Memories of how it use to be!

So back in Language Arts, we had a whole section on transcendentalism and nature. We had to write a nature letter to a random person describing what we saw after a 5 minute "field trip" to the forest behind the school. I was not there because of Governor's Honors Program first round interviews, so i had to come up with the letter on the metaphorical "spot". Looking back this is one of the better papers i wrote for that class, and with all the assignments we had, that is saying a lot.
so without further ado:

Dear reader,

Nature is a beautiful thing. Nothing can truly separate us from that fact. Tales have been told of its beauty, songs sung of its majesty, and psalms written of its tenderness. When we are one with nature we are but one with ourselves. We define what little is left of the marvelous little that occupies the grandeur of the heart. But how can something with so many dangers be so beautiful? The way I see it, nature all in the balance, we hold the key to the sparrows song and the mountains mists and the splendor of the fall.

I was out in the forest one day. What a marvelous sight to behold! The trees surrendered to the might of the wind; their leaves flowed freely as if golden extensions of the rising sun’s rays. The chill of the morning air settled onto my bare skin numbing the extensions of my essence to a point of almost no return. The sight was miraculous. I could see the ripples of the water as geese glided gracefully down with majestic quacks to alert of their presence. The withered gold that fell from dyeing or dead branches to the firm ground beneath. I could hear the gentle shift of gravel as a squirrel scurried across trying to find a perfect place to bury its nutty treasures. Life was beginning to awaken.

Can you imagine the fanfare at a royal celebration, or a holiday festival? The trumpets blazing their song, the music constantly changing rhythms and beats, the gaiety of the many famous persons carried across the dark black asphalt. I too saw these sights, yet in a very different form. The wind began its frolic through the branches and hollows of nearby trees. The echo would reverberate through my very bones, causing them to rattle with gleeful chills. I heard the territorial chirps of jays and larks as they called out their greeting to the morning sun. I heard the soft rustle of leaves as energetic squirrels chased each other with such energy and passion as would rival the most rambunctious youth. I saw the gleaming notes of the sun echo off the surface of the lake, bringing about the calm of a chime in the minds cavernous imagination. I heard the joining of the rhythmic pattern of small waves hitting the rocky shore of the lake. This was beauty. This was celebration.

Can this calm be contested by the dangers out there? I believe not. Too much music can cause ruckus, can it not. The bird does eat the frolicking squirrel and the many predators of the wild do each commit their own atrocities. Yet it is these pauses, these rests, these interruptions to all the noise, which brings about certain calm that is yet to be surpassed. Time always ends; life is but the cannon echoing the verses of nature. I therefore beseech you to take not what little time you have left in certain ungratefulness. No matter how far you are from nature, or how stressed you are by your surroundings, take time to enjoy the settings that nature has provided. Can you still hear its melodious sonnet?

Sincerely,

Corneliu Radu Rodila