During one stormy night, I find limited protection by sleeping in a deteriorating World War II concrete army bunker, and while the tides are beautiful to watch on a peaceful day, the storm wakes me to the power and violence they can generate. I discover not only that I am drawn toward the geography of edges but am in sympathy with this margin of the world. When I finally decide to catch a train back home to interior suburban Long Island, it is not because I have been lonely or frightened living wild on the beach but because I have been taught by the landscape about the basic ebb-and-flow rhythm of life and I know it is time for me to return to my mother’s house.
*Note: This is an excerpt from the essay “Tidal:Subtidal” originally published in Companions in Wonder: Children and Adults Exploring Nature Together edited by Julie Dunlap and Stephen R. Kellert (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2012). I have the right to republish.
Pages: 1 2