Potato bugs stuck in the window screen. Dragonflies skimming over the ponds settle surface. The glow of a setting summer sun highlighting the buzzing gnat-ball in an amber halo.
The sights, sounds, and smells of summer are pungent.
Bittersweet bodily memory makes the scarce hot day feel like Texas. An orchestra of cicadas, the gentle lightshow of evening lightning bugs, twittering of acrobatic swallows swimming across the sky. It makes me feel like I’m 9 again. Knees bloodied and bruised. Barefoot, wild, and smiling. Spending the summer on my Nana’s farm.
It’s everything like it, yet nothing akin at the same time.
There was something magical in the air during GMCG’s recent Nature Journaling class. It awoke something in me, an untameable spirit that has been put to bed for too long. As I reflect, my entire service has been an unbearingly beautiful experience. One that I’ve never undergone, but am frighteningly in tune.
Treading the edge of Berry Bay channel on a lively lake sampling day, the overbearing sun set high, on the hunt for mussels underfoot. Grateful is the only worthy label I can offer to adequately describe how I feel, as I brood with the end of summer nostalgia.
Days have begun to pass like nothing, and as the uncertainty of what awaits after service teases the horizon, I begin to miss little things. The notable warmth of the oven during winter, and the way the snow sparkled when the sun hit it just right. The drizzling foggy fall day spent raking and taming trails, donned in prideful AmeriCorps fluorescence. The instantaneous arrival of spring, modest and bursting with fragrance, declared only by the spawning of ticks, the transition of my wardrobe, and an unwelcome return of seasonal allergies.
I’ve gained so much experience over the short span of time I’ve been here. And not just the kind you use to beef up your resume. I’ve learned how to go with the flow. I’ve learned when to let go, and when to say no. I’ve learned how to be a better judge of character; for better or worse. I’ve learned how to set boundaries, appreciate my individuality, and be respectfully selfish. I’ve learned to embrace fear, and to be more independent. I’ve learned what I like, what I don’t like, and things that are still a little gray. I’ve learned how to better discern, display, describe, and deal with emotions; both mine and others. I’ve learned to give myself more credit, yet remain humble. I’ve learned how to converse with anyone, anywhere, and with a sense of humor, confidence, and kindness. I’ve learned how to maintain trails, apply microscopy, project manage, present to municipalities, engage with the community, and develop interpretive trails. I’ve learned that I’m only truly fulfilled when at the end of the day my boots are covered in dirt, my hands are worn, my skin is tanned, and there’s a tick surely embedded, waiting to be discovered before a well deserved shower.
Most importantly though, I’ve learned that what Jill premonated was right. They’ve made a New Englander out of me, and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave…
Hailey is a full-year member serving at Green Mountain Conservation Group. You can learn more about Hailey here!