Items

• 
  2020-08-20

  Coming Back Home

  When lockdown happened in March of 2020, I was in college in New York. I was immediatly picked up by my uncle and taken to their home in Long Island were I stayed basically stuck in an 8x8 room with a large bed and a dresser as a desk for the next 4 months. When flight restrictions were finally slightly lifted I took the first flight out to my home, Puerto Rico. Everyone had to wear masks, disinfecting stations at every corner, and it was very empty. When I got to PR, the baggage claim turned into a medical security depot with people in hazmat suits everywhere, plastic curtains draping every hallway, and incredibly tight restrictions on movememt. It was a miracle I got back. When I was home, I was finally able to walk outside in my neighborhood and decided to explore the river by my house that I had never really been to, even though I had lived there for 18 years. That's what this video represents. It represents the first real moment of freedom and nature after months of isolation and flourescent lights. That video also represents refuge, I was seperated from my homeland for over half a year at that point, 2 months by choice and 4 months by force. And though I was out in the jungle by myself, it was a much healthier form of isolation than what I had been doing in New York. So I appreciated my flowing river and low hanging tree branches all the more.
• 2020-08-04

  Lonely at the Lake

  My family has owned a small cabin by a lake in Northern Minnesota for over 60 years. This is my favorite place in the world and was our family vacation destination every year. As years went on my dad and I are one of the few who continue this tradition. After quarantining in April and May and businesses slowly reopening in June we decided in August 2020 that it would be safe enough to go up there. However, this trip ended up being much different than usual. While Minnesota was under a mask mandate the area we were in was much different than the suburbs of Chicago. At home more often than not people did adhere to the mask mandate and there was a mandate to self-quarantine when returning to the state after traveling. The area where are cabin is located is very densely wooded and not exactly populated. The small town has about four hundred people and the nearest large grocery store is a forty-five-minute drive away. While grocery shopping in town it was clear the mask mandate was not as strictly followed up here. Only about half of the customers in the store were wearing masks. The likelihood of adhering to the mandate dropped even further once we reached our township. Even though there were signs posted to “wear your mask” my dad and I were considered the odd ones out at the bait shop or lumber store, as I did not see a single person with a mask on in the ten days we were up there. All of our neighbors who live on the road that hugs the bay are all older. I have known most of them my entire life and some have even watched my parents grow up. Many of them live downstate near the Twin Cities, and some even live out of state, but very few of them live up there full time due to the harsh weather and isolation. It wasn’t until the last few years that the country started to plow our road in the winter. This ten-day vacation is normally packed with multiple dinners at neighbors' houses, tubing and fishing, parties and yard games, and finally ending the night around a fire with our neighbors, their kids, and often their grandkids. This trip, there was none of that. Windows and doors were boarded up because out-of-state neighbors never made the trip up to open their cabins. Jetskis and other water toys were locked up because most older neighbors did not risk leaving quarantine. As far as we could tell it was just my dad and myself. Fishing was just the two of us, the only people we had to argue with over card games were each other, and we both fell asleep more than once on the boat or dock while reading books because it was so quiet. It might have been much more lonely and quiet than normal, but it was still relaxing to be surrounded by nature and absorb its sounds uninterrupted. COVID-19 changed my vacation, but not necessarily in a bad way. I am lucky to have a lake house that was isolated enough that COVID did not seem to touch it. Although we missed our neighbors and have since seen everyone the loneliness allowed for a sense of stillness, the ability to fully emerse myself in nature and relax.
• 
  2021-09-16

  Life is Better Where It's Wetter

  Travel had always been in my blood. I can even remember the first time I was legally allowed to board a plane on my own without having to wear a silly "Unaccompanied Minor" badge around my neck. The idea of getting on an airplane and landing in a completely new place only hours later would always thrill me. Unfortunately, when the pandemic hit, travel started to look a little different. The freedom I once felt when I stepped foot on a 737 began to feel more like an anxiety-filled hassle. Normally, I would have been found jet-setting across the U.S. to the big cities on the east and west coasts where the parties lasted all night long, but that was no longer possible. I started to remembered how I had always wanted to visit Lake Tahoe. I'd always seen the outdoorsy girls on my Instagram feed post pictures of the clear, blue water. Maybe this was my chance to take a break from the major hubs and slow down my pace. One thing remained, though. I still didn't want to face those airports. That's when I made one of the biggest decisions of my young life. I packed up my Jeep and started out on what would become 3 weeks across our American highways - just me, a Jeep Wrangler, and the open road. I never could have expected what I would discover while driving. I truly gained a new appreciation for the world around me and realized I much preferred travel by wheel than by wing. Here I thought the freedom I felt when traveling was at risk of becoming obsolete, when in reality it was the opposite. Any time there was a unique store along the road or a picturesque landscape, I simply stopped. I never could have done that in an airplane! When I finally made it to the beach at California's gorgeous Lake Tahoe, I was speechless. It was everything I could have imagined and more. The views, the smells, the sounds - breathtaking. It was in those moments, I got my freedom back in the middle of a pandemic.
• 2020-05-01

  Background Noise

  From 2005 to 2020, I was a police officer. My life was hectic and noisy. I carried two mandatory work cell phones everywhere I went, 24 hours a day, which rang, beeped, and chirped continuously. A police radio was on in my house, in my car, or in my ear, every hour of the day. In my world, people were always talking, at work and at home. I resigned from my position in April of 2020, just as the COVID lockdowns were coming into effect. I suddenly found myself with nowhere to be due to no longer having a job and having minimal to no contact with others due to the lockdown. Being an avid flyfisher, my days became about spending most of my time on the river alone. This was also not normal, as I am also a flyfishing guide, and am used to fishing with other people, who are usually talking to me, but due to COVID, I no longer had clients. The constant of my life went from hearing people talking (and yelling) and devises making noise, to the sound of the rushing water of the river. I soon found improvements appearing in my life. I began feeling better, sleeping better, eating better, was able to focus more, and had a much more positive attitude. All of which were side effects of being on the river everyday by myself. The COVID pandemic was an opportunity for people to re-connect with nature unknowingly, as outdoor activities were their only choice of recreation outside of their homes. Due to outdoor activity being the only option for recreation, people learned, or remembered in some cases, the value which nature can add to life, as well as how simple it is to take nature for granted. The pandemic forced people back into nature, which re-awakened (or maybe awakened for the first time) the special relationship between the human senses and nature.
• 
  2022-05-26

  Relocation in Isolation, Reconnection in Solitude

  When Covid first kicked off, I was in the final months of my undergraduate degree, weeks away from obtaining my B.A. in history from CSU Stanislaus in December 2020. I had made plans to travel and work in Japan, teaching English, doing cultural work, and generally immersing myself into the culture I found so fascinating in my studies. However, the world's shutdown would put an end (or a pause) to this plan. Now working remotely from home, I stayed in my room working on my senior thesis, looking out the window to the often empty street. My family had decided to move, as we had decided years before but loose ends such as my degree were the final threads to be cut. Remote work had given us an unexpected leap in our time-frame, and so in the midst of the Paradise fires, to which I vividly remember the dark orange skies blotting out the sun and the ever present ashy, smoky stench on the air, carried by the warm breeze from the north, we began the process of transitioning our lives to be on the road, and to be resettled in northern Idaho. For the next year and a half or so we settled in to our new home, however the world was still largely in lock-down, and so I spent most of my time inside or in the basement where I had set up a study space to finish my senior thesis and to earn my degree through my last online semester. It was a self reflective and solitary time, in which I would often take many breaks to venture out my backdoor, which quite literally lead into the forest. Not fifty feet from my home, we have a circle of trees where we would eventually put a fire pit and often sit around together around the warmth on cold nights, talking and sharing fun with one another. When alone however, it serves as an incredible spot to simply sit back and become immersed into our natural world, an amenity I often take advantage of to this day while working on my M.A. through ASU's online program. This audio recording is a sample of that, and in it, you can hear the spring time birds chirping away, the low rumble of the highway just over the mountain, feel the breeze through the trees and the valleys from the lake, and imagine the smell of pine and flowers on the forest floor.
• 
  2022-05-08

  Depression and Nature

  The Covid-19 pandemic has been a low point in my life. The incredible isolation felt by so many has certainly not been lost on me. Indeed, I like so many had to place my life and plans on pause. From a lost Study Abroad trip to Ireland to putting off graduate school, covid-19 has fundamentally reshaped my life in a very negative way. Like so many people, I became deeply depressed and anxious about this new world when the old world had begun to look up for me, personally. One of the ways I learned to cope was nature. Living in Arkansas, or the "Natural State" I am surrounded by immense beauty. Fresh air, rolling hills, an abundance of green and vibrantly colored flowers allowed me to find and reflect on the natural world around me. In a way, nature has a way of providing consistency and stability in an every changing world. Spring is a time of tremendous rebirth, and I have included a picture of some flowers that have just bloomed. Indeed, this representation of rebirth demonstrates an optimism that the world will move beyond Covid-19 in a hopefully positive direction.
• 2020-07-13

  Running to Have a Feeling of Escaping Pandemic

  With no long commute time to and from school, running became something I did often. I would go to the park and look at the lake after my run to see the sunset. I got to appreciate being outside more and getting fresh air. To feel the breeze by my sides as I ran. was relieving.
• 2020-03-21

  Gardening During the Apocalypse

  I can't think of the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, the shut downs and lock-ins, the stay-at-home orders without thinking of my brief foray into gardening. My husband and I bought our house in northwest Baltimore in April 2019. Our little duplex sits near the end of an unbelievably picturesque street in a fairly affluent neighborhood known for its garden communities and HOA-hosted wine and cheese parties you have to pay to attend. The neighborhood is surrounded by much poorer neighborhoods and heavily-trafficked streets, the direct product of red-lining in Old Baltimore. While the Original Northwood neighborhood is much more diverse - demographically and economically - than it was when it was first established in the 1930s and 1940s, my husband and I, as some of the only residents under 40, still felt like we didn't necessarily fit in with our older, more well-to-do neighbors, despite absolutely adoring our little home, which had been lovingly renovated and reimagined by its previous tenants. Come March 2020, however, the noise from the crowded streets, the surrounding neighborhoods, and from our own neighborhood, died down substantially. Our streets and its surrounds have always been a great place to go for a walk, but now every day people were strolling by in ones and twos, sometimes in small family units. Everyone needed to get out of the houses they were now cooped up in, and I was no exception. Much to my mother's chagrin - and likely to my neighbors' embarrassment - I did not inherent my mother's green thumb. Because I am a millennial I found an app that identifies plants and set about rooting out weeds, pruning the flowers the previous tenants had not intended for me to neglect, picking up the endless stream of leaves from our several 100+ year old trees, digging up more weeds and debating with my husband about whether we should start an herb and vegetable garden or put in a patio in the little garden area that connects our front and back yards. I did not become proficient at gardening. I am much better than I was, however, at identifying the truly astonishing diversity of plants in my own garden and in my neighborhood by scent and even touch. I learned that the dried and withered allium stalks pull effortlessly out of the ground after they die, that African violets also give way to a gentle scooping from the earth, and that thistle, of course, will still try to prick you as it attempts to cling to the soil. I learned that those thin but tough shoots of elm and oak born from the seeds and acorns the squirrels missed not only grow rapidly, but are extraordinarily difficult to rip from the earth. And no matter how much seemingly-delicate clover one claws at, its roots will always remain beneath the surface, as virulent in a day or two as when one earlier tore at it in complete dismay of its sheer stubbornness. I did not become proficient at gardening. But I did relish the feeling of cool, damp earth underneath my hands, even in my fingernails, the crunch of dry leaves, the slick sliding of wet leaves, the red, angry weals left on my hands from those stubborn oaks. I felt accomplished as I pulled lovely, but ultimately threatening African violets and wild raspberry from underneath the spreading cover of the hostas, and as I pulled wild mint, lemon, and rosemary for tea and cooking. I told myself I'd use the ramps (a species of wild onion that smells and tastes sort of of like a combination between garlic and scallions) in a soup, as a college roommate of mine had done, but I forgot to harvest them in time. From what I recall, summertime is best, particularly late summertime. The other thing I remember about this time spent in my garden, hands in the dirt, sweat on my brow, bug bites inflaming every available inch of skin, is the new sense of connection I felt with my neighbors who stopped to wave hello, nod and smile at my gardening efforts. Neighbors who I hadn't gotten to know before the pandemic which now prevented us, due to fear of contamination from contact with other people, from truly getting to know each other still. But somehow, the simple act of being out in my garden, doing this simple, repetitive toil, made me feel like I was participating in a ritual, an activity that linked me to the less unsavory past of the community, and to neighbors who otherwise might have remained alien in a plague environment that seemed to bring a new apocalypse with every week.
• 2020-02-02

  Sounds and Scents of a Maine Island

  In February 2020, I moved to Vinalhaven, an island off the coast of Maine, for a job that promised to advance my career and provide time for personal introspection and growth. The island community was vibrant, and as a newcomer, I was invited to dinner parties, game nights, and book club meetings – I hardly had time to miss the family and friends I left behind in Colorado. Three weeks later, the COVID-19 pandemic required me to exchange my introduction to the community for long solitary hours. Handshakes and warm hugs from new acquaintances were replaced by cold winter days and a lack of human contact. The seclusion drove me to explore the island’s shoreline and conservation trails and intermingle with nature that was unimpeded by humans who had retreated behind the walls of their homes. Without the distraction of a companion, I noticed the wind rushing through trees, saltwater crashing against the rocks at the ocean’s edge, bald eagles screeching, chickadees singing, and small animals scurrying through tall natural grasses near the basin. I sat so still one morning that a curious, gray mink approached me and stared for a few seconds. One November evening, while I walked along the rocky shoreline at State Beach, an estrous scent from a whitetail doe in heat wafted from the nearby woods. While the pungent odor attracted bucks, the smell assaulted my nose and distracted me from the fresh scents of saltwater, pine, and balsam. The overpowering smell suggested that the doe was close; her presence comforted me in my isolation. I expected to integrate into my new island home through people. Instead, I became grounded in the environment, surrounded by the sounds and scents that I may have otherwise missed.
• 
  2020-02

  Sights and Sounds of a Maine Island

  In February 2020, I moved to Vinalhaven, an island off the coast of Maine, for a job that promised to advance my career and provide time for personal introspection and growth. The island community was vibrant, and as a newcomer, I was invited to dinner parties, game nights, and book club meetings – I hardly had time to miss the family and friends I left behind in Colorado. Three weeks later, the COVID-19 pandemic required me to exchange my introduction to the community for long solitary hours. Handshakes and warm hugs from new acquaintances were replaced by cold winter days and a lack of human contact. The seclusion drove me to explore the island’s shoreline and conservation trails and intermingle with nature that was unimpeded by humans who had retreated behind the walls of their homes. Without the distraction of a companion, I noticed the wind rushing through trees, saltwater crashing against the rocks at the ocean’s edge, bald eagles screeching, chickadees singing, and small animals scurrying through tall natural grasses near the basin. I sat so still one morning that a curious, gray mink approached me and stared for a few seconds. One November evening, while I walked along the rocky shoreline at State Beach, an estrous scent from a whitetail doe in heat wafted from the nearby woods. While the pungent odor attracted bucks, the smell assaulted my nose and distracted me from the fresh scents of saltwater, pine, and balsam. The overpowering smell suggested that the doe was close; her presence comforted me in my isolation. I expected to integrate into my new island home through people. Instead, I became grounded in the environment, surrounded by the sounds and scents that I may have otherwise missed.
• 
  2020-05-05

  Forgotten Nature

  During the pandemic, I've noticed a good number of people take steps to deepen their connection with nature by hiking, gardening, and even just sitting outside for a while. I took a few short trips around Arizona and found great viewing and hiking spots. This here was in Prescott, Arizona at Thumb Bute.
• 
  2021-11-24

  Walking at Bear Hole with Dad

  I took this photograph with my dad when we went for a walk one day at Bear Hole, the reservoir in my town. Since the pandemic started, my dad and I would go for walks with each other, exploring new places and talking about life. My dad had recently gotten laid off, and I had made the decision in early October to study remotely instead of on campus, so we both had some extra time on our hands. We had our set of usual places that we would go to walk, but the pandemic allowed us to venture to some new spots. Even though we knew Bear Hole was so close by, neither one of us had gone to explore it much. We would plan our walks around my class and work schedule, being sure that we made time for each other a few times a week. Although making the decision to study remotely was a difficult decision because I was a senior and would be away from my friends and professors, I got to spend time with my dad in a way that we were never able to before.
• 
  2021-08-06

  Covid Gardening Story and Okra Recipe

  I chose to focus on my garden and our chickens that we began right before the pandemic hit. I never realized how lucky I was to live in a rural environment until Spring 2020, when living in the country meant having a bit more freedom than in the city. Our garden and chickens provided us with foods that sometimes were out of stock in our small, local store. However, we also faced other things in our community that made the psychological aspects of the pandemic really hard, such as living with those who deny the reality of the disease and mitigation efforts that people like my husband promoted, as an ER physician. I suppose this story is a bit of a love letter to our little property out in the country, despite the differences in values that we have with our town.
• 
  2021-05-26

  Boucke Campsite Debris

  This is a photograph of the Boucke campsite at Camp Wolfeboro in 2021, before camp had opened to any Scouts. There is a variety of natural debris on the ground, including pine needles, pine cones, and branches. This debris had to all be cleared off of the ground before camp started because this is a campsite used by Scouts and Scouters. The week of May 26 was "Chainsaw week #2", where volunteers went to camp and helped prepare camp to be ready for Scouts to arrive. The photo was taken during the week of May 26, 2021, and was submitted to the Camp Wolfeboro Shutterfly site by Chris Chapman, who is on the properties subcommittee for the Golden Gate Area Council, which owns Camp Wolfeboro.
• 
  2021-07-19T21:53

  Program Director's Monday Night Campfire Speech

  Every week during camp at Camp Wolfeboro, the Program Director gives a speech near the end of the Monday night campfire. This is an audio recording of the last portion of the speech given by 2021's Program Director, James Mizutani. He mentions and discusses the pandemic that has taken place over the past two years in his speech. Transcription: So, it, it was a lot when I got up here, uh, to work as program director in 2021, it was kind of a shock. Um, I had to— the med lodge was new, the camp director's cabin was not habitable anymore, uh, Kneeknocker¹ was all shiny. The nature lodge, my home for a year as Eco-Con² staff, is now like [in remittal?], and you can't put people in there anymore. So a lot of things have changed, some good, some less good. The less good things are fixable, we'll get a new nature lodge, it'll be fantastic and it'll be great and it'll be better than anything Eagle's End³ will ever have (audience says "woah"). But one of the things that didn't change was my feelings about camp. I love camp. I love everybody who's up here. I love working with my staff. Now I just call them my staff, instead of me being a part of staff, I still am staff [unintelligible]. And getting to see all of you every week, I get to see Scouts every week, I get to catch up with them, I get to see what they're doing while they're not at camp, and I get to see what they're enjoying about camp, why they come back every year. And I find that it's a lot of the same reasons why I come back every year. You're out here, you're away from a lot of distractions, you're with some of your friends, you're doing stuff that you don't normally do on the day-to-day. I don't mind normal days, the last two years have been wake up, move eight feet over onto the other side of my room, and sit down at my desk. Now I wake up and have to like, jog 800 feet to the PO⁴ in order to make it to the staff meeting on time. So, it's a very different lifestyle. And, I think it's a good thing for all of us to have been reintroduced into that lifestyle, into that camping lifestyle. And so I want you all to take advantage of everything that Wolfeboro has to offer. Make the Wolfeboro lifestyle a full lifestyle, a busy lifestyle filled with program, filled with excitement, filled with singing, filled with swimming at the Waterfront and shooting at the Rifle Range and going on hikes and being out here in this beautiful valley looking at the stars. There's no light, there's no artificial light in the valley after 10:30pm. And that's something that you can rarely get anymore. Um, I want you all to take hold of all the advantages that you have here at camp and make the most of it because after two years, you have a lot of catching up to do. So, have a good week everybody and I'd like to reintroduce the 2021 Camp Wolfeboro staff (applause). Footnotes: 1: A bathroom (with showers starting in 2021) found between the Program Office and the Mess Hall 2: Short for "Ecology and Conservation". A program area on the Tuolumne side of camp that handles nature-related merit badges and activities. 3: A program area that handles civic-related merit badges and activities. Eagle's End staff and Eco-Con staff were engaged in a prank war during the summer of 2021. 4: Program Office, where the camp director and program director offices can be found.
• 
  2020-04-20

  Nature can boost your mental health during COVID-19 pandemic

  The pandemic has negatively affected many individuals' mental health. This article describes the benefits nature can provide in improving one's mental health during this time.
• 
  2020-04-09

  'It has become our sanctuary': The calming power of nature in a pandemic

  Many have turned to nature to combat the stresses and concerns of the pandemic. This collection of photographs from around the world illustrates the beauty of nature, the changes to the environment during the pandemic, and the human appreciation of the natural world.
• 
  2021-07-24

  Joseph Dopkin, Oral History 2021/07/24

  Ashley Tibollo sits down with Joseph John Dobkin to discuss how his life has been impacted by the COVID-19 pandemic. In this interview his discusses how his life at school as a University student has changed. He also discusses how the dynamics in his dorm room and life at home with his family were impacted. At the end of this interview Dobkin touches on political topics, his views on how the pandemic was handled by local and state governments. He also discusses his views on both anti-mask and BLM protests.
• 
  2021-03-09

  Birds during the pandemic

  This article tells us about wildlife, specifically birds, during the pandemic. As many other animals were, birds were a lot more active when the lockdown began. Some many see this as a good thing but this article goes into detail about the good and bad things that happened to birds during the pandemic. This article is important because it addresses a topic not many people think is important and gives more in depth into this side of nature.
• 
  2021-04-14

  Penguins in Cape Town

  This article is an article about the penguins in Cape Town. During the lockdown of the pandemic many animals were seen roaming the streets and some of them were penguins in Cape Town. This article explains what the penguins were doing and shows how the pandemic changed wildlife.
• 
  2021-03-19

  Introspective Interconnectivity and My New Dance Partner

  Went it seemed like the entire world shut down because of COVID-19, and we were ordered into lockdown, we could no longer be out and about in the world, gather – or even see our friends and families. As time passed, people began to absorb the implications the pandemic was having on their lives and our responses ranged from loss and mourning, loneliness, and restlessness to introspection, creativity, and reinvention. Meanwhile, the natural world began to tap our shoulders. The animals returned to our cities, birds had took back the skies, and all sort of hidden gems were no longer obscured by our pollution. My own relationship with nature is one of push and pull. I witness in nature, the miracle and fragility of my own fleeting life force mirrored back to me. This inspires awe and intensifies my awareness of being alive, of being a conscious individual within a larger interconnected whole yet understanding that this “whole” remains elusive. My mind battles to rationalize my observations and impressions of an intelligent force that seems equally purposeful and chaotic, innocent and cruel, physical and divine. This relationship has held me rapt and has been at the heart of why I make art. For over 20 years, I have incorporated moss (both living and dried), pine needles and other organic materials into sculptures, constructions and large-scale installations that explore the living energy of the natural world. It is while being in nature that I find myself closest to my art. As I carefully and respectfully collect mosses and needles, the seductiveness of vibrant colours and complex textures occasionally gives way to revulsion as I realize how much insect life they carry back to my studio. While I am made ecstatic by the beauty of life, I am terrified of stumbling upon traces of death. But now, with the pandemic, the possibility of death has come very much to the foreground where, just breathing in public feels dangerous. Although usually a citizen of the world, I am currently fortunate to be living in the country, with the expanse of Georgian Bay across the road and surrounded by deep forests. Outside of my miniscule bubble, I am essentially alone here and the deafening silence has force me to look further inward. My new work has become intimate in scale – small wall constructions made with pine needles. I sort, order and place my pine needles with Baroque intention. They are painstakingly laborious to make – a process that is contemplatively ritualistic but it is now the one area where I feel a sense of control and I am able to manifest love in a physical way. The forest seems ever more vibrant now because when the world went silent, Mother Nature returned to her dance, and now I can fully be in that dance.
• 
  2021-02-16

  Desert Mountains in Late Afternoon, Tucson, Arizona, USA

  This photograph of desert mountains in Tucson, Arizona, USA, shows the beauty and the power of nature. The image is associated with our creation of an Environment collection in the archive. We seek to collect stories about the environment: how it has been impacted by the pandemic, with changes in pollution levels, increased levels of trash, and alterations in human interactions, and how humans have interacted with the environment during the pandemic, using it decrease stress, get out of the house, grow food, and gain a greater knowledge and appreciation of it.
• 
  2020-05-08

  The world outside, during the pandemic

  The article describes how the pandemic has affected the natural environment in Arizona: the building of the border wall between the US and Mexico (with great effects on animals), the changes to how firefighters will put out fires during this time to adhere to social distancing guidelines, and the increase in trash in federal natural areas. It has described how some people have gained a new appreciation for the environment during these times.
• 
  2021-02-20

  Life Frozen, Caught in a Web, Safety Arrested

  It was an August afternoon, the sidewalks I walked were abandoned. I passed this safety light on DePaul University’s campus, which based on the spider web delicately entwined within, had not been touched in some time. A bug is trapped in the middle by a force they couldn’t see, till it was all too late. This bug and I were clearly friends. My life, like theirs, had been frozen in place. Everything I aimed to do, suspended for another time. Helpless to do anything, and worst of all, even seeking safety and refuge in friends and family, made a risk.
• 
  2021-02-07

  The Hiking Experience during a Pandemic

  The pandemic and the increase in teleworking mean that people are able to go to the great outdoors much more frequently than they were able to do so previously. My experience hiking during this pandemic has been different in many ways from hiking pre-pandemic. Many more people on the trails every day of the week and at every time, problems finding a parking spot at the trailheads, and a general reluctance for people to stop and talk with you. In addition, people seem to discount social distancing practices on the trails; they rarely wear masks yet they walk within a feet or two of you, and they also talk while in close proximity to you. Hiking has always been a refuge for me, a chance to escape from people and noise. Now it’s more like walking on a city sidewalk. I hope that this appreciation of the great outdoors continues after the pandemic but along with it goes respect for the land and for fellow hikers.
• 
  2021-02-07

  Nature Endures

  This photograph shows the imposing Catalina Mountains (Babad Do'ag to the indigenous Tohono O’odham) to the north of Tucson, Arizona, USA, with a majestic saguaro in the center front. The rocks in these mountains record millions of years of history. The multi-armed saguaro has stood for at least 75 years. Viewing these natural phenomena has always been a favorite pastime of mine, but during this time of pandemic, contemplating these forces of nature reminds me of the endurance of nature and the long stretch of environmental history. The pandemic and our current difficulties will pass just as other the saguaro and the mountains have seen many other calamities pass.
• 
  2021-02-07T18:36

  Mask Trash

  This is a photograph of a mask discarded on the side of my yard, in the desert where many animals such as coyotes, quail, javelinas, and rabbits make their homes. I have seen much pandemic-related trash discarded on the sides of the road, on sidewalks, and in people’s yards during this pandemic: hand sanitizer bottles, masks, wipes, etc. With the pandemic has come an increase in the use of disposable materials such as these, adding to environmental degradation and displaying a disregard both for people and for animals. This photo of mask trash shows a toxic side effect of the pandemic and a reminder that people need to use non-disposable items whenever possible and show respect for our natural environment by not throwing things away in this manner.
• 
  2021-01-31

  Venturing Outside My Comfort Zone

  I moved to Ohio shortly before the pandemic hit, and quickly felt both trapped and lost when stay-at-home orders went into effect. I did not have enough time in the state to learn my way around, and actually grew somewhat agoraphobic, convinced something bad was going to happen if I left my neighborhood, which was the only place I felt familiar with. Throughout the entire summer, I rarely left the ten-mile radius around my house. As the summer ended and I recognized how fearful my life had become, I reached out to a therapist and began meeting with her virtually every couple of weeks. She encouraged me to venture out in the safest way I could, exploring the nature around me and getting more comfortable in Ohio. Autumn came and I chose one park a week, going on short walks and hikes, and I fell in love with the colors Ohio offers in the fall. Pictured here is one of my favorite adventures I’ve been on, Cuyahoga Valley National Park outside of Cleveland, where I got to see the most gorgeous fall colors. While the world is still frightening at the moment and we still have to be safe in public spaces, I was able to feel more at home here by connecting to nature.
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  2021-01-17

  Spending Time in Nature Will Get You Through the Pandemic

  My story and photographs talk about the beauty and power of nature and how spending time in nature can help us get through the pandemic.
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  2021-01-17

  Potato Chips, Prana, and Perambulation: My Favorite Things to Weather the COVID-19 Storm

  This submission is a description of the five favorite things I have used to help me get through the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly as I have had to transition to working from home.
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  2020-05-12T17:30+10:00

  Finding Light in the Darkness: Sunset from a Melbourne Apartment in Lockdown

  This photograph depicts a sunset from my apartment in Brunswick West, Melbourne on May 12, just before lockdown restrictions begin to ease in Victoria for the first time since March. I had spent that time completely alone in that apartment, as my room mate left for Queensland before lockdown began, my family mainly lived in Queensland, and my friends lived outside my suburb so I could not visit them. This was isolating in multiple ways and led to boredom, sadness, depression, agoraphobia and loneliness. I captured many sunsets like this over the months in my apartment, which brought a small bit of light amidst the dark monotony of lockdown. From this view I could imagine what lied beyond the walls of my small living space, and look forward to a day where I could feel safe moving beyond home and my nearby grocery store. HIST30060.
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  2020-09-28

  Noticing the little things

  Like many people, I've been spending a lot more time in my back yard this year. Once the weather started getting nice enough our household and the neighbours all seemed to have the idea to start barbequing, just for something different to do, and we often had barbeques going in three back yards along at the same time. One such day I spotted two baby wattlebirds in the tree. I spent a good few hours that day, and the next few, just watching them and their parents feeding them, I even saw their first flight. It's something I never could have imagined spending so long doing before the pandemic, so I guess you could call that a positive of the experience. (HIST30060)
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  2020-10-29

  How the Pandemic Changed Us

  On March 13th, 2020, my entire life shut down with the rest of Massachusetts. My public school job closed, my university closed and my life began only existing in the four rooms of my apartment. My time became dedicated to my toddler, I became a stay at home mom, student and caretaker full time. The world around us had stopped completely, or so it felt. Quarantine was in full affect and people were stuck inside for months.Then, almost magically, our communities began to come together. I have witnessed some of the most beautiful things I for so long ignored because of the business of every day life, I witnessed nature and humanity again. I began appreciating the little things again. Quarantine had become a time to reflect, grow and appreciate the world around me. This horrible situation began to blossom into people supporting each other, clapping for the healthcare workers nightly, singing together out their windows, thanking each other. I share this image because I realized in the midst of everything that has been bad about this year, I’m reminded daily that there is always positivity in the world, even when everything around us feels negative.
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  2020-04

  Hickory Run State Park

  Since I work and go to school full time, it can be hard to find time to get out into nature. However, since the coronavirus caused my job to be furloughed for a time, it allowed my fiancé and I to use our newfound time to explore the amazing beauty of Pennsylvania's state parks.
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  2020-10-08

  How The Pandemic Changed My Life For The Better

  Learning how to ride a bike so I can go outside and exercise and be active. It shows I learned something new during the pandemic.
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  2020-08-30

  West Coast on Fire

  Even though the big story of the year is the Covid-19 pandemic, there is so much more going on behind the scenes of that story. The wildfire season continues to rage on. You hear the stories on the news, but unless you live in one of the areas affected, it can be hard for people to picture. This infographic illustrates just how widespread an area the wildfires affect.
• 2020-04-03

  Boredom Hike

  I’ve uploaded pictures of my hike to signify my boredom through this time. With just staying home, going on walks or hikes was like an event in your day/week. I don’t normally take pictures during my hike because it takes a lot to get good pictures and it’s a mostly boring desert when hiking. I was so bored that I decided to challenge myself and try to take good pictures on this mediocre hike. This is the type of little thing about this pandemic that everyone can relate to. I never would have done this without quarantine.
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  2020-04-03

  Boredom Hike

  I’ve uploaded pictures of my hike to signify my boredom through this time. With just staying home, going on walks or hikes was like an event in your day/week. I don’t normally take pictures during my hike because it takes a lot to get good pictures and it’s a mostly boring desert when hiking. I was so bored that I decided to challenge myself and try to take good pictures on this mediocre hike. This is the type of little thing about this pandemic that everyone can relate to. I never would have done this without quarantine.
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  2020-07-22

  Grand Canyon Adventure

  With the lockdown measures in place this summer, my friends and I found ourselves hiking and exploring much of Arizona in an effort to escape the indoors for a while. As a native Arizonan I have never had the pleasure of experiencing the Grand Canyon first-hand, but this summer, I was able to explore one of the world's most beautiful natural landscapes. Truly an adventure, we camped on Horseshoe Bend and kayaked down the Colorado River (in which I unfortunately dropped my phone). As busy students who had scattered across the world for college, we were able to reconnect and remind ourselves of what is truly important in the midst of this pandemic: family, friends, health, and the natural beauty of the one world that we all share.
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  2020-06

  Finding Beauty in a COVID World: Running Alongside the Locked Up Botanical Garden

  The New York Botanical Garden happens to be near where I reside in the Bronx. Every summer and spring my friends and I plan a few trips to this lovely place to experience all of the natural beauty of the garden. However, this year however, the “Botans,” as we like to call it, was closed for the entirety of the spring and a large chunk of summer due to the pandemic. I believe they are just now, in early August, starting to open with limited capacity. I decided to capture this photo on my run to illustrate how the garden’s beauty is able to penetrate the surrounding community even from outside the gates. You can see the lavender peeking up over the gate and we were able to take a look inside through the openings of the fence to appreciate the park’s beauty. My mask reads “New York Strong.”
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  2020-08-05

  Driving Around COVID: A photo series

  During quarantine, it's easy to feel bored and lonely. I took many drives during this time to help ease the pain. I submitted these particular photos because they connect to my experience in quarantine.
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  2020-08-10

  Growth, Gratitude, and Green Babies

  Teddy Roosevelt said, "The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future." As the pandemic and panic seemed to spread wildly across the globe, I found myself turning to my relatives for answers and advice. When specifically in their lifetime did they remember a time of uncertainty? What did they do to maintain a sense of direction, clarity to make decisions, a sense of well being and safety when each day's events are unfathomable? My mother responded with stories of her mother. My grandmother has always been the most resourceful person I know. Growing up in the Great Depression planted seeds of ingenuity and self sufficiency in her, which she continued to cultivate along with priceless experience and knowledge. She recalled people taking responsibility for their situations and security, and doing their best to make the most of what they had, which at the time wasn't much at all. I will never understand the scarcity she faced in that era, but I did experience the eerie alarm that washed over my fiancé and I entering a nearly empty produce section of our local grocery store, then another store, then another store. Almost every store in our small town of Lewes, Delaware had been almost completely panic-bought out of produce, meat, cleaning products, and hygiene products. It was at that time we decided to take a life lesson from Grandma, gain some grit, and get our hands dirty. Early June, we began a basic herb garden to get the hang of being "new parents to green babies" as we expressed it to our friends and family. We soon adopted a couple of tomato plants, bell peppers, red lunchbox sweet peppers, and as of recently, sunflowers. August brought our efforts to fruition when tiny peppers and tomatoes started to develop and today we plucked our first ready to eat hamburger tomato along with a few green bell peppers and scarlet red sweet peppers. Tending our garden has grown more than just invigorating herbs and veggies, but it has cultivated therapeutic peacefulness and tranquility while watering, cleaning, and caring for these little forms of life. We learned first hand the valuable lesson of just how giving and selfless nature is, ex. planting one seed and getting three pieces of fruit in return from that one plant, or planting one bulb which springs forth four blossoms. Giving life and helping maintain that life in something smaller than you grows a beautiful relationship between humanity and nature, a relationship which has become more and more distant. Growing a garden reconnected us to the knowledge, innovation, and self reliance, of our grandparents. It reconnected us to getting outdoors, getting our hands dirty, and getting into a flow state of mental clarity and caring for another living being apart from human kind. It reconnected us to nature, to the valuable lesson Mother Nature can teach us about selflessly giving and sharing, and a reminder of the respect she so deserves and is so lacking in the current state of the environment. I hope our story of our little backyard garden will encourage you to plant seeds of your own, to look to the priceless knowledge and experience of your relatives for advice in facing an uncertain future, and to share your lessons and stories of how COVID-19 impacted your life as well.
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  2020-04-22

  Wild animals take over lockdown cities around the world

  As people living in cities are shut away amid countries' COVID-19 lockdowns and the hustle and bustle of city roads are brought to a standstill, wildlife has taken over urban spaces. Penguins run riot in a Cape Town housing estate, Coyotes roam the streets of San Fransisco. A Kangaroo hops around Adelaide and Venice canals have become so clean and peaceful jellyfish have been spotted swimming in the canals of the ancient city.