In which I get too deep about my relationship with nature

So I’ve been thinking about Dr. Gottfried’s question of when we were last in nature, and I’m not sure where nature “is”. My initial thought was the hike I took with my sister over spring break in the mountains, where we slugged through mud and snow, and talked for hours. Spending time with my sister seems completely natural, yet I felt out of place there on the mountain. I don’t hike often, and that was her home not mine. I was just a visitor on that wooded path—I was an outsider, admiring the beauty of it all. I’m not out in nature very often, so maybe I’m just not used to the quiet or calm or warped sense of time. Don’t get me wrong though, it was beautiful and I enjoyed myself but more for the company than the place. It’s almost like I was uncomfortable in nature. I felt like I was trespassing on something so much greater than myself, and that seemed wrong. But I also think maybe these are times where most people aren’t comfortable out in nature because we’re not used to it. Or maybe it’s just me.

I also realized I was kind of out in nature Wednesday afternoon. I got out of class early and the sun was shining, so I went for a walk. I ambled around downtown and the park, then I found a bench and sat with my eyes closed and face turned toward the sun. I love that feeling (and now have sunburn) but does that count as nature? It’s a manmade park with neatly cut grass and it’s right next to a road and neighborhood. Does my little slice of sun merit being considered “nature”? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t, but it feels more nature-y to me because I feel at home in it.