imagined the scent it would carry. Muir isn't one to leave out such an important element, either. "The fragrance of the woods was less marked than that produced during warm rain, when so many balsamic buds and leaves are steeped like tea; but from the chafing of resiny branches against each other, and the incessant attrition of myriads of needles, the gale was spiced to a very tonic degree" (Muir 95-6).
     I was just struck by the awe he had for this natural force and his appreciation for something no one can ever control. People love to bowl over vasts expanses of trees and shrubs to make way for condominiums and shopping centers. I've watched over my lifetime the farm lands around me and the natural landscapes in my hometown disappear to put in more housing or construct a Target. People only see the land for what they can get from it materially, not what they can experience from it emotionally or spiritually. People don't just stop and feel anymore. I appreciated Muir's experience.