Work deadlines barely met,
leisurely cup of coffee before and after lunch
becomes a full water bottle
because I’m thirsty again.
Self defense class turns into yoga—
strikes and strangles become
deep breaths and downward dogs because I so need the stretch.
The subtle sweat,
the tremor of tired wrists and calves
becomes a cool shower,
my week-old sunburn still showing on my shoulders.
Wet hair dries slowly on my back,
becomes blonde again,
as water turns to five glasses of red wine
on a front porch rocking chair with tacos,
and I feel the weight fall—
all that I have not done
becomes all that I still may do
A few hours forward and the rocking chair
becomes a bouncing back seat in a passenger van,
Pee Dee River bound—
the only woman on board.
morphs to 1600 acres of long leaf pines,
chord grass and wildflowers,
one corn snake, juvenile, one “bless his heart” poet and professor-turned
kid in ecology candy shop,
and more sunburn.
Wine becomes beer on a back porch by black water,
sliding sluggishly by as we sit and rock and talk.
Sunny day driving stakes becomes a sunset bonfire with gumbo
and beer after beer;
seven seniors sleep scattered on the back porch—
ready for every kind of
In the same way that,
paddling the Pacolet for that first lab
becomes paddling the Pacolet
one last time,
one day I become aware
that I cannot control
I cannot control Today.
I cannot control Time.
And here I am,
twenty-two years in,
finally catching the drift.
It’s too much to paddle upstream
a river you were always meant to glide.
It amazes me
how tired I didn’t know I was.
When the river carries me,
I can carry so much more.
Only after a million little momentary test floats,
in which I did not crash
and the world did not end,
do I dare stop paddling.
I dare to rest my desperate hands
and rely on the rudder within,
if only between the river bends.
And whether I end up in Ireland,
On the coast of California,
in Central Park,
Or a tiny mountain town in Western North Carolina, I find that I always arrive on time, and so paddling becomes reserved
for actual rivers.
First draft written May 2017, and it’s been floating around in my head since then, so I thought it deserved a place to live.
I had a cute postgrad blog post planned, but today I have something more important–and something more urgent–to say instead. This post is inspired by a Facebook post I saw from multiple people in the past week, three-hour drives to and from Winston Salem, and lots of coffee.
“Great Barrier Reef dead at 25 Million” reads a New York Post headline from Oct. 2016.
Snopes says it’s not true… yet. That doesn’t mean that the world’s largest coral reef system isn’t about to flatline in the next few years, especially since 2016 was an especially devastating year for the GBR:
A survey of the extent and severity of coral bleaching between March and June 2016 conducted by the Australian Government’s Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority and released on 13 October 2016 found that:
22 percent of coral on the Reef died due to the worst mass bleaching event on record. Eighty-five percent of this mortality occurred in the 600 kilometer stretch between the tip of Cape York and just north of Lizard Island (Snopes).
Also according to Snopes: “The latest surveys indicate that 93% of the individual reefs in the GBR have suffered some degree of bleaching, with reefs in the north the most severely affected. Australia’s marine biodiversity, and the jobs and economic prosperity that the reef supports, is under grave threat.”
I have three things to say about this situation and one multi-faceted response:
Firstly, prematurely declaring the GBR dead could impact efforts to save it… doomsday thinking is usually more harmful than helpful to environmentalists, as much as we love to talk about thresholds from which we cannot return. I’m reminded of Christian rhetoric in particular that calls us to “fill the earth and subdue it,” a phrase which holds a very different connotation than stewardship, and implies very little respect for the earth. This is specially true when combined with end-times doctrine that perpetuates greedy usage of what’s here now instead of preserving for the future. Understanding the dire nature of a problem is important. But we cannot declare something impossible to save if there’s something left to try (Like, I don’t know…. supporting the Paris Agreement, or recognizing that CO2 is definitely a huge contributor to climate change, or allowing scientists to study climate without censoring them or cutting their programs entirely. Just a few ideas.)
Secondly, the visibility of this issue matters… and it should move people to action. I grew up learning about the Great Barrier Reef in school, hearing that coral bleaching was becoming a problem and that an increase in global temperatures was changing the acidity of ocean waters and creating a nearly irreversible trend in bleaching. But many people don’t know about coral reef bleaching at all, much less that the Great Barrier Reef is in danger of succumbing to it. On the one hand, it’s a great thing that so many people are now concerned about the GBR, whether or not they’ve been there. I’m hopeful that the attention it’s getting moves people to make a change, now that they’ve seen what we’re in danger of losing. This is a serious, visible result of climate change… maybe some people will finally be convinced that human actions do have consequences, and that climate change is something to pay attention to instead of ignoring it.
With our current administration denouncing the Paris Agreement (despite more than 343 cities, more than 900 businesses and almost 200 colleges and universities and three states pledging to uphold it anyway), the GBR is seriously threatened. And climate change will have much more direct impacts on our lives than anything that happens to the GBR: coastal cities around the world are more likely to be submerged under rising sea levels… directly impacting more than 40% of the world’s population (40% of the world’s population lives within 100km of the coast as of 2010, and that number has only increased).
Thirdly, we have got to stop believing that actions do not have consequences. I don’t understand how the same people who:
appreciate mankind’s ability to level mountains and blast through them,
clear entire landscapes for development,
know what an oil rig looks like and/or enjoy the use of electricity,
marvel at engineering achievements such as dams and bridges and highways and industrial agriculture, as well as countless other examples of anthropogenic forces on our globe,
fly in airplanes and look down on enormous cities–especially at night–and see how significant they are on the landscape,
or understand how rapidly our country has been developed compared to others, and how significantly different our lives have become in the digital age
are the same people who deny that all these actions could possibly have negative impacts somewhere outside the financial statement. Climate change might not have the same, immediate effect on an individual as touching a hot stove, but its larger systemic symptoms are overwhelmingly supported by scientists, and our impact on the globe is worth considering simply due to its rapid (and rapid increase in) pace in the last few centuries alone. We are transforming our planet, and we at once seem to believe that our impact is possible and also not provable. I’m baffled.
How will I respond? On one level, by redefining what Christians call “filling and subduing the earth,” and on another level, by “keeping” the Paris Agreement in my own ways. Here are some springboards for action from various aspects of life:
Plastic Free July: In case you missed it, plastic is incredibly hazardous to aquatic ecosystems and there’s actually a trash gyre the size of Texas floating in the Pacific as we speak. Plastic bioaccumulates up the food chain, causing carcasses to be found with stomachs clogged with trash. Plastic Free July is an initiative started in Western Australia, and its goal is to highlight just how much single-use plastic we consume and see how much we can reduce it. The objective? Don’t use any single-use plastic for all of July (or forever, if you get attached to saving the planet). Cut out plastic straws, utensils and flatware, plastic water bottles, shopping bags and cling wrap, and you’ll find that you use a lot more plastic than you thought you did. It’s difficult sometimes, and I’m not great at it, but I’m enjoying the learning experience.
Packaging can throw some kinks in plastic-free shopping for groceries or household products, but the benefit of initiatives like these is they expose how prevalent plastic is in our lives, and the more mindfully we consume, the better. Plus, there’s always recycling. Plastic Free July–and all environmentalism, for that matter–is about participating as able. There’s a really cool list of ways to live plastic free, which you can find here.
One of the cool ways I’m ditching plastic wrap and plastic bags is by using Bee’s Wrap, a plastic free way to package bread, veggies, snacks and food products for storage or transport. I just purchased some and I love it already! I’m also participating in Plastic Free July by bringing cloth bags to the grocery store (especially when buying veggies!) and carrying a reusable water bottle with me instead of purchasing bottled water or sodas in plastic containers. This goes for coffee, too–I can bring my own thermos, or I can do without. Regardless, I can do without plastic straws! I carry my own, reusable utensils around, too–something I started doing during my senior year of college. It feels good to imagine how many times I’ve been able to opt out of plastic since I started!
Meat… Less: I love meat, but I don’t eat it every day, and I much prefer to know exactly where it came from. Industrial agriculture has developed a system that relies heavily on corn-fed cattle pumped with antibiotics–an unnatural and water-intensive, highly polluting process that also emit about two billion metric tons of CO2-equivalents per year–more than the entire transportation sector. The less meat we eat, the better off the environment… If you don’t believe me, this list from The Natural Resources Defense Council of the most environmentally destructive foods starts and ends with meat-based products, and to the credit of my vegan friends, contains only one non-animal product. While my personal life choices might not offset the entire American culture of meat at every meal, cultural shifts happen in increments, and I’ll be one of them.
Check out this startling infographic below from CulinarySchools.org, then keep scrolling for more ways I’m combatting climate change in my everyday life.
Boxed wine: I can hear some of my friends groaning across the internet, but as a person who loves to drink a glass of wine at dinner when I get home from work, it is much more environmentally friendly and economically feasible to drink boxed wine… and I think it’s great. Unfortunately, the wine does live in a plastic bag, but cardboard and plastic are way easier to recycle than glass around here, so I’d say it’s a step in the right direction. And with some boxed wines, there is no bag–it’s like buying a carton of milk, or a juice box… An adult juice box. I’ll drink to that.
Coffee: This deserves its own category because I’m a writer and I can’t write without coffee–and whether I’m buying it in a plastic/paper cup at a shop or using a Keurig at home, I’m creating a lot of waste. So when I graduated college I transitioned to making coffee in a French press every morning, eliminating any paper or plastic waste, and using a thermos to keep my coffee hot all day, so I never need to buy an afternoon pick-me-up that comes in a plastic cup or bottle. If I do run out of coffee, I show up to the barista’s counter with my own container. Some places even offer a discount for bringing your own mug–the intern on an intern’s salary loves that!
Cosmetics and feminine products:Uh oh… she just went there. Yup, I did. But ladies, there’s a LOT of plastic floating around in our bathroom cabinets, and there are alternatives for everything we currently own, including makeup and cosmetics. Make sure your habits aren’t preventing you from exploring new options, like applicator-less tampons, period panties or diva cups. I’ve also learned to be aware that cosmetics, shampoos and exfoliating scrubs might contain microbeads: tiny pieces of plastic that accumulate in waterways and can bioaccumulate in the seafood we eat later (!!).
Microbeads are almost impossible to clean up, but many cosmetic companies use them in their products because they’re cheap. Skip the microbeads by checking labels for words like Polyethylene (PE), Polypropylene (PP), Polyethylene terephthalate (PET), Polymethyl methacrylate (PMMA) or Nylon… or by using the Beat the Microbead app to scan labels and know what you’re up against.
Clothing: Thrift shopping is one of the most environmentally friendly ways to buy clothes, as the clothing industry is notoriously heavy on both natural resource usage and worker exploitation (think sweatshops, which are still totally a thing). Turns out the majority of our clothes are created in developing countries and transported across the globe before reaching retailers–an environmentally negative system in and of itself–but the processes are also less regulated for environmental hazards or workforce welfare. Like most systems in an industrialized world, it’s a non-knowledge system that the consumer isn’t supposed to pay attention to. But buying or donating used clothing and extending its life by even a few months saves precious natural resources, among other environmental benefits. Check out five reasons to thrift shop more often here.
When I do buy clothes new, I try to know as much about the company as possible. Try looking at RankaBrand.org and see where your favorite clothing lines stand on sustainability, including climate change and carbon emissions, environmental policy, working conditions and fair trade. This website can be useful for almost any brand, from technology to food, but I find it particularly helpful when I’m shopping. If a brand isn’t on the site, you can suggest it, and you can “nudge” companies to better their scores with an easy-to-use pre-formatted email. Capitalism at its finest! 😉
Some companies are even learning how to recycle clothes, such as H&M’s clothing recycling program. If they bring in clothing to be recycled, customers can receive a discount on their purchase. Not only is this a good deal for a young person on a budget like me, but it could spread throughout the entire clothing industry over time, and that’s something I want to support. Any clothes that I don’t want at the end of each season and that wouldn’t sell at thrift shops, I’ll be bringing with me when I go shopping for more work attire. While H&M doesn’t have the best rating on RankaBrand, it’s definitely made improvements in recent years and it’s certainly important to me that these kinds of programs become the norm!
Travel: This one is tough for me. I live close to work and my horse, but living in a semi-rural area means there’s no public transportation system I can use, and I end up driving hours at a time when I deliver promotional materials for work. On the bright side, I still drive a minivan instead of a truck, so my MPG is pretty decent and I’m able to carpool with friends whenever possible–and usually I can fit everybody. But it’s something that I’m learning to be more conscious of as I settle into routines and explore my new home.
Equestrian activities and products: I did an entire capstone on environmental horsekeeping, and I still find it difficult to make a dent in my habits as a horsewoman. Almost every product I buy for my horse comes in a plastic bottle, box, or bag, and some are even dangerous to aquatic life. Recycling is key, but there are other things I can do, too: I can limit how much water I use by only hosing down my horse when necessary, or using a sponge and bucket instead of a hose; I can sell or donate used equipment instead of trashing them; I can “carpool” when trailering my horse or choose destinations nearby to limit vehicle emissions; I incorporate barn visits with other errands so that I limit my own traveling time; and I purchase environmentally conscious products whenever possible. Equine science is a little behind some other fields, and environmentally focused equine science is even farther behind, so I’m excited to see what products develop in the next few years. In the meantime, the practice of horsekeeping is mostly about mindfulness and intentionality with recycling.
Another challenge in the area of horsekeeping is the fact that I do not manage my own facility and have limited influence of larger-scale practices impacting the landscape, such as manure management, pasture rotation and pest management. In that way, I am somewhat limited. But again, it’s enough to do the best I can with what I’ve got.
Recreation: Supporting National Parks is a great way to promote environmentalism, and luckily I’m surrounded by state parks, national parks and outdoor attractions. Plus, hiking does great things for the mind. It’s not just about working out, fighting boredom, or getting a sweet pic for the Insta!
That’s all I’ve got in me for this season of my life… or at least until you all give me more ideas! Please please please leave thoughts below if I’ve missed anything you know about. Don’t worry, fam… I’ll post that cutesy, postgrad life blog post another day.
This January I spent three weeks hiking, camping, and hostelling through iconic California landscapes, and I am forever grateful for the experience. I’m blown away by how much there is to share and remember–and how much there is that I can’t put into words, but here’s the “short” list:
I learned to pitch a tent and cook dinner on a camp stove/fire in the dark, hiked through waist-deep snow with avalanches falling nearby, fell in love with Pinnacles National Park and its incredibly diverse ecosystems, drove “the one” along the Pacific coast until a landslide forced us to turn back, walked among massive elephant seals at Año Nuevo State Park, camped next to strawberry fields at Sunset Beach, went tidepooling with marine biologists at Carmel Point and later by ourselves at Point Reyes, panned for gold and gemstones and visited Sutter’s Mill site, where gold was first discovered.
I hiked with elk on the coast near Point Reyes, walked among redwoods in Big Sur and giant, two-thousand year-old sequoias in Calaveras Big Trees State Park, toured Cline Cellars and enjoyed a wine tasting after petting their donkeys and learning about their sustainable farming practices, visited a petrified forest, squeezed through Yosemite’s spider cave in total darkness with no visibility and only the person in front of me to guide me, spent an afternoon on the beach at Point Reyes enjoying the sunset and campfire conversation, and greatly expanded my taste in music thanks to our lonnnnnnnnnnnnnng hours in the vans and our collaborative playlist.
But the true highlight of the month was the wonderful humans who put up with my stench, made sure that I had nut-free food to eat and managed to avoid sending me into anaphylactic shock, loved me well when I got sad news from home, made me laugh with impersonations and rap battles, and were sources of endless deep and encouraging conversations about everything. I signed up for this trip entirely independently of my friends, and really, I didn’t know anyone well going into it. These four gals and nine dudes are family now, and while I never would’ve picked us out, I’m so thankful for them. We’re a diverse bunch, but we all share a passion for adventure, the outdoors, and the environment–and that bridges all other differences. If you’re reading this, team, I love ya. So much. Thanks for being you. Let’s go camping soon.
This month was full of the unexpected, but it was also full of rest and reflection. We rarely had service, and I was free to experience every day in the moment without the pressure of work, school or the ever-intimidating job search. Even the little things, like not wearing makeup for an entire month and not feeling any pressure to shave, was so freeing. I signed up for this class in order to fill some missing holes in my outdoor and environmental education, but also because it’s something I know my late classmate, MacGregor, would have loved. I wanted to honor her somehow, and this adventure seemed appropriate. It was–beyond my imagination. As we left Yosemite, I wrote this in my journal:
I feel that a bear has been watching us as we walk. And maybe it has… maybe MacGregor is with us. We’ve shared so many trails before–it feels wrong that she is not among the small cohort of women amidst the mostly male class. She should be here… she would be here, were she still alive. I’m convinced of it. So maybe she is here. Maybe she was the condor we knew was above our heads but could not see; maybe she was the bear hunkered warm in its winter place while we stomped and stumbled through waist-deep snow, pelting each other with snowballs and overflowing with laughter. Maybe she was in the wind, or among the redwoods in Big Sur where we found banana slugs on the slopes and hoped to spy the largest. Her adventurous spirit certainly was. Either way, I feel that something in me has been restored, though I can’t yet identify what. Maybe I should just keep walking.
That’s what last year was for me: a long and unexpected walk among avalanches that seemed to barely miss me; bruises from falling through crusted drifts and dragging myself back to the compacted trail; gratitude for the trailblazers ahead of me and the satisfying crunch of snow beneath my feet; an exhausted body that protests my every effort to continue on the trail; crisp air that at once thrills and drains me as I struggle to drink it in; despair as I turn a corner to find yet another steep slope with no resting place in sight; the sudden, unexpected weight of snow dumped by a tired tree on my head, and the slow thawing process afterwards; and wonder–absolute wonder at the joy that comes from trusting your guide and briefly, finally understanding the purpose of the hike we’ve endured. And we have endured. We were made to walk this earth, to enjoy the view, to face plant in the snow, and to keep walking, however harrowing the climb.
Jesus taught me so much about trust this January, and an old promise that once felt limiting is now so sweet to me: “The LORD will fight for you while you keep silent” (Exodus 14:14). There’s a lot in this world that I feel called to fight, and it’s easy for me to feel overwhelmed by the sheer scope of these battles. I feel so small–the kind of small that we feel when submerged in the natural world, such as in the high peaks at Pinnacles or on cliff-lined coasts of Point Reyes, with waves crashing in a continuous thunder at their base.
But there is such freedom in this smallness, too: I can faithfully, joyfully do what I am called to do, and no more. The Lord will fight for me even when I am silent, and he will certainly work through my work, too. I just have to trust that my seemingly fruitless efforts are not in vain–that there’s so much going on around me that I cannot see, but will understand one day, some day.
So now what?
I hope I never forget the lessons and memories I gained this past year. I hope 2017 far exceeds my expectations–though January set the bar pretty high! I’ve got one more semester at Wofford before I’m on my own–with my horse in tow–but otherwise, the real world is coming up quickly. Before I graduate, I’ll have a novella published (through Wofford) and hopefully some creative nonfiction as well. We’ll see. I know this semester’s going to be a hike of its own kind.
With the EPA and National Parks Service (and basically all scientists) under attack, I’m convinced that environmentalism is as important as ever before, though I’m not sure what I’ll be doing a year from now. But that’s okay. I’ve got a whole three months to figure out where I’m going next… I just have to keep walking. No matter where I go, I know the view will be great.
Writer, horse lover, Jesus-loving environmentalist for hire!
For my senior capstone as an environmental studies major at Wofford, I’m studying ecological horsekeeping. I’m interested in discovering what equestrian management trends are specific to the Tryon/Landrum/Campobello/Columbus area. If you own or manage a barn in the area or commute to the Tryon International Equestrian Center regularly for shows, I’d love to have your feedback! The survey takes about 10-15 minutes to complete.
Know anybody else that should take the survey? Please share it with them! If you’re interested in my work and would like more information, please contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I’d love to talk to you!
For the past five weeks I’ve been living in Columbus, NC, hosting two teens from Boston as they competed in horse shows at the Tryon International Equestrian Center (TIEC). It’s been a blast introducing them to Bojangles, queso, Krispy Kreme, Cookout, boiled peanuts, grits, and other wonderful foods like sourdough bread… and they’ve introduced me to all kinds of foods, too.
This is not an area with which I am unfamiliar: I attend Wofford College just thirty minutes away and I have kept my horse in Campobello/Landrum for two years now. I ride at Clear View Farm in Landrum with the Wofford equestrian team, and I have loved attending Saturday Night Lights grand prix events at TIEC since its opening. I love the area.
Every day I drive between three counties and two states: Polk (NC), Spartanburg (SC), and Greenville (SC). Whether the drive is half a mile or twenty minutes, I almost always pass a truck piled high with logs. It seems that cutting down trees is a daily occurrence in the foothills. I’d be willing to bet that TIEC has a great deal to do with the rapid development of the area as farmland. I have to swerve to avoid a wide truckload of timber 9 out of 10 times I leave the house. This makes me sad–the clay-filled patches of cleared land will take years to become beautiful again, wooded or not. The topsoil lost will never really replenish, or at least not in my lifetime.
At the same time, I love the farmland. I love seeing horses, cattle, bison, donkeys and other animals grazing on rolling hills of lush grass. I love the hay fields and the rows of corn. But I love the trees, too. There’s got to be a balance. How does one keep a farm in a way that doesn’t destroy the area’s natural beauty?
The capstone I’m working on this summer involves studying trends in horsekeeping and land management in the area, especially since TIEC’s opening in the summer of 2014. I’m hoping to see how the development of TIEC as a major hub for equestrians has impacted the land around it.
My summer job is easy proof: I’m living on a ten acre horse farm, freshly carved from a wooded lot. The pastures have taken months to establish–runoff was a major hurdle in both construction and landscaping. The family is based in Boston, and will be until they permanently move here in about nine years. They built their retirement farm ten years in advance, sending their thirteen year-old daughter, her friend, and two horses here for the summer in order to compete at TIEC. Obviously, this area revolves around horses and is beginning to revolve around the equestrian center.
I’ve met many people from the area through our equestrian connection: waitresses that comment on our riding breeches, feed store and tack store employees that love to swap stories, or families in the grocery store whose giant bag of carrots we notice and ask, “Do you have horses?” The answer is almost always yes. We’ve met many area people by asking to pet their dogs as they walk around TIEC.
Everyone has a different opinion about how TIEC is impacting the area.
“It has done almost nothing for the community,” a woman says as we stand outside a Landrum restaurant. “It is so self-contained. Everything is right there–the food, the housing. You can’t even bring your own shavings, you have to use theirs. It doesn’t help the community tack stores, restaurants, nothing.”
I point out that TIEC has most certainly added a great deal of jobs to the area and has most certainly added business to area real estate–two of TIEC’s most significant contributions to the area. In my head, I also consider that if all TIEC competitors were required to find shavings and hay on their own in the area, there would be a severe shortage of both, and prices would be exponentially driven up for locals. But I don’t say that aloud… the economic implications of an establishment this large are expansive and complex, beyond my own understanding. The woman didn’t know that TIEC had done so much for real estate and jobs–“That’s good to know,” she says.
She’s also not wrong, though. The center has been understaffed and incredibly busy this summer, and I’ve heard complaints of slow running shows, un-emptied trashcans and bathroom facilities without toilet paper. When the US Pony Club East Championships were held at TIEC this summer, at one point TIEC ran out of food and water, according to one of the coaches we met. I believe that TIEC has grown so fast that they have outgrown their own staff–they are not quite as organized as they need to be. I also believe, though, that they will get there.
TIEC is a fabulous facility and is a wonderful place to compete. The center is intentionally available and free for the community to come explore–even people who know nothing about horses are welcome at TIEC, and I admire that. The restaurants are super tasty, and though they may be slow at times, the food is worth it. One local trainer told me that TIEC has really improved the quality of eating out in Tryon, diversifying the options and increasing the overall quality of restaurants in the area. Restaurants in Landrum, Tryon and Campobello have seen some increased business, too. Not everybody wants sushi or diner food, however good, every single day for two weeks.
Other horse-related businesses have benefitted from the center, as well. After a particular weekend of showing in extra hot weather, one of the horses was not feeling great. He was anemic, and we needed to buy a certain supplement to help him feel better. I went to three different feed stores in order to get enough. “We had some gallon buckets yesterday, but someone from [TIEC] came and cleared us out yesterday,” said one woman at the register as I plunked the last three small bottles on the counter. When TIEC’s two tack stores do not fill the need–and they focus mostly on equipment and apparel–competitors will shop at local businesses.
So how do my observations fit in to my project? Well, the short answer is that they are my project. I’ve been working all summer on a survey to give to boarding operation owners in order to gather more information about how horse management in the area has been impacted by TIEC and the area’s environmental factors. I’m SO close to distributing this survey and I can’t wait to see what feedback I receive!*
In addition to surveys, I will be conducting interviews and site visits with several managers in order to continue what I’ve been doing all summer: engaging people in conversation about horsekeeping in the Tryon/Landrum/Campobello area. I want to know what narratives about land management, horsekeeping and TIEC are present here, and how I can blend these narratives together to paint a more complete picture for Tryon horsekeepers to use and learn from as they see fit.
I cannot wait to enjoy the remaining weeks I will spend here at Ladybug Farm, I cannot wait to continue my project work into the fall, and I cannot wait to watch TIEC grow and thrive in this already horse-obsessed community. After all, I’m practically a local, now.
*If you are the owner or manager of an equestrian boarding operation within an hour’s drive of the Tryon International Equestrian Center and would like to help me with this project by taking my survey, please contact me by commenting below! Thanks so much.
I’ve done a lot of writing in the past four months – about 63,000 words, to be exact. It’s been a whirlwind! This semester was filled with many newspaper articles, a handful of personal essays and an as-of-yet unfinished novella. Don’t ask… I’m not ready to share yet! I will say, though, that I’ve learned a lot about myself during the creative writing process, and despite its messiness, I so appreciate what this semester has taught me. The Old Gold and Black garnered a record twelve awards from the South Carolina Press Association, including 1st place general excellence in our division! Personally, I was awarded the 1st place individual use of social media and 4th place feature story… I am so thankful and so proud to be a part of this newspaper and I can’t wait to spend one more year on staff. This spring, when I wasn’t writing, I was riding or teaching riding! Here’s the short version:
Dancer turned 10! We’ve been making what I’m calling mini-milestone victories in various areas of our relationship, from crossing water to accepting ropes around her head. I don’t get to ride her much, but each time I interact with her I’m reminded that I have to take the time it takes… the results are so rewarding! Going into the summer, I’m so excited to see what we can accomplish together, but I’m also just going to enjoy being with her… because that’s what I love the most.
One of my most versatile HALTER horses passed away, and for the first time in my career I had to tell my students that their equine partner wasn’t coming back. It was hard, it created all kinds of logistical problems and left me bitter that an incredibly healthy horse died so suddenly and left me struggling to fill the holes. It’s been challenging to navigate the rest of the session without him, and I sometimes forget that Beau isn’t available for Thursday afternoon classes when I need a horse that can do everything. I guess I’m learning to avoid making assumptions about the tools I’ll have at my disposal on any given day. But I still miss Beau.
The Wofford Equestrian team finished our second season, but we are still busy preparing for the fall! The Wofford administration has been so supportive of us this year and we are working closely with them to grow the team. If you don’t follow us on Twitter yet, you should! We are always reporting from shows and sharing pictures of our adventures. I’ll be working all summer to be ready for the novice over fences division!
I’ll be living, working, studying and riding in Tryon this summer – I’m so excited! I’ll be studying sustainable horse-keeping in one of the nation’s fastest-growing equestrian hubs… I can’t wait to share what I learn. More than learning, though, I’m hoping to live restfully – that’s the biggest and hardest lesson I learned this semester. I can’t do everything. So here goes… something.
It’s so soggy in Spartanburg that a tree fell on campus last night – in a place known for its trees, this is a sad event. Roots can’t hold on to the earth if there is no earth to hold on to, and with soup for an anchor, just one puff of wind can flick the massive oaks past their point of balance and WHACK! Out come the chainsaws and other machines to clear the road. Just a sigh of relief that no buildings were damaged, and then no thought given to the hundreds of trees still left, tottering in the mud.
It’s been this wet all week – raining for longer. I’ve gotten so used to the constant mist and drizzle that I don’t pull my raincoat out of my backpack unless raindrops are running down my forehead into my eyes. Otherwise, I walk through the cloud-like moisture to class, ignoring it. My hair has become its own creature, and I do my best to compromise with the beast.
Hurricane Joaquin may be spinning away from our coast, but he’s spitting some record-breaking storm fronts right back at the South, almost as if to spite us for depriving him of a landfall. Wednesday was beautiful. I got a glove tan line from my hour-long riding lesson – it was hot and sunny for the first time in more than two weeks, not to mention dry enough to work in the arena without worrying about the horses slipping in the soupy footing. It was a beautiful mid-week blessing.
But Thursday, Wofford woke up to the news that businesses bordering our campus (at our feet, almost, buried in the hillside) had been flooded. The roads at the bottom of the hill were covered in mud, and the car salesmen spent all day power-washing their lots and wiping down their cars, which looked more like an army fleet than a colorful inventory of used vehicles. Everything was red clay-tinted, even where the water had receded. It kept drizzling most of Thursday, but nicely, as if the skies were apologizing for the damage they’d inflicted.
A person had died in the Thursday floods, I would learn. Trapped in a vehicle that got swept under a bridge. Multiple bridges were closed underneath, from silting or rapid water currents or maybe even instability – who knows? Somewhere else in the area, a bridge collapsed into the muddy waters below, looking a lot like a sinkhole although none of the reporters called it that explicitly, at least not that I heard. Wofford students were advised to remain on campus – our property is one of the highest points in Spartanburg, which both protects us and makes escape difficult.
I was supposed to go to a clinic in Pendleton today. After the heavy rains Friday night into Saturday morning, there was no safe way for me to get to where I needed to go. Too many dips in the road where I knew the road would be flooded, if not susceptible to collapse. I stayed in bed and pouted.
On Thursday, the dry-cleaning and laundry business that had been filled to the brim with muddy runoff was hosed down – much of that mud and water ended up in the streets, as if it needed any more. On campus, I was shocked to find that the grounds crew (or at least their supervisor) seemed to think it a good idea to power wash the cement outside my dorm – to clean the stone and the bricks that would in a few hours be rained on once again. They used more than a dozen bottles of bleach on maybe thirty yards of sidewalk, for lack of a better term. The bleach-bubbled water ran through the grass and down the walkway to the curb, flowing down into the system that already had too much water in it. Maybe some of the bleach ended up at the laundromat after last night’s rain… it more than likely ended up in Lawson’s Fork Creek or some other system, already overwhelmed.
All day, it smelled like bleach… Bleach, fertilizer, and rain. Why the fertilizer seemed a good idea, I don’t know. A guy on a tractor drove through the play-dough ground, leaving behind muddy tire tracks, shredded grass, and millions of little white pieces of chemicals that often missed the lawn and landed on the sidewalk – or in the puddles in the road. How much of that fertilizer stayed where it was spewed?
I don’t understand. I know there’s some sort of logic behind these decisions, but I can’t find it.
On Friday morning, I noticed six cigarette butts scattered on the covered walkway where the cement had just been bleached. The stone on the walkway, the cement on the sidewalk and the bricks in the courtyard all had a milky white film on them.
One butt lay swollen in the watery crack between two bricks – how far did its owner have to throw the cigarette to deposit it here? This one is a long way away from the covering, where smoke breaks take place right in front of the door so that I have to hold my breath on my way to class. I do so unapologetically – I’m an asthmatic, and smoke is one of my triggers.
Walking to class on Thursday and Friday, it smelled like chemicals more than anything. I inhaled diesel as I walked by workers with leafblowers – quite ineffective when the leaves are stuck to their spots – and I inhaled bleach fumes every time I left or returned to my dorm. I could also smell the fertilizer, even with a severe cold. How alarming.
Wofford gave tours all day Friday. Mentally, as each group passed by my study spot, I apologized for the smell. It’s not always like this. Not always.
As I write this, we have a pool in our courtyard, due to an ineffective drain. I wonder how long it will take for maintenance to bring out the bleach… how many hours after the floodwaters recede will they bring out the blowers? Mow the mud?
As a resident of this gorgeous campus, as a student, as an environmental studies major, as a human – I beg us to slow down. Look up, and watch for falling trees, lest we be in the trajectory as we power wash a sidewalk, adding more broth to the soup.
P.S.: I realize that the list of tasks to be completed by the grounds crew is overwhelmingly long and that there are many unseen factors that go into each decision. I am not trying to accuse anybody of being incompetent. I simply want to share a perspective. We have to be intentional with our maintenance: not despite our high and dry location, but precisely because of it.