Twenty-Nine and Counting
I carry a nostalgia the rest of the day that aches from the reality that some lives have been lived and some friendships have blurred.
Jon Gorter (‘17) graduated from Calvin with degrees in English and environmental studies and holds an MS in natural resources from the University of Michigan. He enjoys fly fishing, mushroom foraging, and waterfall scrambling near his home in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.
Five Haikus for July
three short weeks you live / as light; yet wait a whole year / burrowed underground
Two Years of Fish Pictures
Actually catching a fish is a bit like pulling the lever on a slot machine and crossing your fingers.
Dear Blue Ridge
Your springs have a mind of their own, yet they stay to their determined courses, following plans drawn up by gravity, grooves deepened by time.
Fainting in D.C.
“You sure you haven’t been smoking weed?” he asked for the third time. “It’s fine if you have, it’s legal.”
Loon Calls and Coney Dogs
It was apparent there, as much as anywhere, that the city and the wild are not so separate.
The Casita Crawl
Instead of making the trek up the mountain, Alfonso and I, along with our crew of fellow naturalists, researchers, and organic farmers, decided to bring the night life to us.
Fish Tales
Lurking the rocky bottom, deep in the black abyss of Bear Lake, the walleye patrols his kingdom
Sitting with the Darkness
Living in the shadows of 14,000 foot peaks, the mountains offered ample lectures on living with limited light.
An Ode to the Turkey
Let me tell you, dear reader, nothing so wrenches the heart like turkey tears.
Graveyards
Cemetery-learned drivers make for slow, steady drivers, who may or may not still bear the mental turmoil of having learned to drive surrounded by dead bodies.
Back to the Beans
I remember the first time I had coffee that didn’t taste like sludge.
Foraging for Connection
There was always another plant to look for, another mushroom species to find, and the possibilities of foraging were endless.
River Fever
I smell the sweet river dew and hear the rush of water over rock, and I’m launched back in time to my hunter-gatherer roots.
Cohabitating My Way to Hell
My friend had just described a hypothetical scenario of someone living in direct opposition to the laws of the church, and there I was, right beside him, living that life, deserving of reprimand.
Songs for the Rain
Rainy days have always felt exceedingly genuine.
Temporary State of Mind
Temporary is the only kind of time there is.
Notes From a Georgia Waffle House
Are we one, two, or three-ply people?
Notes from the Canopy
The selective pressures that sculpted the genes of our ancestors left deep imprints.
No Expectations
Anything I do on top of sleeping and eating a few cookies registers as an accomplishment.
Mashed Potatoes
Despite the poisonous potentials, the potato would steal the hearts, via the stomachs, of the world.
Coming of Age in the Arborist World
That’s when the client’s mailbox gets pummelled to the ground.
The Commute
I reach quasi Tour de France hill climb status.
Voicemails
“I guess you might still be sleeping and that’s OK, we can talk soon.”
Just a Grounds Person
There’s no time to let my mind wander when a two-ton Water Oak limb is hurtling toward the ground.
Contemplating the Bowl Turtle
It is a frequent casualty claimed by the trail.
Brian and Me
He’s the uncle that snores so I don’t like him, but he’s also the uncle that catches all the fish.
My Mammalian Nature
The bear ascended a steep rhododendron-covered slope which cut the distance between us and him in half.
The Joy of Wild Berries
The earth will teach you to pay attention if you listen to it, and it might even reward you with cool toads and tasty free snacks.
Monsters of the Night
Part animal, part plant.
