I was pleasantly surprised when my nature walk did not require a jacket or even a scarf, but instead warranted only a hoodie! Although the seasons I feel are what makes Maine a unique and beautiful place to live, there really is nothing like those few days in Fall and Spring that jump out and surprise everyone with nice, warm weather. I find that in the bitter winter months here in Farmington I find myself wondering how it was possible that I ever left home without a jacket on, that the air could possibly ever have been or ever will be warm enough so that I won't see my breath when I exhale.
This fall has been a particular shock to my system because for the first time in my life this past summer I lived in a state other than Maine. In North Carolina, you literally NEVER go outside in the summertime until nightfall, because it is so hot and the sun is so scorching that you can get a sunburn in no time at all (at least for my pale Maine skin) and the air you breath is so laden with heavy, hot moisture that you have to struggle with every inhale. The drive down to North Carolina for the summer was one that I will never forget in my whole life, because it was the first time I had ever been out of New England. As I drove down I-95 every new state I crossed over into was a new experience and a milestone in my life. As I was out walking tonight, I thought about how in the past year my world has gotten exponentially smaller, from my hometown of Kittery seeming like it was light-years away to understanding that it only takes one 5 Hour Energy shot to get to Washington D.C. where all the greatest decisions in the country are made.
In the past year I also had my first experiences with air travel, flying to Buffalo, New York to see Niagara Falls and also flying down to North Carolina in the Spring. Berry says that for him, "air travel always has about it an insistent feeling of unreality", and I find that I agree with him totally. Flying to North Carolina initially (only my second time on an airplane!) and then driving the same distance were two totally different experiences, as when I drove the distance I felt more of an ownership over the states that I crossed through, the sights that I saw. No one ever says, "Oh yes, I've been to New York City. I flew over it going from Boston to Florida". When I left from Farmington on my drive in may, it was 40 degrees here. When I got to North Carolina, it was 105 degrees. I was able to see the changes in the landscape, watch the pine trees disappear, see the land flatten out, watch the grass grow from green and full of life to brown and scorched. I was able to see the sunrise from the George Washington bridge, and see the differences the air pollution made to the colors. When we fly, we lose the most essential part of travel, which is the experience of going from one place to another. To appreciate the distance point 'A' is from point 'B' is part of what keeps our homes sacred and familiar, and with simply flying over the obstacles (like rush-hour traffic and Jersey drivers) we lose that sense of the journey, and our connection to the places themselves.
As I walked tonight in the woods of Maine, I breathed in deep the smell that only this state has, and was able to appreciate that I now know, for the first time in my life, what ~Maine~ smells like.
I have never been out of New England. I have never been to Canada. In that way I can appreciate how strange it must have been to drive through so many places that I imagine are so very different from “home.” Berry does seem to be forever entranced by the local, though. Despite the fact that he includes his journals from Ireland in this collection of essays he often states that people should be concerned with their communities. On page 52 he writes, “And if this education is to used be used, it is obvious that it must be used some where; it must be used where one lives, where one intends to continue to live; it must be brought home.” I wonder if by home he means just, “where one lives”. I get the feeling that he means more precisely where one is attached to the community, where one has history. On page 115 Berry writes, “This is only a way of saying that by ourselves we have no meaning and no dignity; by ourselves we are outside the human definition, outside our identity.” It is an extreme version of what community means and it leads me to believe that Berry believes “home” is more than just the place that you live but also the place where you have history and a sense of community. To bring this all back to your post, I wonder then how he feels about people who travel. How does Berry feel about people who live away from where they grew up? Are they at home? Is it good for those people to visit places that are so very different from what they are use to? Might it not lure them away from home? Thanks, for getting me thinking!
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