Personal Narrative-Serene Landscapes Of Nature

William Stafford’s “Traveling through the Dark” tells, in a conversational storytelling voice, of the speaker’s experience and thought processes as he encounters a deer dead on a narrow road at night. Knowing that on a road as narrow as this it is best to roll the deer into the canyon rather than swerving, the speaker begins to move the deer but realizes it still carries a fawn, warm and alive. At this discovery he hesitates, not wanting to be the killer of the fawn despite not having harmed the doe. In the end, alone in the wilderness, he chooses to push the doe, with her fawn, off the edge of the road.

Our yearly pilgrimage to our deer lease in Menard, Texas starts every year on the first Friday in November. To get there we head four hours north thru the sprawling metropolis of San Antonio, full of its traffic and impatient drivers. Upon leaving the city limits of San Antonio, we head west towards Kerrville and the landscape starts to change drastically. No longer are we driving on flat land but now the car is climbing small hills and the road winds. We drive in this direction until we reach the vast acres of ranch land located on a lonely farm road between the small cities of Junction and Menard. If you drive too fast down the winding road, you will miss the old metal gate that is almost hidden by brush trees. My husband is the hunter, yet I love to come with him, because this is the place, where I disconnect from the fast paced life of city dwelling and feel reconnected once again to nature and I find peace and rest here in this cactus and dirt oasis.

“Okay Reed, time to go!” My dad shouts from the garage. We had everything prepared and packed to go except for the shotgun. My dad and I have been looking at an area of public hunting land that might be good for hunting all kinds of game. We came to that conclusion after seeing a big pond and deep forests on the map. Today was going to be a day full of short lived excitement and disappointment, and I had no clue.

As we started along the trail, I worried about forgotten items and my decision to only bring one extra pair of socks. However, after a while, I became aware of a pair of birds chattering above me and the soft murmur of water trickling down a stream bed. After an hour of walking, the trail starts winding back on itself in a series of switchbacks. The chatter between my family members slows down, as we soon struggled to breathe from exhaustion. Sometimes I was hunched over so far from my load that I would stare at my rubber-toed boots and forget to look up at the majestic trees surrounding me.

It was a cool September evening and my mom was driving me from Los Angeles all the way to Johannesville. As we drove on quiet, deserted roads I stared out the passenger’s window and saw nothing but hills with tall, dry, golden-brown grasses. It certainly wasn’t anything like what you’d see in pictures of beautiful landscapes but it wasn’t too bad either, I actually kind of liked it. Looking at those golden hills rush past my window somehow relaxed me and sent me into a staring trance, my mind traveled to other-worldly places where I could let my imagination run wild.

Minutes before, Marty Gra and I were leisurely strolling away from my house. The heat throughout the day made riding almost impossible, so we had to postpone until dusk when the temperature dropped. We rode down from my barn, past my house, and down the trail to the plain to begin our ride. I was wary about the creatures living in my backyard. I knew there

It was a beautiful October afternoon as I climbed to the top of my tree stand. The sun was shining, and a slight breeze was blowing from the northwest. I knew that the deer frequented the area around my stand since my step-dad had shot a nice doe two days earlier from the same stand, and signs of deer were everywhere in the area. I had been sitting for close to two hours when I decided to stand up and stretch my legs as well as smoke a cigarette.

The drive up to the cabin was a long, twisty trail that went up a huge steep mountain and on top was a huge cabin that overlooked the mountains. The cabin had a huge set of elk antlers over the front door. I was in love with the cabin, but I couldn’t look around too long. The guide had told us that if we wanted to we could hunt that night. Jim and I didn’t think twice about it and started to get ready for the hunt.

The sound of the chirping birds awoke me. The smell of the grassy-smelling rain tickled my nose as I pried my heavy eyes open, tired from yesterday’s long day of adventuring. I squirmed out of my cozy sleeping bag, being gentle on my sore back after sleeping on the diamond-hard rock last night. I crawled out of my little compact tent as my stomach growled of hunger. I looked out to the foggy distance where the egg yolk-like sun was rising from behind the bumpy, tree-filled mountains. I gathered my hiking essentials and munched on a protein bar as I started exploring on the wet, slippery trail. Suddenly, I heard a footstep behind me. I turned around, but nothing in particular was there. I kept strolling along, observing the many species wandering

I hope you are as excited as I am about taking this last class of the program. I am enrolled as Robert France but friends and family have always called me “Jeff” (from my middle name). I live in Columbus, Ohio and have been an RN for 27 years. I finally decided to go back to school a couple of years ago to earn my BSN so that I could better serve my patients. I currently do not have plans to study for an advanced degree, but since I work at the OSU Medical Center, that may be an option in the future.

The piece I will be writing today is a journal in response to the prompt ‘Ultimately our ties to our landscape shapes our identity’. This piece will appear in an anthology of student writings on the context Imaginative Landscape published by VCAA in order to give other VCE students studying imaginative landscape insight into the ways they can creatively approach a context prompt. The piece is intended to show the reader that our landscape does shape who we are but what we make of our experience is what ultimately builds our identity. Life is going to have it ups and downs. Going through bad times or even good things in life, it doesn’t define you, but what you perceive of it decides whether you grow or shrivel under stress. Our level of connectedness

My past two weeks were spent learning the essentials of wilderness survival, singing jolly campfire songs with friends, eating beef jerky for lunch, and leading my group on hikes through pastoral meadows but now, I felt something new. In that moment, I felt touched by the metaphysical beauty of nature while I reflected upon my weeks bonding with my fellow Scouts in the vast expanse of the wilderness. I realized that I never wanted to leave the Rockies with my friends, but like all good things, it had to come to an end.

After three minutes, Isabel and I stand and push through the rest of the trail. The path remains constant for the rest of the time. Trees sway back and forth and the sun shines through the leaves making marks on the ground. As we come to reach the end of the trail, I cannot help but feel an immense sense of satisfaction for the adventure we have embarked on. I feel such a great deal of happiness. Not the happiness that comes from small, everyday tasks, but an internal joy that becomes my own. Isabel and I share this special joy. We understand nature’s values and that our own adventures lie within our reach. For most, it is hard to imagine a life away from screens, but to us and the hundreds who walk through Benson’s Animal Park everyday, it is only two minutes

As I left behind the somber forest, I now recognized an appreciation for nature that I did not realize I had. I now knew there was more to nature than just trees and animals, but also I found the

Throughout A Walk in the Woods, Bill Bryson transitions between a narrative of his journey along the Appalachian Trail and informational accounts of the history of the trail. To keep his readers engaged, Bryson includes many light-hearted moments, but he conveys the gravity of the trail through his honest assessments regarding its adversities. Bryson uses a simple style that allows the readers to follow along easily, but he includes strong imagery with higher level diction in order to better relate the essence of the trail. All of these aspects express how something simple, like the Appalachian Trail, can embody more than shallow sentiments.