Blog
Untethered as the Birds: Zip Lining in the Smoky Mountains
I feel giddy as they lead us higher, higher, higher into the sky, leaving the lush green trees that once surrounded us at our feet, and at the feet of the rugged blue peaks I now spot in the distance, shrouded in wisps of fog. The most biodiverse National Park in the United States, the Smoky Mountains smell of mist, clay, and clouds. I inhale the trees’ breath and relish the tingle of minuscule rain droplets that litter my skin, no longer fighting the inevitable merging of my once-clean body with Earth’s fingerprints.
Chasing Ghosts on Skyline Drive to Shenandoah National Park
I drive alone on black roads coiling like a snake ‘round misty blue mountains, rendered flat by haze, with nothing and no one for company but the blissful expanse of nature. I emerge from my parked vessel to stand in the middle of it and stare down a long, echoing tunnel that splits the cliff, tempting fate as the tremendous roar of an oncoming car reaches my ears. As I sprint to safety, the sound fades into the distant calls of crows and miniature waterfalls trickling down the mountain’s face.
A Walk with Moses in the National Aquarium, Baltimore
It is dark. Deep echoes like whale songs and tinkering space rain sounds submerge me, making me feel like a mermaid in a shipwreck. On either side of me, wrapping all the way around the spiraling, descending stairwell, tall panes of glass show me the quiet secrets of the ocean. I am like Moses with the red sea parted in a wall of water to his right and to his left.
Copper Castles Without Kings: Luray Caverns, VA
Long shadows spread across the ceiling from the spears that peer down at me. The fingers of God and Adam touch as a stalactite kisses a stalagmite. Drapery of stone melts down in orange sheets like icing, transparently glowing from the lights behind them. Spongy coral-like rocks adorn the ground below me and the ceiling above, giving the impression of being submerged in the depths of an empty ocean. I look up and realize the outside world—present, modern day—is just above my head, oblivious upon the crust.
A Walk in the French Quarter, New Orleans, LA
We follow the sticky-sweet powdered-sugar smell of beignets through overhanging Spanish moss, draping like abandoned sage curtains over the limbs of knobby, bayou trees: out of place among the urban landscape. French and Spanish architecture transports me to another time as our path opens up and we are on a courtyard of stone, overlooking Jackson Square.