Last night Nature’s progression became an inconvenience for man. A storm moved in. As the skies filled with moisture, turning every shade of gray, and replaced the sun-streaked blue and white landscape from the early afternoon with a dark tumultuous atmosphere in the evening, I drove my cantankerous automobile over limbs and leaves, which swirled in circular motions around me. The machine was angry at the wind and fought for control every mile of the way. Wind-felled trees lined the path, some resting on power lines, others prostrate on concrete walkways. I loved every minute of it.
Chaos is relative. A tree scoffs at the fear of a lamp-less night. While hoards of denizens rushed to department stores to purchase candles, the trees settled down. The winds ceded to the sprinkle of rain and clearer skies as swiftly as they began. The remnants of their work are still being tended to by engineers and manual laborers today. As my friends and I sat in a candle-lit room talking, laughing, and planning with the flicker of flame barely exposing our faces, I realized the gift the trees gave to us this night. Connection. Without distraction, we were left with each other. Without a program to discuss, we were left with personal thoughts and insights. Without mechanical illumination, our spirits grew. My spirit felt absolved from man’s invention. It was one of the best night’s I have had in a long time.
While reading (Aldo) Leopold outside of a coffee house my focus grew in strength. I sat and pondered nature’s peace.
Moisture hangs from the heavens and shrouds everything. Leaves lay calm and battered from the night before. Broken trees, relieved of the unseen tension which lead to their demise, are mourned and pondered over by DOT workers and farmers alike. There is no breeze. There is no rain. Only beauty and wonder.
I gathered my things. Keys, cellphone, and coffee. I noted the balding tire on my driver’s side and dreaded the cost of the replacement. I remotely unlocked my car door and entered the machine. While driving down I-85, I began to think about my environmental sins. Despite the label on my automobile, emissions, no matter how certifiably low, are absolutely damaging everything green and dear to my soul. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a license plate. It was from a state I have never been to: West Virginia. Below its six-digit numeric code it read: “Wild, Wonderful.” My mind shifted from sin to delight. As I thought of the fear, anxiety, and anger which ran rampant through the streets of Athens last night, I was grateful to be spared of those desolate feelings. I felt invigorated by the storm. It was as if the words lept from the aluminum plate and into my mind giving definition to what I felt as the limbs of oak, pine, and hickory shook, fell, and landed all around me. Wild, Wonderful.
Anthony Sadler 