EcoLit ESem

Fall is my favorite time of the year. The brevity of the transition between Summer and Winter leaves something for want, and I find that my longest walks are during those crisp, scarf weather autumn days. Today, I will not be writing about my usual spot out behind Rhoades, but instead will be remembering a walk into the woods that I took after having the "botanical" tour with Rachel and Graham. At one point, I remembered that they had showed my group a plant that mimicked native species in order to survive. The three plants that they showed us looked almost exactly the same, but had three distinct smells that distinguished them from one another. This "chameleon" plant was thriving in the forest, even though it wasn't native to the area. As I returned to this site after out tour, I began thinking about how the human race has adapted ecologically to our environment--and how our reaction to our natural surroundings couldn't be more opposite to that of the "chameleon" plant. Would we have been better off if we had taken a similar approach? Instead of destroying and abusing our natural surroundings, what if we could have mimicked them? If this were the case, there certainly wouldn't be the problem of the green-house effect (at least on a large scale), no oil spills--pollution would be eliminated to almost nothing. If we were like the "chameleon" plant, we would have learned from nature in order to thrive and still be able to compete for resources. How could we have done this?

What a weekend. Saturday I spent a very full, very incredible 12 hours in New York City. I had been once before with my parents doing all the touristy stuff people do, but this Saturday I went with my friend Kara who knew all the secret, wonderful details of the city. While we were there we visited one of my best friends from high school, Jim, who goes to the Pratt Institute of Art in Brooklyn. I think we were both a little taken back to see each other in such an urban setting, so different from the suburban/rural setting of Lawrence, Kansas. We spent lunch reminiscing (read: gossiping) about old friends and a dearly loved town that felt worlds away. Jim reminded me about everything I love about home and my hometown. After having that conversation sitting on the moon bench right now makes me think about everything I love about good old Lawrence, KS. Fall looks the same in both places, squirrels race in the treetops above and the forrest floor below. I can see the occasional person traversing the green, and leaves fall like rain. I love fall, I love home, and I love Bryn Mawr. The moon bench really made me think of home today in all the best ways possible. Even though there weren't many people out I could feel the community around me buzzing. I feel the same way sitting in a park in Lawrence as I do sitting on the moon bench. What a weekend. 

Today was the most perfect fall day in the tree. I wasn't cold at all, or excessively warm. (Note: I did not have to do jumping jacks. Any day that I don't have to do jumping jacks to stay warm is a pretty good day) I was a bit skeptical when I approached the tree, because its leaves have not turned to a shocking red or a bright yellow, but a slightly icky in-between color of caramel, yellow, and light green. (On one leaf! The horror!) But the leaves inside the tree were (thank goodness!) a nicer yellow, with fewer dead leaves. The air was crisp, but the slight breeze that tickled the outside of the tree, didn't touch me. There was enough light to see under the tree, and, when I emerged, a slight pink was blending with the blue sky at the horizon. It was a good day.

Today I sat on the lawn behind Carpenter library, looking at the grass searching for “intruders” - other species of plants that was not grass. Perhaps because I didn’t have the knowledge of a biologist, the only two different species I can found on the land dominated by grass were clover and a kind of vine I cannot name of.

I learned from “ecological imaging 313” group that though some plant look very alike, they taste different, they smell different and they could be poisonous and nonpoisonous. Should I bow down to smell the grass if any of them has a different scent? Maybe I should, but I didn’t.

Do I want to find something different among the grass. I am not sure. The green is intended to grow nothing but grass. But what if all green grows nothing but grass? Would it be too simple, too plain, too dull? Yet, I don’t want to see chaos on the green. I don’t expect to see tomatoes, squashes and roses crowded together. That is too complex, too messy, too confusing.

Bryn Mawr going co-ed? To me, that would be just like transferring a peaceful grass field to an extravagant garden. Eveything that was good about a grass field will be lost. I do not want that.

A man (suspicious male on campus!) approached me today as I walked toward my site. He asked me a few questions about the college (undergrad pop, graduates, etc) and ended his brief interrogation by asking if there was any "talk about going co-ed" for the undergraduate college. I replied with an emphatic no, not only because I feel personally that that would be a step backward for the school, but that I believe there would be strong opposition from current students and alumni. Who in the college would suggest such a change? Why did this man think it was relavant? Who was this guy, anyway? If BMC did go coed, how would that change the learning environment or the campus? I think, first of all, the the actual phisical campus would be dirtier in someways, but it would also be more lively, especially on the weekends. I dont think it would hurt to actually see people out at BM on Friday or Saturday nights, it's actually a very sleepy place during those times. The deserted feeling is not a pleasant one. What kinds of men would be attracted to Bryn Mawr? Would it just be another liberal arts school? Personally I think there is not enough room around Philadelphia for another coed liberal arts institution. Just one of the many reasons BM should remain all-female, even if that does exclude possibly interesting minds from living and learning here.

It was cold behind the English House this morning. I could feel it mostly on the tips of my body. The leaves on the trees and the ones on the ground were not as colorful as they were last time. It was not as hard to take it all in. Everything seemed a bit more dull. The leaves were not falling as quickly as they were last time, probably because there were not as many that needed to fall. I sat on the little wooden stool this time instead of on the ground. As I looked out over the yard I considered whether or not it was a wild place. Wild like a human mother who embraces her inner mother bear, and who is not afraid to rise to anger, or settle into intense love. I decided that it wasn’t. Because I think if the back yard of the English House had a choice it would not grow that way it’s growing now. It wouldn’t be so neat. Now it’s  tame yard, similar to a woman who has been taught that it’s not feminine to show aggression. But for the yard, I think that’s okay.

My mind was filled with memories. I just talked to my childhood friend. Our friendship started since the carefree summers when we were playing on the rice field in the neighborhood everyday. It felt so good to immerse myself in nature, with grasshoppers, with wild flowers and with a good friend. So today I decided to reconnect with nature again, the way I used to do. Having put off my shoes, I started walking barefoot on the grass lawn behind Rhoads. It did not feel really comfortable at first, with the little itching and tickling feeling as grass touched my feet soles. That there might be something like an insect in the grass added to my reluctance. But as I kept on walking, and breathing in the fresh air, listening to the sounds of nature, I felt connected. Without shoes, I felt myself getting closer and closer to the earth, to the nature. Without a barrier between my skin and the ground, I felt more balance and control over myself, too. And my feet experienced more freedom. Walking barefoot with the cool and soft grass was like a massage, so refreshing and pleasant. The experience was very much different from those I had as a child playing with her friend, yet a physical contact with nature made me feel younger…

I was wondering after our conversation today in class if anyone has been inspired to action by any of our readings in class? I mean, I would assume that's what the authors would like to see is people transitioning from words to deeds, but I am interested to see if that is actually happening. If you haven't 'done' anything yet, do you plan to? If you haven't been inspired to affect change, why not? 

Marilyn Waring's work, Counting for Nothing, presents the role of women as an invaluable asset whose value needs to be imputed in the gross domestic product of the nation. Waring analyzes and criticizes different ways economists have attempted to measure women's domestic labor (household labor and production), such as measuring opportunity cost, but doesn't ever present her own suggestion for its measurement. That got me brainstorming; how do you place a value on women's domestic labor? We could argue that reproduction, or the act of raising a child is intangible capitol as an asset that cannot be physically measured. Waring also believes that imputing value on reproduction wouldn't be morally correct. However, almost every other part of women's household labor can be physically measured in the economy. First, I thought that measuring value at a per/hour salary rate would be the easiest way to calculate women's domestic product. However, I forgot to take into account the different level of skill it takes for a woman to do various jobs--it really varies from cleaning to cooking to maintenance, all of which correspond to different careers with different salaries in the economy. A little of topic (but isn't that what our Serendip postings are for? :))...this past weeks reading reminded me of a discussion my AP English class had senior year. We wanted to calculate what a human life was worth. First, we thought of life insurance, but then realized that was just people paying to have risk taken away from them.