Diario de taylertheking

Like the Redwoods Do - 4/9/22 Trillium Falls

You think the world is burning
When your house is on fire
Trying to tell the weather
Hanging from a wire

Etch my name
Into a tree
So strangers can learn
And then forget me

You won't know I'm charred
Till you open me up
Like a dormant volcano
That'll never erupt

I hope I survive
When the fire comes through
So I can tell my tale for centuries
Like the Redwoods do.

Shooting Star, Death Wish - 4/6/22 Mount Diablo

I saw a shooting star today!
But it erupted from the ground
And was accompanied by golden ray
And to nowhere it was bound

It was a flower, I jest
The name a peculiar thing
But I saw it as I rest
My head in this earthen sink

And the poppies fill my nose
With sleep, but not enough
To make my eyes close
As the candle snuffs

I can't enjoy the nature
All I can think of is death.
If only the green could cure
So I could enjoy every breath.

Oconoee Bells 3/31/22 - Highlands Biological Station

The river doesn't know
The hemlock still sway
Rhododendron will grow
And this log will decay

The stream doesn't know
That my heart is swollen with pain
It still rolls down the rock
Just like every other day

The hemlock don't care
That I despise this mortal coil
Their objective is to survive
Clinging to the soil

Rhododendron will spread
Once I get out of the way
For only when I die
Will they get to see the sunny day

And I will lie in Oconoee Bells
As the black-bellies climb in my ears
Ans the pebbles'll flow down to Georgia
On the river of my tears

2/28/22:

Oasis (noun): a fertile spot in the desert, where water is found.

Being in the desert had really refreshed (pun intended) my love for water. Such a simple molecule that does so much for this beautiful planet. Thus, my favorite hike was a trail to an oasis split in two by a stream.

I knew this trail was different from the very first step. Flowers were in bloom all around us and I took so much time to just breathe in the color that I had long not seen. We then happened upon a stream that has tadpoles and beautifully clear water in it. Walking alongside this stream toward the oasis of fan palms ahead, we ran into a tree frog, many hummingbirds, and some sphinx moths.

Our timing was poor with this hike, and we were walking back at sundown and had to travel at dusk, but seeing such a dry place thrive with the little bit of water available was such a wonderful surprise.

2/23/22: Apparently this day was filled with triumphant poetic revelations. Later after the rock poetry session, we as a class went to the Kelso Sand Dunes to climb them.

I think I misunderstood the task we were about to undertake because I did not prepare correctly for this adventure. I was layered in two hoodies, only ate an apple beforehand, and did not say a prayer before entering. Let me explain why I would never have climbed a 200 foot sand dune before this.

1. I am from Florida, the flattest state ever.
2. I hate sand.

Not much of an explanation, but you get the point.

The walk to the base was fine. Getting used to the terrain was a learning curve, but we saw some interesting things. Some plants are deeply rooted as an advantage in the sandy "soil". We saw an armored stink beetle, who did not blend with the pale sand, but walked confidently regardless. We also saw lots of scat that are semblances of life unseen.

My friend, JC, was the main motivator up the dune. I often thought "After this dune, I am done.", but JC kept saying behind me "You're doing so well, Tayler, keep it up!." Just having the motivation behind me kept me from quitting. The last dune was hardest. It was the steepest, windiest, and most tiring to forge a path on.

But when JC and I reached the top of the dune (the last of the group), I felt like a conqueror. We celebrated and took pictures and shared relieved smiles with each other.

And as I scooted down the dune, hearing the sand sing to me, I finally understood why people climb mountains.

02/23/22: First real day at the Norris Camp and Teaching Area in the Granite Mountains began with a hike to find the spring that might lead to a promise of birds and mammals. I was following the group on a trail that I believed to lead us to this spring. As my fellow peers got distracted by various plants, I continued on this trail. Eventually, I turned around to see that no one was nearby me and I had strayed from the group. Rather than turn around to find them again, I decided to continue on the trail until I found an adequate sitting rock.

There came a time when I lost the trail, but found the rock, so I decided to sit. I would learn the next day that the trail continues to the top of the ridge and would have a very intimate conversation with a new friend there. Likewise, I sat on this rock and stared at the horizon of mountains. The night prior was one with snowfall, the first snow I had ever seen as a native Floridian. The air was cold, the ground damp. I chose this space to reflect on the nature around me and how I related to them in regards to my personal relationships. Then, I began to write a poem that I later finished and presented to my class:

Maybe Tomorrow It Will Rain by Tayler King

When I was told the desert was desolate, I thought it absurd.

But only when I sat on this stone did I understand that this deafening silence was one I had always heard.

I, like the toads, bury myself beneath the dirt while it is dry and think,
Maybe tomorrow it will rain.
I, like the flowers, take up as little space as possible, I shrink,
Because maybe tomorrow it will rain.

I, like the ocotillo, wait to show my leaves
Maybe tomorrow it will rain.
I, like the creosote, take love and hoard it from thieves
Maybe tomorrow it will rain.

I, like the mesquite, reach deep, so deep
I, like the gray fox, I creep and creep
I, like the finch, don’t make a peep
And I, on this rock, fear to make the leap.

But as I watch the snow melt into the earth, turning the plants green and making the flowers bloom,
I hope that one day it will rain for me too.