College is great, but I am often finding myself craving the taste of the outdoors. Not just the general space that is literally out the door, but the outdoors. The places away from heavy human presence. The spaces where you are completely surrounded by nature. On that note, here is a semi-poetic rhapsody based on my personal experiences with what I consider to be some of the best features of the earth:

There is something oddly magical about aimlessly wandering through a seemingly endless path of tilted trees, reaching their elongated arms toward the sun as if they were worshipping sheer curtains of gold in the cold breath of the early morning.

There is something profound in the way the mountains seem to stretch themselves for miles on end like gentle giants who have been in a peaceful sleep for millenniums.

There is something beautiful in an untouched landscape—the raw palette of colors and air so distinctly crisp that make you feel like you are somewhere out of this world.

There is something so healing about the stillness of the water, but only so that it still shivers when the wind brushes the surface, or when a leaf gently falls and glides on with no particular destination.

There is something magnificent in the way the clouds grow into great masses, clashing together, causing an epic ongoing rumble and roar throughout the sky. Astonishing amounts of rain pour down, and the once still-standing waters swell and imitate the vivacity above.

There is something painfully mesmerizing in the way the earth breathes. Drawing in the residue of what we put on the ground, the tainted air, and the fetid water. Trying so desperately to rid of the toxicity we endanger it with, just so it can once again exhale and continue to give life to its most wonderful creations.