A Transcendentalist Reflection of Sorts

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I should have done this earlier in the day when it wasn’t as cold out. Right now it’s about 50 degrees Fahrenheit with a little bit of a breeze. The sky is grey and there isn’t a ray of sunlight to be seen. The faint patches of blue, however, tell me that the clouds that cover the sun are most likely storm clouds. My ears are bombarded with the incessant chirping of the crickets, all of whom have seemed to take residence within hearing range. All the leaves are in a sort of twilight zone between green and yellow and most of the flowers are still alive, so fall hasn’t exactly begun, but the temperature and the wind suggest otherwise. Besides the smell of apple crisp emanating from my house, the air smells crisp and wet, most likely due to the clumps of wet leaves surrounding me. I can hear the frantic noise of an animal running through the woods behind my house, probably deer scrounging for some plants that are still alive to eat. Actually, it is most likely a squirrel, (looking for the remnants of any acorns), which is quite common in my backyard.
The breeze is picking up and I can hear the leaves rustling and crackling as the flounder along the ground or in the trees. I just saw an airplane pass overhead, which serves as an acute reminder that in modern American society, it is extremely difficult to completely escape civilization. In my opinion, Thoreau, Emerson and all the other Transcendentalists had it easier when trying to escape the “oppression that is civilization”. All they had to do was walk about two miles from their homes and BAM! They reached beyond the fringes of civilization. But all in all, this little break from technology was refreshing, relaxing and made me realize that it is far too cold to do this again.





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