Items

• 
  2022-05-13

  Mask trash motorcycle in Peru

  While walking my daughter home from school I noticed this disposable mask next a motorcycle in Arequipa. It was about one block away from Av. Kennedy.
• 
  2022-04-26

  Mask trash grifo Porongoche

  Mask trash on the street near the grifo Porongoche in Arequipa, Peru.
• 
  2022-04-12

  VAP and SMhopes #28

  Help the Earth! We want Covid to end! Stop littering! Stop fires! Stop capturing animals! Stop wasting! Stop cutting trees!
• 
  2022-04-12

  VAP and SMhopes #19

  More nature
• 
  2022-04-12

  VAP and SMhopes #18

  End world pollution
• 
  2022-04-12

  VAP and SMhopes #4

  No more people = no more pollution; it's the truth
• 
  2022-04-25

  Mask trash Arequipa

  Mask trash by parque 15 de enero in Arequipa, Peru.
• 
  2022-04-12

  Abandoned Mask Found At Gas Station

  Mask I found while pumping gas. It's crazy how many masks are just dropped on the ground after using them
• 
  2022-04-07

  Mask Pollution

  This is an Instagram post by discarded_face_masks_uk. This is an account that shows people that have left their face masks on the ground, thus making it worse for the environment. Hashtags like #coveryourface do imply that they still want you to wear a mask, but are against people accidentally leaving them on the ground. This helps speak of a larger issue where with mask mandates in places in some areas, it leaves more opportunity for people to litter with their face masks, as people will take them off at times when doing certain tasks or if they think they don't need one in some specific area.
• 
  2022-04-05

  Big Changes to a Small Island

  At the "heart" of Polynesia, (referring to its geographic location in the Polynesian triangle) American Samoa appears as another tiny dot on the map. Nevertheless, it means the WORLD to its 55,000+ people, and to some, it is all they have ever known as their home. It is also the southernmost territory of the United States (below the Equator) and the second to the last place on earth to always welcome the New Year LAST. Perhaps it coincidently depicts the slow-paced nature of the island to which many visitors claim that "it feels like time slows down", here at a piece of heaven on earth that is deeply rooted in the Christian faith and the "Fa'aSamoa", a.k.a the Samoan culture or literally, the "Samoan way of life". The people of our island are like a big tight-knitted family--we are all related anyway--when something good or bad happens on the west side of the island, news travels to the east faster or about the same as the speed of light! It has its disadvantages, but for the most part, it is a beautiful thing to see the collective reaction of our people when it is of happiness, support, and sympathy. When the coronavirus started spreading rapidly in the United States in early 2020, our territory continued its commercial flights until mid-March when Hawaii's cases started to rise. Since March 2020, our borders were closed to commercial travel for the next 11 months, not including cargo flights and ships. Residents were stuck in the States for nearly a year. The first of many repatriation flights finally began in February 2021. The repatriation flights took place once a month, during which passengers would undergo a strict process of testing and reporting, a quarantined stay in Hawaii for 12 days, and another 2-weeks quarantine upon arrival in American Samoa. Throughout all repatriation and medical flights, the quarantine process was still a requirement, which was how positive cases were caught and taken care of to prevent community spread. Fast forward to February 2022, exactly a year later, news of a COVID outbreak quickly spread when it was leaked on social media that the family of a Department of Health worker tested positive for COVID at the main hospital. The general public was seeking answers and taking their concerns on social media until later on that same evening the said family tested positive, the local news channel held a Livestream in which the Governor, Lieutenant Governor, and the COVID-19 Task Force officially announced the community outbreak of the virus. People rushed to the stores to buy necessities and food before the lockdown was set to begin at midnight. The lockdown was marked as Code Red, with curfews from 9pm to 4:30 am, and business hours to be from 8am to 4pm, while all government workers and non-essential employees are to stay home, except essential workers and first-responders. Students transitioned to virtual learning and now interact in class with options such as "raise hand" and/or "mute/unmute". Our people had to adjust very quickly to the new reality we now face. A small island once free with family gatherings, church services, and close human interaction as we are known for...now all of that sounds like a distant memory that will take some time to experience again. Beaches and parks used to be crowded with people and all the happiness they offer their surroundings, now empty and eerily quiet with a "CLOSED" sign nearby. We are masking up everywhere--with little to no physical interaction--so far with 4,700+ cumulative positive cases and a total loss of 7 souls, which has hit our dearest island with extreme sorrow. While the world has moved forward and learned to live with COVID, even opening back up and unmasking, our island is once again a little behind with the experience. It is only the beginning for us! Fortunately, our unwavering faith in God continues to be our ultimate Hope, along with the support of our loving families, beloved people, the United States, and our fellow Pacific islands. One thing we are sure of is that WE ARE RESILIENT PEOPLE, having overcome many challenges for centuries! This too shall pass...on the bright side, in order for it to pass, our journey with COVID had to begin. Now we must go through it, endure it, and overcome together AS one like we always do! God be with us...God IS with us.
• 
  2021-01-30

  A View from My Window

  During a difficult time in which we are separated from one another, it is important to make the most out of every small moment. We don't notice all the tiny things that pass us by each day. This is my view.
• 
  2021-08-30

  2021 Traveling

  I uploaded a photograph of a stadium taken Athens, Greece while performers & staff were setting up the equipment during our visit.
• 
  2022-02-08

  Pink disposable mask trash

  A pink disposable mask on ASU’s campus near Coor.
• 
  2022-02-06

  Nozomi park mask trash

  Mask trash by the parking lot at Nozomi Park.
• 
  2020-03-28

  What to do when stuck at home

  Once the world shut down and everyone had to quarantine, I found that I had a lot of new found free time to deal with. Over the first few days I thought it was awesome, because I was able to relax at home and basically do nothing. After those beginning days, things started to get boring. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It took me a few days, but I began to look for more things I could do with my life. As a music major, I practice my instrument about 3-4 hours every day. I took advantage of my free time by putting in a lot of work on the horn which greatly helped my development. I have also been very interested in learning new languages. I decided to start learning German. So far I’ve been studying German everyday on my own since then. It has been very fun to read stories and news articles in German. I have also found a great podcast and YouTube channel that does an awesome job teaching German. I had also begun to exercise more during the pandemic. My friends and I would go on runs outside together. It was a great way to meet up with friends and be healthy. The pandemic was a very difficult time when it first broke out. Most people did not know what to do with themselves. There was a lot of sitting at home, watching television, or playing video games. I didn’t want to remember the time of the pandemic as a time where I didn’t improve as a person. I had decided to make these changes or improvements to better myself for when the pandemic was over. It has been a great lesson for me as the pandemic is still going on today. I have learned how to deal with difficult situations and also how to make the most out of them
• 2020-03-06

  Liberated Seas

  I was working as a deck hand on a ship in the South Pacific at the threshold of the global pandemic lockdown. There are myriad sensations a sailor knows on any given day: the varying strength, temperature, and sound of the wind or the feel of the sun or its absence. Yet what struck me that day was an absence of the usual boat traffic and the distinctive sounds of powerful breaths punctuating the rush of sea on the hull. In the relative unusual scarcity of ships to threaten them with injuring or fatal collisions, migrating whales had gathered on the surface in unusual numbers. The usual dull roar of the maritime roar had been replaced by throaty deep breaths. The puffing sound of them exhaling in choir as they rose from the azure depths surrounded us, as the captain ordered for the ship to slow and halt. A pod rested on the waves, surrounding us. One can project human attributes on animals, but the whales are sentient beings and their breaths did sound like sighs of relief in the absence of any ships besides ours. The captain cursed at the delay but artificial sense of time of course was a human construct that seemed so dwarfed then by those giant breaths, a reminder of the primal rhythms of the sea and that we were ultimately an invasive species humbled by a virus and the natural power of the ocean.
• 2020-05

  Silence in the Morning

  At the beginning of the pandemic, I was working at a hotel on a US Military base in Stuttgart Germany where I typically worked the overnight shift. As such, my commute home in the mornings was usually the noisiest part of my day. I would often pass by the local bakery on my way home, one of the busiest places in town in the morning. I would hear the sounds of the shuffling of feet of the people in line, the clink of coins on the counter, the crinkle of paper bags filled with the daily bread the Germans would buy or the pastries they would eat for lunch, and the whine of the coffee machine for their morning coffee. In the background was the constant droning of the morning rush hour traffic. After the lockdown, when the German government shut down businesses, I had to continue working as the military converted the hotel I worked at into a quarantine facility. I continued with my overnight shifts and my commute home in the mornings while everyone else stayed home. What struck me the most about my new commute home was the silence. The utter lack of noise was practically oppressive. I could close my eyes and the only difference with the dead of night was the warmth of the sun beating on my skin. What was once the noisiest part of my day was now the quietest.
• 
  2020-04-02

  Pensacola Beach Quarantined

  I live in Pensacola, about 10 mins from the beach. I have spent many a day at the beach with my family. The sounds and smells of the beach that are familiar to me are children playing, seagulls flying above, someone playing the radio, waves crashing, people talking and laughing, and the smell of nearby restaurants and suntan oil. It was the first week of April 2020, and I had terrible cabin fever from being quarantined, so I decided to take a drive up the coast. After about an hour of driving, I turned around to head home. That is when I really looked at the beach; I had never seen it so empty, void of all humans. I pulled over and got out, and the sounds were different. There were no laughing children, no songs on the radio, just the thunderous crashing of the waves. There was no suntan oil smell in the air, just the smell and taste of saltwater. It was surreal to experience the beach so barren but more serene than it had ever felt.
• 
  2021-12-16

  Connecting With Nature

  Throughout the pandemic, I've found myself connecting more with nature through hiking as a way to relax while still exercising. This photograph is a picture of a waterfall I saw that was particularly beautiful.
• 
  2021-09-05

  EPITAPH an excerpt from an epistle by Sebastian Delgado, dps

  [CURATOR'S NOTE] This is an piece of fiction submitted to the archive by the author.
• 
  2021-12-10

  Natalie and Tuck Oral History, 2021/12/10

  We interviewed each other with questions surrounding the various pandemics we learned about in our class.
• 
  2020-03-07

  HIST30060 Environmental impact of the pandemic

  This photo shows a large amount of waste in the form of face masks that were found washed up on a beach in Hong Kong. While the pandemic has been argued to have brought some environmental benefits, namely from the reduced pollution that comes with fewer cars on the road, this photo shows that our efforts to protect ourselves are harming our oceans. Discarding of our disposable face masks responsibly is something we should all keep in mind in the course of the pandemic.
• 
  2021-10-07

  Positives of the pandemic

  This is a photo of a community garden at a park very close to me. Although this project existed before the pandemic, it has flourished much in this time to become a beautiful large garden with many different plants. I think this reflects some of the positive effects of the pandemic, as for some people, it gave them the chance to focus on things they might not normally have. Community engagement and connection in this way has provided hope for many people during this time.
• 2020-05-03

  Quiet Lockdown

  In the part of Maryland I live in, there is a lot of noise pollution caused by cars and planes. On one side there is a large international airport, a busy road on the other and a large highway on the third side. Almost every day, the sound of cars, planes and the occasional helicopter can be heard. However when the COVID19 pandemic began to pick up pace, lockdowns were set up in an attempt to slow its advance. While the affect of this was seen in large empty parking lots at the airport, it could also be heard. The roads were quiet, as less people went out to shop, see family or go out to eat. In addition with very few people traveling, the daily noise of airplanes declined significantly. Everything became far quieter and a reminder of the lockdown, a constant reminder that we were going through a major event in world history. However while the quiet brought about by the lockdowns was a reminder of the pandemic, the return of noise was just as much a reminder. When planes and particularly cars started to create more noise pollution, it showed that even with a global pandemic and lockdowns, it wasn't going to stop people from going out.
• 2020-04-02

  The Silence of Nature

  I live in a rural area of southeastern Louisiana. When I first moved here the only thing that you could hear at night was the natural sounds that one would think of when being in the country, but as developments started to move into my area the air was polluted with the sound of cars on the distant interstate. The nights become a harmony of grasshoppers and traffic all mixed into a melody that formed a hybrid of urban and rural life. On the night of April 2nd, 2020 I was enjoying a night of looking at the stars through my telescope. It was a mainly clear night when I closed my eyes and began listening realized that I could no longer hear the cars on the interstate. Louisiana was in the mist of the a very high spike in COVID and lockdowns were in effect meaning there were fewer cars on the roads especially at night. I sat and listened for hours as I was able to hear all the sounds that were once masked by the intrusion of development on my rural area. From about April 2nd until early July this quite remanded at night. It was not until Louisiana started to open up more that the sound of the cars returned to my nighttime symphony. When I look back on the early days of the pandemic this is the memory that stands out and how it will be remembered by me. Though a harsh time in the world and for humanity, the sounds of technology and modernization were drowned out by nature for a time and it made the nights a little more peaceful and less stressful with all that was going on in the world.
• 2021-10-15

  The Love of Candles

  Before 2020, I hardly ever burned a candle. My parents had forbid it, convinced me or my siblings were going to forget about it and burn the house down. My dorm room had extremely strict (and understandable) rules about open flames and heat sources. It wasn’t until I had graduated college and moved back into and then out of my parents’ house that I was free of these regulations. Even then, though, it never occurred to me to buy candles. My favorite scents were often nature-based and could easily be experienced by visiting the ocean, or the forest, or the occasional bakery. It wasn’t until the pandemic, when I was living in Ohio without being comfortable traveling to the ocean, or to the forest, or in public at all, that I turned to candles. Soon one impulse purchase of a sea salt and balsam scented candle turned into a constant hunt for all of my favorite scents, to bring me to places I didn’t feel safe or responsible traveling to. My collection grew rapidly, and for the past year or so I’ve had a candle lit in my home almost every day. I never thought something a simple as a $7 candle I found at TJ Maxx or Bath & Body Works could bring me so much peace, calming my need to return to my favorite far-off places until it is once again safe to do so. Don’t get me wrong, candles still can’t compare to the real smells I adore, but even a weak imitation is better than a scent-less longing. Even though I’m currently residing in Ohio, I can use candles to feel connected to my home state of California, or my favorite places to visit, bringing comfort and familiarity in a time that is anything but comfort and familiar. My bank account may not be happy with me given this new habit, but it’s a price I am willing to pay.
• 2020-06-01

  Beautiful Silence in Paradise

  Hawaii is a very unique place in terms of its beauty and overall welcoming atmosphere. I grew up knowing how popular of a destination spot my state is and how in many ways we are extremely dependent on outside sources to fuel our small island economies and businesses. I had thought that aspects I had become used to seeing, such as the extremely busy downtown shopping and tourism part of Hilo, would never change. The many common things you'd have smelled seen and heard were the many cars out on the road, the overfilled wastebaskets by every park and beach, the tents of entire families at many of the beaches, and the constant rush of modern living in Hawaii. Then in March through April of 2020, the university in which I was attending at the time made the big decision to cancel in person meetings for the foreseeable future. The days of constant business and crowded areas in a matter of weeks ceased to be. In late April continuing until recently, the most common things you would see empty streets, closed signs, empty parking lots, and most importantly of all, you would actually get to smell the salt of the water from the ocean, the chirping of birds by the dozens in commercial areas, and even the return of sea turtles to what were known to be crowded beaches. It’s as if the lack of tourism and industry during Covid-19 gave us local residents a new perspective of our home. One where it felt like we could finally breathe and stretch out our legs for a bit while we dealt with the pandemic effects.
• 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.
• 2021-10-03

  The Scents of a Homecoming

  My maternal grandfather passed away late last year amidst a relatively heavy pandemic lockdown, and our family has since tried to fill in for him in caretaking for my grandmother. If he could have asked something of us, I know it would have only been to look after her. He was that kind of man. He didn’t need for anything for time with his family and friends, and his utmost concern was her welfare, even when she angered him. Recurring and cyclic apprehension and uncertainty over transmission rates, long-term vaccine efficacy and inoculated antibody generation have forestalled several attempted return trips to my hometown. Data-driven doubts have eroded my wife’s confidence that our collective vaccinations will protect her aging parents from life-altering illness and death have prevented her from traveling with me, even though she wont readily admit that outside our home. In addition to everything else the pandemic has altered or taken from us, it’s also complicated my family’s efforts to care for each other. My grandmother turned 86 recently, and her birthday was also their anniversary. They would have been married 63 years this month, and we wanted to make sure the day didn’t pass like any other lonely Tuesday since his death. My cousins and I put together a birthday dinner at the best restaurant in town, and I traveled back to New Mexico for a week to visit and help where I could. The trip turned out to inspire a self-reflection on the power of scent in my life, emotions, and memory. *** I drove straight to my grandmother’s home on Blodgett Street. I pushed the front door open, and an unpleasant stink hit my nostrils. Throughout my life, that home had particular smells that transitioned over time. Everyone in my family but the children smoked cigarettes while I was growing up, and it wasn’t unusual for a blue-gray haze to hang in my grandparents’ home during family holidays. It wasn’t uncommon for their 1000 sq. ft. home to sleep ten or fifteen people when we had something to celebrate or grieve. Ashtrays often overflowed if late night poker games grew too intense to step away from the dining table. I recall one Thanksgiving from my early childhood in which heavy cigarette smoke obscured my view of the backdoor while I stood near the front door. Even through those early years, I associated their home with the smell of sweets. Baked goods, chocolate cakes, snickerdoodles, and sugar cereals, although I’m now surprised any of us could smell anything. I never ate Fruity Pebbles anywhere but their house. Word reached my family in the mid 80s that hotboxing the house was bad for everyone’s health, and they began smoking outside. Grandad hated that; he’s the one who paid off the mortgage, so he oughta be able to smoke wherever he damned well pleased. Still, he took it outside for the grandkids. Since they stopped smoking in the house, and especially since they quit smoking fifteen years ago, I associated their home with a particular and pleasant fragrance. I never placed it, and I’ve never smelled it anywhere else. It wasn’t solely the scented wax my grandmother leaves on warming plates for too long, which are almost always homey food scents, like apple pie. The scent of their home welcomed me back to a place I am unconditionally loved, missed, and wanted. My jokes always hit, my cooking never failed, and everyone was always glad to see me. They were also glad to take my lunch money at the poker table, which I imagine might have contributed to my perpetual welcome. As of this trip, that unique aroma is gone, replaced by a light odor of stale animal waste. My grandmother took in a low functioning chihuahua about three years ago, and the dog is slowly and thoroughly ruining all the flooring surfaces in her home. It won’t housebreak, and it’s incapable of turning right. Seriously. The dog might be a reincarnated Nascar driver. It only turns left. When it’s excited, anxious, fearful, doesn’t matter. The only emotional arrow in its quiver is a left turn, and the only dichotomy is the circumference. The dog can run around the whole room or spin in place, but only and always left. Lefty shit on one of my most important and reassuring emotional stimulants. ** I also stayed with my parents, who live across town, and we share a love of food, especially comfort food best consumed with big spoons or served in casserole dishes. Because we’re New Mexicans, that means a heavy dose of Hatch green chili goes in everything produced in our kitchens. Throughout the week, my folks made all the staples for fall: red beef enchiladas, fire roasted salsa, smoked burgers, and green chili chicken stew. While I associated backed goods and sweets with my grandparents’ home, I’ve always associated the aroma of meals with my parents, and especially the foods that take a day or two to get just right in a crock or stockpot. Bubbling green chili anything reminds me of the best parts of my childhood, and I have no unfond memories or emotions associated with it. I never caught a beating over the dinner table, never fought over a kettle of green chili. Comfort foods have historically made all the hurt and misery of the outside world go away. That’s their magic, isn’t it? No matter what the day and the world brought to your doorstep, the right foods and aromas improved everything they touched. ** As such, the consistent and predictable wonderfulness of my parents’ home helped buttress my emotions and the loss of the Blodgett Street Scent. The disappearance of that emotional, olfactory experience altered my perception of the trip. I regarded its replacement as a bellwether of things to come, a foreshadowing of my grandmother’s seemingly imminent decline into managed in-home care. My concerns over what the light stink meant conspired with her increased hearing loss, the occasional repeated story, and the often-repeated questions to erode my confidence in her long-term stability. Although she’s now 86, she remains independent and self-sufficient. There’s nothing she can’t accomplish on her own with enough time and naps between exertion. I think I’ve taken that for granted, though, and I should begin managing my expectations. Thanks to a left-leaning chihuahua, I have to confront my grandmother’s increasing fragility and forthcoming dependence. I regret having never attempted to define its source ingredients, although I doubt I could recreate it at any other time or place. In the meantime, I need to get her out of the house long enough to have the flooring scrubbed and sanitized. If you’re in the market for a left-loving fecal factory, please inquire within.
• 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.
• 
  2021-10-09

  Trip to Hawaii 2021

  Back in April of 2021, I had the opportunity to fly out to Hawaii for a quick vacation to see my fiance. In order to do so, my fiance’s parents and I were required to sign up with Hawaii’s Safe Travels Program and have a negative test about 72 hours prior to the trip. While flying, we were required to wear a mask during the whole length of the flight. Even out there, there were some parts of the island where we were even required to wear masks outdoors and in a spacious area.
• 
  2020-10-20

  A Public Performance in the Middle of the Pandemic

  For the last few years, I have coordinated an event called, Dancing for a Brand New Me. It is a fundraiser event that is designed to not only bring about awareness to domestic violence in Lassen County, but it is a fundraiser to help pay for the the mortgage of the shelter for victims. Last year was the 7th year that local "Susanville Stars" were partnered with local professional choreographers to dance three dances before judges similar to NBC's Dancing with the Stars. Our local stars are usually very active community members who spend about 5-6 months learning the dances, but they also fundraiser to get sponsors. It becomes a fun, healthy competition to see who can out dance and out raise funds with each other. Most of the choreographers have participated in the event for many years. It has become a community favorite, selling out tickets both nights the third weekend in October. In 2020, we had to come up with four different plans on how we would perform, because of the pandemic. Our plans included only performing a livestreamed show to relocating our event outdoors. Normally, the event is performed in the local Veterans Hall that is equipped with stage, lights, and sound. In September 2020, I wrote a proposal to public health outlining in detail how we would manage the event. It took weeks for public health to get back to us. But what they approved was that our event could be held at the local High School football stadium, we had to mark off 6-foot distance, require mask, and have screenings at the gate. We had hand sanitizer stations and we were instructed two things: limited seats (200 people) and whatever we did, when we live streamed to not show the audience. The article that I attached talks more about the event than the obstacle it took to put on the event. It is incredibly difficult to move sound equipment in and out of a football stadium every day for a week. It is hard to do a staged performance when you are surrounded by a dirt track. It is hard to have your dressing room be the football locker room. It was very difficult to make all of the modifications and changes that we did. But we did it. And it was an amazing event. Even though we weren't supposed to, we have about 400 people in the audience each night. Most did not wear mask and most were sitting very close to each other. Even one of the public health officials sat in the audience not following the "rules". The event raised over $25,000! Just two weeks after our event, many of the Halloweeen events led to a Covid-19 outbreak in our community and the cases rose rapidly. Prior to Dancing for a Brand New Me 2020, we had zero cases. After Halloween 2020 our cases skyrocketed for a small town. I saw that we happened to just squeeze in one performing arts event just in time before things got bad. I feel like we were lucky and it was probably why the event was so well attended. I have the newspaper article and my proposal attached.
• 
  2021-08-13

  Covid Safe Activities

  My dog, Via, was born the year before the Pandemic began. Almost two-thirds of her life has been spent with both her people home all the time and she enjoys it. One of our favorite Covid safe activities is driving out to the beach early on a Friday or rainy weekend when we know nobody will be out on the beach. Via can run for hours and the beach is her favorite place to do it. She loves to dig and find crabs or look for birds on the horizon. I don't feel comfortable taking her out in public because of Covid and I don't want strangers coming up and asking to pet her so she mainly lives a solitary life now with her family. I don't know if that is good for her or not, but I constantly worry that Covid is messing up her life and her socialization.
• 
  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.
• 
  2020-09-08

  A Covid-19 road trip

  I have submit a photograph of the cable car below me surrounded by fog in the Redwood Forest in California. This is fond memory of mine in the midst of Covid-19.
• 
  2020-03-07

  Strengthening friendships and learning new hobbies

  When COVID-19 hit the states back in March of 2020, I was a freshman in college. I was sent home to and had to take the rest of my classes from home, for what we thought would be two weeks. Boy, was I wrong, two weeks turned into the longest and most memorable summer vacations of my life. When we had been sent home me and my three best friends wanted to make the most out of the time we were given, so we turned to our hobbies, which was fishing. Ever day I woke up earlier than I would have while at school. I found myself to be busier and more active during the pandemic due to all our fishing adventures. My relationships grew plentifully with my friends, and I was able to do well in school all at the same time. Throughout the pandemic I consider myself to be very lucky and blessed to not know anyone personally who had died from COVID-19, and I am beyond grateful for that. Not everyone is able to say the same. Even though I was active during the pandemic does not mean I did not take it seriously, we made sure to wear our masks, and practice social distancing. My friends and I decided that fishing would be the perfect activity to be safe while all still being together. We fished 7 days a week and gained so many new insightful skills and memories during our time. One fond memory that I have from the pandemic is when my friends and I went into a lagoon in the beginning of May when the ice had just melted, and the water was unbearably cold. At the time we didn’t have waders so we went in with whatever boots that we could find from home the water was much deeper than we had anticipated, by the time we made it through to our location that we wanted to fish in all our pants were soaked to our waists but that didn’t stop us from making it to our destination. I will never forget that day because it was a Tuesday in the middle of the day and we all had classes. It’s a great memory and I will never forget it because it was so unique compared to anything we have ever done in our lives prior to.
• 
  2021-08-15

  Time

  For me, the pandemic brought a new found attention to the passing of time. My hope for a post-pandemic life is one where we continue to find time for the things we most appreciate and enjoy - like a walk on the beach at low tide.
• 
  2020-04-09

  How fast things can change

  At the start of 2020, and even into the beginning of March, we had absolutely no idea what was lurking right around the corner. I recently got shown this video, and I thought it did a perfect job of capturing the suddenness of the pandemic. So much happened in only a matter of a few weeks; the shift in what life was and would be like in April compared to January was stark.
• 
  2020-04-23

  A Succulent Story

  This is a succulent that I received as a gift during September of 2019. I didn’t pay that much attention to it, though, because I was always busy with school, sports, and work. Then, when school shut down, I started taking better care of it, and it grew this interesting little sprout with yellow flowers on it. I took this picture to send to my grandpa, who loves plants, and asked him what it was. I think this succulent really illustrates life for me personally during the pandemic. Before the pandemic, I filled every single day up with activities from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed. And that was ok, I did well with that schedule, and I was able to grow in that environment. This succulent received little care and attention from me, and was still able to grow in that environment. Then, the pandemic came. It was an adjustment to not have to do anything, with the exception of online school. It was definitely not a schedule I was used to. But with time, I found the positive in spending time alone and doing things that I didn’t normally have time to do. I was still growing, but in a different way than what I was used to. I had to learn to spend time alone, and to occupy myself without school or work or sports. This succulent received more attention from me after the pandemic, and was able to grow with this new environment, but it resulted in a different kind of growth. Plus, it allowed me to have an opportunity to talk to my grandpa. We weren’t allowed to see them during quarantine, and I knew he would appreciate talking about something that he loved so sending him this picture allowed me to still keep in touch with him and talk about something that we both enjoyed.
• 
  2020-03-01

  Increase of Outdoor Participants since the Pandemic's Onset

  Since the start of the pandemic, I've begun to both run and hike when I get the chance. After talking with people who have done the same since before the pandemic, they've noted how there is absolutely an increase of people outdoors. For me, it's a great way to escape and improve mental health, and I think it's worth noting how many are trying to find ways to improve themselves and keep going through various ways during such a tough time.
• 
  2020-03-15

  Lockdown in the Frozen Tundra

  When we first got the news about school closing down for a couple days, school was the last thing on my friend group and I's minds. When we got off school that gloomy March day, I instantly met up with my friends to go up north for a trip we had been planning for weeks. I was so excited because we had so many activities planned such as snowshoeing, hiking, and snowmobiling. After we all met up, we packed up the car and left. At the time, we had heard things about Covid-19 from around the world, but we were all still pretty foggy on what it is and what it does to you. It was almost as if we acknowledged that it existed, but told ourselves that it could never happen in the United States. When we got there, we unpacked all of our things and quickly headed outside to go snowshoeing on a nearby path. When we were through with our activities for the day, we headed back to the cabin. I remember checking my phone and having a bunch of texts from my parents and friends saying that they had just cancelled school for another couple of weeks, and I started to think that maybe this whole thing was more serious than I had thought. Looking back on this picture, I look at all of our faces and notice that we were so oblivious to what we were about to experience. This is essentially the picture taken before our lives changed forever.
• 
  2021-01-19

  Meme about the Pandemic in Austria

  I saw this meme in January 2021. It was created by an Austrian online news platform called "k.at" and was posted on their Instagram channel. The first picture on the left shows a hamster who is hoarding (or rather "hamstering") toilet paper. This showcases a phenomenon which occurred in Austria as well as in Germany: some people bought as much toilet paper as they could in the beginning of the pandemic out of fear of a lockdown (also other things as e.g. noodles, rice etc.). The result was that most people couldn't buy any toilet paper because it was sold out at most places and the manufacturers of toilet paper couldn't keep up with the production. It was kind of absurd. The second picture on the right also shows a hamster who seems to have a great time skiing. This should represent the third Austrian lockdown. At this time (around January 2021) many Austrian tourists went skiing even though the numbers of Corona cases were rising. It was quite a controversy at the time because a lot of other activities (like social gatherings) were regulated by the state for health precautions, but the skiing resorts weren't affected (and the Corona cases were also rising in these places). A little sidenote: The Coronavirus allegedly came to Germany in 2020 because of German tourists who came back from said Austrian ski travels...
• 
  2021-09-13

  Mask Trash at Kiwanis Recreation Center

  I took my daughter to play tennis at 5:00 PM. When we left at 6:00, this disposable mask had made its way to the ground, right by the entrance to the tennis courts. This photograph is part of the mask trash series.
• 2021-09-10

  A new gratitude for our little farm...

  My husband and I bought a little secluded farm in Vanleer, Tennessee in 2013. We had this idyllic notion that we could grow our own food, live off the grid, and have a sense of privacy we never had living in the city. But, were were awful at it, nothing ever grew, our house was the ultimate "fixer-upper" and we were far from everything. In the last two years or so, we started to long for living in the city again, being near conveniences, and not commuting over one miles a day. Then, the pandemic came and my job sent us all home to work remotely. I am museum curator and what I do is very hands on, so that took some clever adjustment and reinvention. We also have the world's slowest internet, but I made it work by duct taping the jetpack to the only window where it worked. As the months went by, I read so many accounts of how the isolation and seclusion of shelter in place orders led to depression. Some of my friends who lived in apartments in the city described feeling claustrophobic and trapped. I realized, that despite other uncertainties caused by the pandemic, that I was happier than usual and felt completely peaceful in our little secluded twelve acre homestead. I could roam around my own land, take my dogs for walks, work on the never ending house projects, or just sit on the porch and appreciate the sunset. When things started to return to normal and we began going back into the office, I broke my foot while trail running and that added another seven months of completely remote work to my job. Physically, my recovery was grueling, but mentally I was doing well thanks to the time already spent quarantining during the pandemic. I have a new love and appreciation for this little farm that won't grow anything now. Both my husband and I have no desire to move back to the city and we have even made peace with the fact that we will never finish all the fixer-upper chores. The gratitude I feel for this beautiful place is immeasurable. I am one of the lucky people who could quarantine and not feel like I was suffering. During the pandemic, we built a small A-frame cabin down near the front of our land and offered it up as a refuge for people who needed to leave the city for a day or two. Now, it's my little yoga cabin and a place where I can sit and be thankful for my little home in the forest.
• 
  2021-09-07

  Mask trash

  Mask trash has become so common over a year into the pandemic. This one was found on a bench in SanTan Village mall in Gilbert, Arizona.
• 
  2020-06

  Pandemic Gardening

  While there were a lot of terrible things that happened as a result of Covid-19, I feel that one positive was humanity's return to nature. With so many places closed down, people were forced to go outside and enjoy forests, beaches, yards, etc. I was one of these people, and I discovered a talent for gardening. I enjoyed gardening before Covid-19, but the hobby really took off during the 2020 lockdowns. I grew potatoes, onions, flowers, herbs- anything that could be planted, I planted!
• 
  2021-09-01

  N-95 mask in parking lot #11

  The N-95 mask is designed for a very close facial fit and the filtration of airborne particles because its edges are designed to seal around the nose and mouth. They are one of the most effective and sought-after masks by healthcare workers and others. This image shows a dusty and dirty N-95 mask laying in the #11 parking lot on the ASU campus near the Child Development Lab. This image is part of the mask trash series and Arizona State University item set.
• 
  2021-08-21

  Mask trash

  I went to Sedona to celebrate my birthday with some friends. We decided to do the bell rock hike and as we were hiking and enjoying nature it felt like life before Covid. It was an odd feeling of normalcy. That feeling quickly fled as we got lost on our way back to the parking lot. We ended up walking on the highway back to the parking lot instead of walking through a random trail. As we walked I came across this mask, there’s no way of knowing if it came from a car or a hiker but I was quickly reminded that we are still in the midst of a pandemic. Seeing left behind masks always makes me wonder how much mask trash has impacted our environment.
• 
  2021-01

  Wolfeboro Storm Damage

  These are two screenshots of a post and comment from the official Camp Wolfeboro Facebook page talking about damage the camp sustained in January 2021 from storms. The post provides a donation link for people to donate money to fix the damage; the post notes the donation goal is $20,000. The post notes that 40 trees fell in camp and that the water heater shed was destroyed. A comment left by the camp account under the post says "At this time, about 40 trees down in camp and on the road. The water heater shed has also been destroyed. This information is as of Sunday, no news on the storms of the past 48 hours". The post was uploaded on January 27, 2021.