Post 10: ...salt...grr...

Although I know that I would be furious if I were to slip on an icy pathway, hurt myself, and end up going to class with a wet rear, I can't help but hate the salt. I hate crunching on it, I hate the way it marks my pants and boots, and frankly, I hate how unnatural it looks on the ground. Large, blocky grains of salt surrounded by small pools of water... it looks so gross. I know that there are many benefits, in particular the number of injuries it helps avoid, but I wish there was a better way. I've heard discussions about how it is bad for the surrounding environment as well. As the snow melts and washes away the salt remains, it embeds itself into the ground, which can result in areas of stunted plant growth. I know that gravel can create mud and look even less appealing, but would this maybe be a more eco-friendly alternative? Heated sidewalks don't leave white streaks on clothing or result in muddy slosh, but then there's the question of wasting electricity. Really, there appears to be no good option...

http://www.aboutmyplanet.com/files/2009/01/427540206_ee5b9f53f6.jpg

Post 9: "Christmas Time is Here..."

The week of Christmas Fest has arrived on St. Olaf campus, and along with additional stress, there have been some noticeable changes as a result. Garlands and wreaths and Christmas trees have sprung up around campus. While these do provide a wonderful holiday feel, I have to wonder as to whether these decorations are the most environmental option for our "green" campus. Over the years, I have heard different discussions on whether Christmas trees in particular are very environmental as SO many pine trees are cut down for this event. Because we have real garlands and wreaths as well, this adds up to a great deal of tree destruction. Although our campus is red and green for Christmas, we're drifting from our other green movement.

Post 8: Surrounded by Fields

A very distinct element of the Northfield landscape is farmland. Confined mostly to campus, I tend to forget about the vast expanses of agrarian fields that surround the hill. As we discussed in class, perhaps this was part of the appeal for St. Olaf's location as students would be able to focus on their studies and not have the ability to waste time in a nearby city or urban area.
Although Northfield does have a "downtown," in a way, the St. Olaf (and Carleton-blah :-P) campus is the more central and lively part of the community. Given that so much of Northfield's population is students and given that a great deal of social activities in Northfield are located on campus, St. Olaf is more of a "downtown."
In contrast with the agrarian land surrounding Northfield, St. Olaf is an island of activity and excitement.

Post 7: Down to Earth

In class, we spent a fair amount of time discussing Jeffersonian architecture and the different qualities that distinguish it from other types of architecture. One point that was emphasized was the fact that Jefferson went against the more classical, palladian norm and did not build upwards and away from nature, but rather incorporated his structures into the landscape.
St. Olaf architecture, however, does not really follow the Jeffersonian style. Instead, our campus contains many buildings that are tall and move away from nature. While a few buildings, like Kildahl, have a lower structure, many of the buildings are not and are grand and more classical in their build.
That is not to say that I believe that our campus would be better with only low buildings. Yet, it would be interesting to look at other campuses that have more Jeffersonian architecture, and see how it affects students' interaction with/in nature.
Perhaps living and learning in buildings closer to the ground and nature would encourage students to not only be more aware of nature, but choose to further this connection. St. Olaf students do spend a fair amount of time outside, especially when the weather is nice, but perhaps not enough.
Although lower structures literally bring people closer to nature, does it bring them emotionally closer as well?

Post 6: Limited Space

One of my last blogs discussed the hill top location of St. Olaf College. Walking past the construction for the new Tomson Hall this morning, I began to consider the hill in a different way. As St. Olaf continues to become more well-known and renowned, the number of applicants and accepted students continues to rise. In order to accommodate these growing numbers, organizational and architectural changes occur throughout the college. At this point, it hasn't become a significant problem and there are enough classrooms and housing available; however, will St. Olaf ever reach a point where another academic building will need to be constructed, or more likely that additional dorms will need to be integrated into the landscape of St. Olaf? Being on a hill unquestionably limits the opportunities that the college has for expansion. Perhaps this won't be an issue if St. Olaf firmly remains a "small, liberal arts college." Yet if it doesn't stay the size that it is now, it seems likely that changes will have to be made for the school to be contained on this hill alone.

Post 5: There is Life Outside...

As I was walking to back to my dorm this afternoon, I was listening to my ipod, fairly oblivious to the world and focused on all the work I hoped to get done. During this walk, a song from Avenue Q came on called, "There is Life Outside Your Apartment." Although in context this song doesn't really have to do with escaping to nature and integrating oneself with the natural world, I found the chorus to relate to that concept all the same. It goes:

There is life outside your apartment.
I know it’s hard to conceive.
But there’s life outside your apartment.
And you’re only gonna see it if you leave.

There is cool shit to do,
But it can’t come to you,
And who knows, dude
You might even score!

There is life outside your apartment.
But you gotta open the door!

In many ways, I don't think that we make the conscious decision to ignore nature and landscape, but simply forget to acknowledge it. So often we're focused on our school work, friend drama, that cute guy in psych, what we want to eat for dinner - the list can go on forever. Sometimes we just need that little reminder that, while at times it seems like there's too much going on and we can't take time to do anything, we just need to take a breath, step back and look around. Appreciate what is all around us, notice the animals, the plants, the view, and take a moment to ignore the stress and anxiety that so often overwhelms us. We just "gotta open the door!"

adelineyenmah.com

Post 4: Up on the Hill

Being a student at St. Olaf College, I feel that it would be impossible to create this blog without discussing my views on the significance of the campus' location on top of a hill. Our unique location is something that we seem to take great pride in and like about our campus. Rather than asking your friends if they're back at school after break, typically one asks whether they're "back on the hill!" The hill top location is something with which we distinguish ourselves and our school. As per usual, I'm going to question this streamline mentality though and ask as to whether our location is really all that ideal. Yes, it does provide wonderful sledding and a beautiful view of the surrounding farmland and downtown Northfield, but besides that, does it serve any other benefit? Not only does it expose us to each and every wind that blows through, but worst of all, it isolates us. This may be viewed as a benefit as it allows us to create a close knit community, but at a certain point I think it can cause a bit of tension and a feeling of being trapped. It is not the easiest task to get off campus, even if you have a car (I think we can all agree that the walk to Skoglund can be a pain), and so in many ways we're limited to what is available on campus.
Prior to attending St. Olaf, I liked the fact that it was a compact campus on top of a hill, but now in my second year at the school, I find myself appreciating and envying the off-campus activities that are available to students attending schools in the cities.

Post 3: Erased by Snow

After the first snow of the season, campus changes dramatically. While many students run outside to roll in the fresh layer of powder, sled down Old Main, and have snowball fights in front of Buntrock, I choose to remain indoors for as much of my day as possible. A huge reason for this is simply the fact that I dislike being cold, hate when the sleet is blown in my face, and can't stand having the bottom of my jeans crusted with ice. Yet, even more importantly, I wish the snow could remain untouched for as long as possible. For some, the vast expanse of a white field is an invitation, a blank canvas begging to be painted. I prefer for this perfect, untouched stretch to remain undisturbed and pure. After a new snow, the imperfections of campus disappear. The dormant flower gardens become covered by a soft blanket, hiding the few remaining dead stems, and the cracked and dirty streets are once more smooth and glisten. Fresh, new snow, acts as an eraser for natural and also human-made flaws. I love snow because it makes everything new, everything beautiful, and the entire landscape becomes one.

http://fusion.stolaf.edu/photos/index.cfm?fuseaction=Photo&id=529

Post 2: Paved Paradise

For my second post, I want to return to the issue that I briefly mentioned earlier: the new and many cement pathways on campus. As previously stated, there are many students who believe that the number of walkways around campus are becoming excessive and that the presence of cement or pavement is becoming overwhelming. Yet, I find that I feel the opposite. Although gardens and trees and plants are wonderful to have on a college campus, or really anywhere for that matter, the pathways allow for more defined and well-kept locations for these garden areas. Without numerous pathways, students would cross campus randomly and go through the areas that are trying to be made more "natural." I think that St. Olaf campus could use this structure to the benefit and improve the landscape we already have. Each little cut out of land between the paths could landscaped without fear of students walking on/destroying the plant life. I think we could also do more rock gardens, like those surrounding the wind chimes, to add another aesthetic element to campus. I think the balance between cement and grass/gardens is in fact perfect on campus. To remove these new walkways, would allow for freer walking, and we would be forced to put more turf grass down that won't be noticeably damaged by the hundreds of students which would be crossing it.
In this case, the cement is allowing for more beautiful and fragile landscaping which will only enhance our campus. I believe we are far from fully becoming a paved paradise.

http://fusion.stolaf.edu/photos/index.cfm?fuseaction=Photo&id=313

Post 1: View from Larson

I currently live on the twelfth (very top) floor of Larson and decided to make my first blog about the view of the St. Olaf campus/landscape that I experience every day from my window (faces northwest towards Hoyme/Ytterboe and the wind turbine). After our discussions in class, I assumed that this entry would be primarily focused on the magisterial gaze that this view creates. However, when I woke up this morning at the ungodly hour of 7:00 am, and watched the campus begin to light up from the rising sun, I found my gaze to be far from magisterial.
In our lectures, we talk about how the magisterial gaze is a view the audience experiences when looking down onto the landscape and hovering above the portrayed scene (higher vantage point) . From here, the audience becomes the "magistrate,"  and possesses a more godlike perspective.
Looking down at the lifeless campus, I honestly was struck with more of the emotions I associate with the reverential gaze than magisterial. While many of the trees on campus have lost most of their leaves, they still appeared to light up with the sunrise and create long scrawling shadows on the earth below. Also, the concrete walkways, which have become excessive in many students' eyes, looked more like a serious of designs across the campus grounds than ugly slabs of concrete. It is very likely that the sunrise significantly influenced how I viewed the different elements of landscape from this perspective of campus; however, I nonetheless was inspired with more awe than I would have thought from such tall heights. I didn't feel empowered or like I was a godly figure that held dominion over the land below. I felt grateful, or rather, lucky, to behold such a beautiful view of campus.
I was not only "humbled" by nature, but the combination of the natural and human-made landscapes on campus and the way in which they became interwoven and connected from my lofted viewpoint.