Place Where You Live:

Chestertown, MD

Sitting cross-legged on the border that separates land and creek, I compare the sticks to trash that has floated ashore. I twist and pull on the stick until it snaps. I move onto the white shard of plastic, but it refuses to break down. Picking it up, I walk the beach to find more man-made blemishes that taint the riverscape. Looking up, I catch sight of the Canadian geese taking flight into the sunset; a feeling of peace consumes me. The sound of the tractor can be made out over the geese calls. Just as the farmers have cultivated the land with soybeans and corn for over a hundred years, the land has raised me in return. I am part of the farm and I take a part of its spirit with me wherever I go.  From every crevice, every tree, every pothole in the dirt lane, I know the landscape. 

 So many children spend their childhoods inside buildings. Although houses have a distinct feel to them, there is no substitute for being outdoors. Suburban houses lack respect to the land, they look like they fell from the sky. My house has ivy windingg up the front windows and the lack of central heating and air conditioning makes going outside less of a shock to your system. The weather outside is evident when you are inside. When I spend the night at friends’ houses, they use blankets in the summer because the air conditioning is so high.  I do not have blinds over my windows; I use the sun to wake up in the morning. There are so many windows in the farm house, making artificial light unnecessary. This direct relationship with the light is what makes it possible to live close by nature. To be in harmony with my home, I accept the weather; I do not try to tamper or disguise any part of nature. The farm has taught me to be patient and accept what the universe has to offer.