Deep Map of the College of Wooster Campus

FRESH AIR FOR

A STRESSED

FRESHMAN

Potted Plants

and what lays beyond

the WINDOWSILL

Deep Map of the College of Wooster Campus

My freshman year of college I lived in Wagner Hall on the north end of campus. I loved living in Wagner because it felt secluded from the rest of campus. The dorm felt like a separate entity and had a tight-knit sense of community. My favorite part of living in Wagner, however, had nothing to do with the dorm building or the people living there. My favorite part was a big oak tree on the back side of the building. It stands tall with branches stretching out creating a canopy of shade, as well as ample room for birds and squirrels to scurry overhead. In the fall and spring, on warmer days, I did all of my work sitting under this tree. I felt as if I was a part of the landscape around me, much as Thoreau must have felt at Walden Pond when he stated, "wherever I sat, there I might live, and the landscape radiated from me accordingly" (165). The tree provided a sense of comfort for me. It gave me a close by place to go where I could easily escape without being bothered.

On a good day this tree amplified my mood, and on rougher days it would minimize my troubles. I would spend hours in the shadow of this big tree. I would rest by back up against its trunk and look out at the world and lose myself in my thoughts, or I would bury my face in a textbook and power through my homework. If trees were considered to be friends, this tree would be mine. It helped me block out the world around me, sometimes allowing me to dream of the distant rolling hills. I dreamed of climbing high up into this tree, as I climbed up into the trees in my yard as a child. If I could climb its branches, there would be a reward of breathtaking views. This tree overlooks the soccer and baseball fields. Beyond the campus, there are beautiful rolling fields and a white barn of on a distant farm. This oak tree behind Wagner was not one of the oaks that helped me decide to come to the College of Wooster, but it did help get me through my freshman year. I found comfort under the leaves of this tree, and that allowed me to remember to breathe during all of the new stresses that come with being a college freshman.

Subtle nature

In the windowsill of my Douglass dorm room sit three little planters. Two contain aloe plants and the third contains three little cacti. These plants are my way of bringing nature indoors. Having plants in my windowsill isn’t something I do just at college. At home, I have seven plants. Each plant means something different to me. These plants in my dorm room tie me not only to nature, but also to my home. I take care of these plants, making sure they get sunlight and water. In return, they provide me with a more exotic and colorful view. There is something special about watching these plants grow. With just water and sunlight they survive and flourish. There is also a sense of responsibility I encounter with having these potted plants. Cacti and aloe are not natural to Ohio. These plants did not choose to grow here. If left out in colder weather for too long they will not survive. I decided to have these plants, and in a sense, I feel responsible for their lives. If they dehydrate or freeze, that is on me. It is interesting the way we control nature for our purposes. For, these potted plants are nature to me, even if they are not the growing naturally in their intended habitat. I can’t imagine my windowsill without them.

Beyond the plants in my windowsill, stands a tree. I can see the top of this tree and through all of its leaves, a perk of hiking up three flights of stairs. Beyond the tree lays the residental quad and beyond that, one can see the outlines of the academic buildings. Having a room that looked out over the south side of campus was very important to me when deciding where to live. I wanted to be able to look out at more than just cars parked on asphalt. I spend a great deal of time in my room doing work and relaxing. By creating an environment where the outdoors do not feel cut off from the indoors allows me to feel less confined. When I wake up in the morning, I see the rising sun light up this tree and my plants. Like Thoreau, "every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with nature herself" (171). My room is as close to Thoreau's cabin as I could get. It is quiet, and I can see faintly see in the distance the oak grove, a reminder of why I chose to attend the College of Wooster. The elements of nature in and around my room make it feel separated from the hustle and bustle of the rest of campus.

As I leave and enter my building each day, I walk past an "immortal leaf". A careful eye looking down at the ground can find this leaf too. The preservation of this leaf is as beautiful as the leaf itself must have been. I only wish I could have seen it fall from the tree into the fresh concrete. Each time I pass by this leaf, I wonder how many other students walk by it without even noticing. Students with their faces buried in their phones missing the concrete leaf and the real leaves falling around them. A leaf print in concrete is a pretty simple thing, but does that make it insignificant? The concrete captured the outline, stem, and veins of the leaf. Without looking up, I can tell it fell from a silver maple tree. This snapshot of a fallen leaf is a reminder of the natural processes taking place around us every day. Trees grow and drop their leaves in the fall and then bud and regrow their leaves in the spring. No one does this for them or taught them how. Each trees’ leaves turn a different color and fall at different times; each tree is an individual. This natural phenomena should resonate with college students. While we are all here to learn we were each born knowing how to do things. We each have an innate personality and individual abilities. Nature can quickly become a background on a college campus, but if the time is taken to slow down maybe nature has just as many lessons to teach as the professors lecturing in the buildings. Thoreau believed this when he embarked on his Walden experiment he proclaimed, “ I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when I came to die, discover I had not lived” (172). Without experiencing nature, we are missing out on the world around us. Simple things can sometimes teach us the most.

Liz Stanis

My Happy Place

Trees, hammocks, sports, and nature making a COMEBACK

Three trees stand the perfect distance apart from each other on the southwest side of the residential quad. I identify the ideal length being a distance my hammock straps can reach with enough tension that my hammock is low enough for me to get into but high enough I do not touch the ground when I am in it. This location on the backside of the quad is my favorite place to hammock because of the surrounding environment. When I look up from my hammock, I can see the clouds floating above the stretched out branches of the trees. Off to one direction, I can see the quad. While a large manicured grass field is not the most natural scenery, the quad represents a way I enjoy nature. Multiple times a week I tie up the laces on my cleats and practice ultimate on the quad. For me playing ultimate is a personal way to interact with nature. I love feeling the sun on my back as I sprint down the field towards a disc or the feeling of rain pouring down during a scrimmage. With two hour practices, four times a week ultimate creates a slot of time where I know I will get to spend time outdoors. As I sit in my hammock and look over the quad, I see more than a field of grass. I see a space where students are learning life lessons in teamwork and accountability, while making friends.

If I look the other direction from my hammock, I see something very different. Whereas the quad is man manipulating nature, from my hammock I can also see nature taking over man. Brick pathways are a staple of the College of Wooster campus. From my hammock, I can see one of these pathways. This pathway, however, seems to be forgotten. Grass now grows freely between the bricks, while moss now grows on the faces. Each spring I watch this path disappear just a little more. As I look at this path, I find myself wondering what the rest of campus would look like if the grounds crew stop working or if humans were no longer in the area. Would vines grow up the side of Douglass Hall to my third-floor dorm room? Would nature take over the academic buildings? Humans take and take from nature, this path is a reminder of how resilient nature truly is. Sitting in my hammock observing the natural and non-natural enviornment around me I am learning things that a teacher would be unable to teach in any class. Thoreau went into the woods, “instead of calling on some scholar,” and there he, “paid many a visit to particular trees…” (254). Like Thoreau, I find that I frequent these particular three trees. They foster my inquisitive mind and provide a happy place for me to string up my hammock, lay down, and think.

The college of ooster

When asked how I decided to go to the College of Wooster out of the tweleve schools I applied to, my answer is simple, the trees. Although, the founding of the school, now known as the College of Wooster, occurred in 1870, I did not discover the college until 2016. As a senior in high school, I visited many small liberal arts colleges across the Midwest, following in the footsteps of my parents. At the start of my college visiting journey, my dad told me about his first visit to Grinnell College, his Alma Mater. He described how it was the first warm day of spring where the sun was shining on everything in the most surreal way. Within an instant he knew that Grinnell was where he wanted to attend college. My dad hoped I would have a similar experience. I first visited the College of Wooster in March of 2016. The light from the sun radiated everywhere, and the trees and flowers were beginning to bloom. Standing in the famous oak grove amongst trees planted by former graduating classes, as well as a white oak from 1776 and a black oak from 1681, I knew the college was going to be my home for the next four years. As Thoreau escaped society by moving to Walden Pond, I found my escape, from the urban life I had grown accustom to, at the College of Wooster.

path of destruction

In many cases, nature cannot overcome the constant pressures put upon it by humans. A perfect example of this is a worn dirt path in front of Burton D. Morgan Hall. Our quest to get to where we need to be in the quickest way possible has led to the creation of many worn paths across campus that branch off of the main sidewalks. Without thinking of the work grounds crew does or the negative environmental impact, students march up and down this dirt path, for it saves them thirty more seconds than taking the sidewalk would. Each footstep compacts the soil. Each footstep crushes any chance of new growth. When this worn dirt path gets walked on it affects more than the grass trying to grow. It affects any soil life trying to survive. This degradation to soil life, in turn, is changing that entire little island of growth. Why should anyone care though? When taking this dirt path, the choice is made to save time at the cost of destroying nature, even if made unknowningly.

The idea of harming nature for human benefit is not an anomaly seen in shortcut paths across college campuses. These shortcuts are the equivilent to creating highways even though side roads already exist. Should the entire College of Wooster campus be paved? Without trees and grass getting in the way, getting from point a to point b would undoubtedly be faster. This path while small in scale is detrimental to the land it cuts across, much like the train tracks that cut behind Walden Pond. The argument that the grass itself is not natural and therefore is also just man abusing the landscape is a fair one. While the grass may not be what would be found on this section of land before man reached Wooster, it does provide a more natural habitat than the sidewalks and roads. The grass is home to many small insects, animals, and other microscopic soil life. I like Thoreau believe, that humans should, “enjoy the land but own it not” (259). Thoreau would most likely be appalled by the fact that I am using this quote to defend a college planting grass on a small patch of land, but the alternative is to live in an asphalt paved world. We cannot take little pieces of nature for granted, or they too will disappear in our hurry to live life as fast as possible.

The edge of the world

Dirty Hands

and education

Beyond the edge of campus lies a whole world. Beyond the edge of campus, one can find rolling hills and farm fields. Beyond the stereotypical midwestern landscape lie mountains, oceans, and canyons. I was born in the midwest and have spent my entire life here. I may spend my whole life living in the midwest, but that does not mean my sights should stop where the corn and soybean fields end. Each of us should strive to know an unfamiliar landscape. We should push our borders. There are new experiences and lessons to be learned in each new place one visits. As I have traveled away from home and my comfort zone I have learned more about myself and what is important to me. When Thoreau journeyed to Walden Pond he did not close off the rest of the world. He continued to interact with society and explore other places. The College of Wooster campus offers students a home. If a student fails to leave the comforts of this home, however, they will never know the bogs, farms, and woods that lie beyond.

I run my fingers through the dirt and take a deep breath. Time around me seems to slow, and all worries disappear. My sole focus becomes the plants in front of me. Months ago I carefully dug small holes and placed seedlings in them. I have been watering these seedlings and weeding out their competition since. The seedlings have grown and now provide for me in return. At home, I would find myself surrounded by squash, beans, tomatoes, corn, and many other vegetables and herbs. Here at the College of Wooster, I am harvesting different greens such as mustard, collards, lettuce, and chard. I find gardening to be the most satisfying work in the world. Constant labor finds reward in a bountiful harvest. I learned at a young age through gardening that lazy work leads to a meager result. I also learned to have a deep respect for nature and the world around me.

While living at Walden Pond Thoreau started gardening. His recount in “The Bean-Field” resonates with anyone who has a passion for gardening. When describing his bean fields, Thoreau states, “I came to love my rows, my beans, though so many more than I wanted. They attached me to the earth, and so I got strength like Antaeus” (219). For me gardening, while a passion of mine, has also always been a love-hate relationship. Picking green beans is tedious work that typically ends with my back aching. For this, I resent my beans. Countless summers I have had the wind knock down my corn. When it isn’t the wind, it’s the deer. Yet, at the end of the day, I realize I would not trade away the backache or frustration for anything. The reaping makes the sowing and everything in-between worth it.

I was worried that I would have to abandon my passion for gardening at the start of my freshman year. Fortunately, there is a learning garden on campus and a class with a gardening lab. This course quickly became my favorite and encouraged me to try new techniques. My new knowledge was implemented that very summer after my freshman year in my personal garden with the construction of a compost bin. Having the ability to compost strengthened my connection to my garden, therefore, strengthening my relationship with the land. To garden efficiently one must know and understand the soil around them. Thoreau through his beans was able to connect to his surroundings in a way he otherwise would not have been able to. Gardeners see more than just a patch of dirt. They observe soil comprised of sand, silt, clay, and various small, even microscopic life. They understand nature in a way that is overlooked by many.