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Your post was quite a pleasure to read! I enjoyed how you set the scene with the walk through the forest into the very interesting world of mycelium. It was as if I was there with all that nature around me, making it all the more interesting to learn about mycelium. I especially appreciate how you described the interrelationship between mycelium and trees-particularly how mycelium can act as a communication hub. It is amazing, isn't it, that by means of this very network, trees are able to share resources and send warning signals? I also loved how you compared the mycelium network with human communities. This is a strong reminder that we can do a lot more together and in the care of others. In the same way that trees find their strength in the connections below the ground, so do we by leaning on our communities. It was your post that truly brought this connection to light, and I find myself really reflecting on how collaboration works in our very existence. Thank you so much for sharing such a reflective, inspiring piece!

Unit 9 Blog

Picture yourself walking through the forest, the sunlight peeking through the dense forest canopy, the birds are singing beautiful melodies, and the wind is circulating the wonderful scent of earth. The peaceful ways of nature calm your soul. But did you know that beneath your feet as you walk is an unseen world the holds the forest you love so deeply together. This is the world of mycelium, nature's own communication network, and it’s nothing short of magical. This is most amazing thing I know about nature.

Mycelium is a vast network of tiny, thread-like structures called hyphae that spread through the soil (Holewinski, n.d.). They are the root systems of Fungi that travel underground, connecting to plants and trees, interconnecting the entire ecosystem (Holewinski, n.d.). The collection of trees we see above ground are interconnected through mycelium underground. This network is massive and fills the soil beneath the surface. It is one of the largest organisms present on this planet (Holewinski, n.d.). Trees and Mycelium have an interconnected relationship. Trees use photosynthesis to create sugars and share them with the mycelium (Johnston & Brewer, 2023). In return, the mycelium acts as a devleity system, bringing water and nutrients to the trees (Johnston & Brewer, 2023). The most fastiting part of this relationship is that Mycelium act as a communicate hubs for trees. They are able to communicate through sending signals and warnings through mycelium about pests or diseases (Holewinski, n.d.). This allows the trees to activate defense mechanisms to protect themselves (Holewinski, n.d.).

This is such a magical part of nature that I find so fascinating. There is an entire world that communicates and take care of each other existing right beneath our feet that most people have no idea exists. This is how forests stay strong and healthy. Trees can also share resources to weaker or younger trees to support their life and growth (Holewinski, n.d.). The relationship between mycelium and trees teaches us something profound about life, that everything is connected. Trees don’t just survive, they thrive because of this underground partnership. Without mycelium, forests as we know them wouldn’t exist.

This can teach all of us that life does not survive standing alone, but by being part of a greater community. The incredible network of Mycelium and its relationship with trees serves as an reminder for humans that when we stand united, we are stronger. Collaboration and support with each other is what makes us stronger. We can try to walk through life alone, but when we have the support and love of people around us is what truly sustains us. Just like the young trees find strength to grow stronger from the elder trees around them, we humans grow stronger when we can lean on one another. This reminds us that there is power in community, and with community we can succeed in anything.

References:

Johnston , E., & Brewer, G. (2023, March 11). Mycelium: Exploring the hidden dimension of fungi. Kew. https://www.kew.org/read-and-watch/fungi-hidden-dimension

Holewinski, B. (n.d.). Underground networking: The amazing connections beneath your feet. National Forest Foundation. https://www.nationalforests.org/blog/underground-mycorrhizal-network

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Unit 9

I remember how, when I was still in high school, I just wanted to come home and unwind, seeing whatever was on the TV after a really exhausting day. My ritual of half-watching the news as I scrolled through my phone was suddenly disrupted by a segment that had all the hallmarks of joining the long list of forgotten stories in marine science. Then, I heard, "The green sludge that could power our future," and I paused. I looked up, curious. What followed altered the world for me and put me on my path to where I am today, studying Environmental Management.

These words by the news anchor were animated with that very rare tone of genuine excitement. The camera cut to a sprawling, bright-green pond, bubbling under the sun. What I think most amazed me then was the realization that what I was looking at wasn't just any body of water, but an algae farm. It wasn't just about the algae clinging to rocks and ruining beach days; it was about a world of potential I'd never considered. The segment dove into the basics: how algae grow at incredible speeds, don't require fresh water or fertile soil, and can store up to 50% of their body weight in oil that can be turned into biofuel. My jaw dropped.

A lightbulb just went off in my head. Here was this slimy, green organism-so unassuming, so oft-rejected by the public which was quietly capable of making fossil fuels obsolete. The notion seemed the stuff of a science fiction movie, but there it was, on a 6 pm news slot.

The more I listened, the more it resonated with me. What if the algae could capture not only carbon dioxide from the air but also grow in aggressive media, such as seawater or even wastewater? I remembered the scientist being interviewed and saying, "Algae don't compete with traditional crops for arable land. They're nature's ultimate recyclers, turning sunlight and CO2 into liquid energy." I sat up a little straighter; my heart was pounding. That line stuck with me, humming in the back of my mind long after the segment had moved on. This was bigger than a fun fact to whip out during science class.

At the time, I was struggling with what to do after high school. I'd always cared about the environment, but I'd never quite known how to turn that concern into action. That segment was like a jigsaw piece clicking into place: I could work in a field where nature wasn't just something to be protected; it was a partner in creating solutions for some of the world's biggest challenges. That algae, oftentimes an overlooked part of our ecosystem, actually could serve in a way as groundbreaking as sustainable energy was what truly inspired me. It sealed my decision to study Environmental Management, hoping someday I would be part of the team to make innovations like algae-based biofuel mainstream.

Let me take you back to what made algae so cool. During that segment, the narrator just listed out a string of facts that got me wide-eyed. Did you know that algae can double their biomass in as little as 24 hours? Or that they can thrive in briny seawater where other crops wither and die? This is not all about speed and adaptability, though. The most astonishing fact was that algae could produce oils rich enough to be directly converted into biodiesel. Unlike corn or soybeans used for traditional biofuels, algae don't hog valuable agricultural land or guzzle fresh water. It is a zero-compromise way of producing energy, the sort of thing which I'd always assumed would exist only in the distant future.

I was practically giddy over how the algae could power vehicles, homes, and whole communities while sopping up CO2. The algae weren't cool; they're game-changers. More than an ivory tower curiosity, the possibility of clean renewable energy that wouldn't compete with the world for food or water is something the world most desperately needs.

Fast forward to today, I am a third-year Environmental Management student, and the spark that ignited after that news segment burns bright. Every time I read about advances in algae biofuel research, I know exactly why I chose this path. I want to be a part of a world where innovations like these aren't just talked about on evening news shows but are implemented into how we live and interact with our environment.

The algae taught me that even the most minute and insignificant parts of our world can make all the difference. They are the underdog of nature, and they just go to prove that true power isn't flashy or grand; it's usually hidden in spaces so small, just waiting to be noticed.

But if you take away anything from my story, let it be this: pay attention to the "green sludge" moments. Maybe they just might be the start of something that would change your life and maybe even change the world

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Your reflection gives a great insight into the inner relation between music and nature. I loved how you discussed the symphonies of nature-from the song of the birds to the wave of the ocean, how humanity tried to pay tribute to those sounds through their music in every culture. This connection really feels universal.

This was a particularly apt choice, considering classical pieces like Vivaldi's Four Seasons or Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony-those two epitomes which give the spirit of nature and help us feel the seasons or the wind through the music. It is incredible to imagine that even in modern times, musicians use sounds of nature in their art, proving that our music is still connected with the world around us.

Your association with Rihanna's Music of the Sun is enormous. It is so clear how that song returns you to Barbados, to the sun, to the beach, and to the sounds of the ocean. That feeling really shows the link between music, memory, and place-how songs can remind us of home.

Thank you for sharing these insights; they remind us how music and nature connect us to each other, to memories, and to a deeper understanding of our world.

Blog Post 7

Music and nature are deeply intertwined, with each influencing the other in ways that span cultures, ecosystems, and experiences. We can find music in nature all around us, in the calls of birds, the rhythm of the ocean waves, or the wind whistling through the trees. These sounds create their own symphonies, one that humanity has long tried to replicate and honor through musical composition.

From a cultural and natural heritage perspective, interpretation of these connections allows us to appreciate the ways nature shapes our artistic expression. As noted in "Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage," nature offers profound inspiration for the arts, shaping not only human creativity but also deepening our understanding of the world around us. In this way, the sounds of nature are often considered music in their own right, a natural soundtrack to life that many artists tap into for their work.

On the other side, nature exists in music as well. Composers and musicians have long drawn inspiration from the natural world. Classical pieces like Vivaldi’s Four Seasons or Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony paint vivid pictures of natural landscapes and seasonal changes. In these works, nature is not just a backdrop but a character in its own right, with its dynamic forces influencing the rhythm and tone of the music.

In modern times, artists across genres continue to incorporate elements of nature into their songs, whether through the sounds of rain and birds or through lyrics that reference the beauty or turmoil of the environment. Even the tools used to create music, such as wooden instruments like violins and flutes, are products of nature, subtly embedding the natural world into our sonic landscapes. This fusion highlights that, even in the technological age, nature is ever-present in music.

For me, one song that instantly transports me to a natural landscape is Rihanna’s Music of the Sun. Growing up in Barbados, where the warmth of the sun, the rhythmic crashing of the ocean, and the rustle of palm trees were a daily reality, this song encapsulates the essence of the island. The beats are reminiscent of soca and reggae, two genres deeply tied to the Caribbean’s vibrant natural surroundings and culture.

Whenever I hear Music of the Sun, I am taken back to the beaches of my youth—the golden sand beneath my feet, the smell of saltwater in the air, and the sound of the waves providing the backdrop to a carefree day. It’s more than just nostalgia; it’s a reminder of the symbiosis between nature and the culture that arises from it. Whether it's a road trip along the coast or just a lazy day under the trees, this song transports me back to the pure, unfiltered beauty of my homeland.

Music, like nature, is universal, connecting us to places, memories, and emotions. In both, we find rhythms, patterns, and stories that resonate deeply within us. Whether in the whistle of the wind or a well-played note, music and nature reflect the same core truth: they are inseparable parts of the human experience.

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Blog Post 7

Music and nature, in turn, are related in such a way that it would appear to spring from the same language-that of speaking to our emotion and experiences with no words. As we start to make an exploration of the role that music might play in environmental interpretation, we may observe how both music and nature evoke something more than or beyond facts to take us closer to the heart of the matter.

The first beginning of trying to be conscious of the place of music in nature has something of the effect of tuning into an ongoing concert. The rustling of leaves, the whispered caress, and the chorus of birds at sunrise: all part of a natural symphony. One soundscape ecologist, Bernie Krause, has long advanced the idea that ecosystems have an acoustic signature-or "biophonies." He says each landscape has its own unique mix of natural sound-its own song, essentially-and those soundscapes can tell us much about the health of the environment. I feel that when we take time to listen, it would seem that nature has always been "composing" music; we simply need to be attentive enough to hear it.

Next, we consider the reverse: Where is nature in music? For many, certain songs immediately transport them to a natural landscape. Personally, the song by John Denver, "Take Me Home, Country Roads," evokes memories of road trips through mountains and forests, further reinforcing the emotional connection between music and place. This is not unique to me, for music has long been used to evoke place or connection with the land. Songs, stories, and dances are deeply rooted in Indigenous cultures with the natural environment and are tools to help in the conveyance and transmission of relevant knowledge about nature. This in turn reinforces the view that music, like nature, is a connecting entity to comprehend and conserve the world outside.

Nature interpretation with the inclusion of music might also afford new ways of engagement. According to Tilden's third principle of interpretation, "Interpretation is an art, which combines many arts". If we combine music with our interpretive programs, the experiences become educational and touching. Especially, attention should be drawn to how Ben Mirin used the recordings of birdsong within his performances of beatboxing, to creatively blend the arts and environmental interpretation in both engaging an audience and fostering a deeper connection with wildlife.

Music and nature are powerful interpretive tools; together they allow us to create transformative experiences. By borrowing from natural soundscapes or using music as a storytelling device, we can facilitate others in seeing-and more importantly feel the need to conserve the landscapes we interpret. We interpreters should embrace the arts not just for entertainment, but to inspire stewardship and connective relationships with the natural world.

References:

Krause, B. (2012). The Great Animal Orchestra: Finding the Origins of Music in the World's Wild Places. Little, Brown and Company.

Mills, A. (1996). Eagle Down Is Our Law: Witsuwit'en Law, Feasts, and Land Claims. UBC Press.

Mirin, B. (2019). The DJ of the Wild: Mixing Birdsongs with Beatboxing. National Geographic Explorer.

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Your reflection so eloquently captures the essence of Hyams' quote and gives it real-world perspective, making the concept so understandable. The account of Wild Goose Woods really shows how knowledge of the past informs interpretations of the present, and without prior knowledge about the effect of Dutch elm disease, one might truly not grasp why maples dominate the landscape today. I think this is a good reminder that all things in nature are interwoven in and across time. Most of the time, while moving through daily life, we often overlook the deeper histories of the places we pass through on a regular basis, but learning those layers adds depth to an appreciation of the environment.

I also really loved how you incorporated the Sutton example from Pea Ridge Battlefield. Not to include the Cherokee Nation would be a huge omission in that story. This concept of "comprehensive integrity" just seems so integral to not just environmental interpretation but history in general. If we tell only part of the story, we miss understanding the greater impact.

I find your point on how we are going to face the future very well taken. We have to learn from the past and not repeat our mistakes, be that with regard to conservation or through everyday personal interventions with the environment. Recognition of the "train station" before and beyond our short stop in it urges us to take care so that rooms are left better for those coming after them. That is a strong thought that can surely help change the way people think about conservation and sustainability.

Blog Post 6- ENVS 3000

The quote in this week's blog prompt is a reflection on the importance of remembering the past and using the lessons we’ve previously learned to guide what we know today. The quote starts off by saying there isn’t necessarily value in any one aspect of the past, but there is value in having a comprehensive understanding of the whole. In most cases, you can’t fully understand something without looking at its past. By learning how a space used to look or be used, you can better understand how it looks today. For example, Wild Goose Woods in the Arboretum is composed of Freeman’s maple trees all primarily the same size and age, however it wasn’t planted like most areas that exhibit this type of growth. In the past, Wild Goose Woods was an old growth elm forest. When Dutch elm disease hit this area, it wiped out almost all of the elm trees, leaving room for a new species to emerge. In this case, Freeman maples, which have a higher tolerance to flooding (which is necessary in these woods due to the ephemeral pond that exists) than other maple trees. Since most of the elm trees died around the same time, these maples emerged within a few years of each other, creating what could look like a plantation at a first glance. This is just one small example of the importance of needing to understand the past to interpret the present.  

(Photo of Wild Goose Woods, showing several of the equally sized trees.)

The second part of this quote describes the ignorance that can occur if you don’t acknowledge the past. Hyams describes how easy it is to think the present revolves around ourselves by stating it's like thinking the train station you just passed through only existed while you were there. I think this is an important idea to keep in mind as humans tend to fall into a manner of thinking that only applies to what they are currently experiencing. Robert Sutton alludes to this in the video that was part of this week's content. He explains how much of what was described at Pea Ridge Battlefield used to focus only on the military aspects, stating it was largely about “who shot who”. He then discusses how they have more recently partnered with the Cherokee nation in developing a more comprehensive story that includes the interaction with the land and the Cherokee members who were active during this battle. If park services had chosen not to acknowledge these stories, they would be ignoring a significant portion of history and in turn the comprehensive integrity of the past.

The idea of paying attention to the past and honoring history becomes even more important when we think about the future of our planet. If we are conscious of how we acted in the past and we understand how our actions created what we see in the present, we’d be more likely to act in a way now that will lead to a more promising future. If we believe the railway station only exists while we’re in it, we may be more inclined to destroy it with litter or carelessness while we’re there than we would be if we acknowledged that another train will be coming in shortly. If we use the past in our interpretations, we may be better equipped to convince people that nature is important and worth conserving.

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Blog Post 6

History is not only something to be read within the pages of books or viewed hanging in museums; it is living, part of the landscapes in which we walk, in the parks we visit, and even the air we breathe. The tales of land, people, and ecosystems are interwoven as one takes a closer look at nature from an historic perspective. Like history, so too is nature dynamic and ever-changing. That connection is what we are to help others visualize as interpreters.

The quote by Edward Hyams , "There is no peculiar merit in ancient things, but there is merit in integrity, and integrity entails the keeping together of the parts of any whole…" The idea of integrity in storytelling truly identifies with me. In the context of nature interpreters, it means we cannot look at nature just in this present moment. And we should learn from and share its wholstory-one that stretches far into the past. A forest isn't just a collection of trees, and a river isn't just water in motion; they are replete with stories of their making. To ignore that is to pick up a book and skip over its most critical chapters.

Now, bring into your mind a favorite natural spot-perhaps a nearby park, a less-traveled hiking path, or an overlook with a view. Now, imagine this same place 100 years ago. What did it look like? Who might have lived or worked there? What sorts of species thrived in this ecosystem? History gives us answers to these kinds of questions, and aids us in looking beyond what is there right before our eyes. It's sort of like adding layers of meaning to what might otherwise be a simple peaceful walk in nature. For example, a national park may appear as a pristine, untouched natural setting today, but scratch the surface and you may find underlying Indigenous histories of people who lived sustainably on the land well before it was a protected area. Or maybe that area is one that was heavily logged or mined, and what you see in that forest has been the result of quite a long recovery process. These stories add depth to our understanding and appreciation of the place.

What Hyams means here is keeping "the parts of any whole" together. One cannot just focus on the here and now without understanding the full journey that brought us here. That is why history plays an important role in nature interpretation: to put into context the beauty and wonder of the natural world.

But it's more than just facts that are shared in storytelling in nature interpretation; it's about connection, and that's where things can get really interesting. Every story has multiple points of view, and in interpreting nature through history, we have to consider whose stories we're telling-and whose stories are not being told. Let's return to that example of a national park. That is, talking about the present conservation only, not mentioning a word about the aboriginal people of that place-we are omitting something. And again, if we do not tell them how those places have changed because of industrialization or because of climatic change, we are not telling them the whole story. We are interpreters and must question: What stories are being told? And what is missing? And, more importantly, why?

Sharing such diverse stories allows people to connect with the landscape in their own ways. It may remind some of their personal history or challenge them to think differently about how we treat nature. It may provoke a new appreciation for a place that was not previously considered important by another. Either way, through storytelling, nature is brought alive in ways that go far beyond what we see on the surface.

Of all the tools in this kit, writing probably plays the largest role. Because we know not everyone will get a live interpreter, we write books and articles, brochures, and signs at parks and even trailheads. The problem is, nature interpretation writing is not as straightforward. It's not enough to get the information across, we also have to work our words so they make sense to the most people.

That is to say, having in mind an audience. Whom would we be writing for? For frantic lovers of nature who almost have to know ecology inside and out; for other professions, people just coming in and getting a breath of fresh air on an afternoon's stroll. We have got to strike a balance between the two: how much to explain and how little. And it's not just about knowledge levels-what about people for whom reading might be challenging? Young children, foreigners, and blind individuals? Our writing should be flexible enough to engage any and all of these individuals whatever their background may be.

Hyams' point on integrity carries over here as well. While writing the history of nature, we should be complete in telling a story that incorporates the view of a native person, an early settler, and modern-day conservationists, as well as one from everybody in between. It is part of the greater scheme of things.

So, why does any of this matter? Because nature, much like history itself, is constantly in a state of flux. Climate change, urban development, and even tourism in places we love imposes stress on natural spaces. The landscapes we see today will not look the same 50 or 100 years from now. That's why knowledge of its history is so crucial-because it helps us anticipate what might come next.

We are not referring to the past when we share these stories. We give people an idea of where we come from and where we are headed, and through that, we might even help inspire deeper connections to these places, an affection cemented in understanding and respect.

Next time you are outdoors, take a moment to consider its history. Who came before you on this land? What has this place witnessed? What stories lie beneath the surface, waiting to be found? Interpreters have a job to make sure those stories get told and remembered for future generations to go out and experience such spaces by appreciating and protecting these areas.

Writing, however offers us the unique opportunity to add our voice into this greater narrative. That's a powerful responsibility. Our words shape the way others see the world, so it's important we use them thoughtfully.

Hyams, Edward. The Gifts of Interpretation. Chapter 7.

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Blog Post 5

Lately, I have been soaking in the change of seasons, especially as fall starts making its entrance. The colors are just so pretty: reds, oranges, and yellows gradually taking over from green. It's as if nature is trying to put on one last show before winter comes around. As the crispness starts to settle into the air and the leaves crunch at my feet, I'm reminded how peaceful everything feels but alive. With each passing season, I am struck by the change that occurs within my relationship with nature. Perhaps more than others, fall brings to my attention the dynamic features of the natural world and how my own relationship with it ebbs and flows with time.

This somewhat relates to some of the ideas about nature interpretation that I have been considering lately. There's something really powerful with using different lenses through which to look at the environment. I have come to realize that while science is a good tool to understand nature, it's but one way of doing so. Personally, it's more about helping others connect with nature in ways which resonate with them. Making nature relatable and meaningful can be through a story, an experience, or some simple observation.

This has been on my mind lately in light of the work that we have been doing with our podcasts: just so much potential to share in a way that's really engaging, no matter what one's age might be. Interpretation is like the seasons: it's always evolving, offering new ways in which this people-to-nature connection might be made. I am excited, just as fall would encourage us all to embrace change, as I do not know what this journey will take me on.

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I love how you put this across in respect to the 'gift of beauty' and how it is a much needed bonus than seeing it as only something beautiful, but one meant to set aflame that deeper urge to truly appreciate and understand the world about us. That really resonates-the using of art as kindling for that inner connection. That's wild, just to think that though most of us will never experience places like Mount Everest or the Northern Lights, art gives us this crazy ability to still connect with those places. In many ways, nature is more accessible through such an immersive means than it would be by anything in the world of plane tickets and hiking boots.

That must have been a powerful experience for you while visiting the Whyte Museum. I adore the concept of tracing artists' footsteps over a century ago and observing how much-or how little-change has occurred in the landscape. It is as if those paintings from Macdonald, Munn, and Cucman became other than art; they became environmental records that showed us just what the change has been over time. That is such a powerful reminder of the need for greater awareness and conservation in light of the reality of climate change.

That photography is actually your way of capturing and hence sharing the beauty of nature is amazing, too. I totally get that feeling of wanting to memorialize those moments, those glimpses into something timeless, like Mount Rundle or the stars. I feel that photography, like painting or sculpture, holds this peculiar power in bringing people to nature in such a way. Somebody observing one of your shots-you're giving them a window into your perspective, offering them a chance to see the world through your eyes. That's such a beautiful way to interpret nature and inspire others to look a little closer at the world around them.

It's just so real that the landscapes of today are not going to be there tomorrow. But insofar as art can capture these moments, freeze them in time, and perhaps even spur people into action? Well, that's powerful. I think you nailed it when you said it's both a record and a call to action. It provides a reason for them to care and serves as a subtle reminder of what is at stake. Thanks for sharing your thoughts-it really inspired me in thinking about how I can use my own nature interpretations to spark that want to preserve it within others.

BLOG 4: Gift of Beauty

Beck et al. (2018) defines the ‘gift of beauty’ as how interpretation should have the power to instill the desire to sense the beauty in their surroundings. It should be more than simply seeing something as beautiful; instead acting as kindling for an inner desire to truly study and appreciate the history and beauty on a deeper level. This is where I believe nature interpretation through the various forms of arts is vital. Many people may never see Mount Everest in person or witness the Northern Stars, but through visual arts, they can still connect with those places.

This past summer I visited the Whyte Museum in Banff, Alberta. Inside was their summer exhibition of paintings that J.H.E Macdonald made back in the 1900s of Lake O’Hara. Beside them were similar paintings made in the 2000s by Robert Munn and Patty Cucman, who retraced Macdonald’s steps to find his paint sites. Through their artwork and dedication, between the two paintings we can see how much of the landscape had changed or stayed the same overtime (Whyte Museum 2024). Seeing how the sizes of glaciers changed and where trees had fallen reinforced my belief of how important awareness is in order to conserve the environment around us for future generations.

Nature is often a large source of inspiration for artists in all shapes and forms. While I’m not very talented in capturing landscapes on paper and canvases, I find joy in composing and taking pictures of the environment around me. Photography has become my artistic way of memorializing the scenes I see around me, and sharing those images is one of the many ways I interpret nature to others. One of my favorite shots is a series of pictures of Mount Rundle. The mountain stands the same as it has for years, and the stars above are the same that people many years before us may have seen as well. It offers a glimpse into the vastness of the world around us and how much history each area– urbanized or suburban– holds. Through these photographs, I hope to offer viewers a similar experience, one that will compel them to look at nature a little closer than before.

Art, no matter the medium, gives us a way to convey the ‘gift of beauty’. The past and the present can be captured to hopefully inspire future generations to seek out connections with the environment around them. Visual arts pose as both a record and a call to action. In the present year, temperatures and other indicators of climate change increase every year. The scenery around us might not be the same in 50 or 100 years, but through artistic mediums we can share the beauty and importance of preservation. Overall, I believe that the ‘gift of beauty’ holds more power than most know or acknowledge.

References

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage: For a Better World. Sagamore Publishing LLC. https://sagamore.vitalsource.com/books/9781571678669

WhyteMuseum. (2024, June 24). J.E.H. Macdonald: The O'Hara Era - Summer 2024 Whyte Museum Exhibition in Photos. The Whyte Museum. https://www.whyte.org/post/jeh-macdonald-o-hara-summer-2024-whyte-museum-exhibition

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Blog Post 4- Who Am I to Interpret Nature Through Art?

So, I'm an environmental management student, deep into my third year of studying ecosystems, sustainability, and all the serious stuff that comes with it. But recently, we started talking about nature and art—two things that, if I'm being honest, I never thought I'd be combining in a class. And the biggest question they threw at us was, "Who are you to interpret nature through art? " Like, what? I'm not an artist.

I'm the person who stares at spreadsheets of data and debates with friends over recycling rules.

But here's the thing: the more I think about it, the more I realize that anyone can interpret nature through art. And we already do, all the time, without even thinking about it.

Art and Nature: More Connected Than You'd Think Okay, let's start with the obvious-people have been using art to talk about nature forever. If you're Canadian, then you've definitely seen the Group of Seven's paintings, even if you didn't know that's who you were looking at. Their landscapes have become iconic in their own right, showing off the vastness and beauty of the wilderness here. But if you look closely, you'll notice something: their paintings don't show people, just nature in all its untouched glory. It's not just the trees or lakes; it's about how those things make us feel-peaceful, small, in awe, whatever it may be.

Art is about those feelings. You don't have to be Picasso. Think about the last time you took a picture of a sunset, or that first snowflake landing on your sleeve. Whether you shared it on Instagram or just stared at it for a minute, you were capturing a moment of beauty. That's art, and that's how you interpret nature-through the emotions that it stirs up in you.

What does "The Gift of Beauty" even mean? So now it gets a little deeper. The beauty of nature is not what we make; it is what we are privileged to see. It is a present. And hence, whatever be the thing that appears to be beautiful to us-sunlight through the trees, waves on the shoreline-we want that to stay in our minds. And that is why we take pictures of it, or draw pictures or just sit there and drink it in. What did keep coming up through our class readings was that the role of art in interpreting the environment is not one of beautification but rather of connection. In showing a person a work of art, or even describing what you saw on your hike, you are allowing them to connect with nature in a new way.

You're saying, "Hey, this moment was beautiful, and I want to share it with you." And that connection can make people care more about the environment.

Taking Risks: Not Just for Adventure Sports Here's another theme we've been addressing in class: risk. Not the mountaineering, whitewater rafting kind of risk, but risking yourself. When you interpret nature-whether through art, words, even leading a nature walk-you are risking yourself. What if people don't "get" it? What if you don't feel like you know enough? But that's a risk worth taking, if you ask me. Think of the times when you have shared a photo or told a story about something that you have seen and found beautiful. Maybe not everyone understood why it had such a big deal to you, but I know some of them must have. And that is really what makes it all worth the risk-because when that connection is made, it is powerful.

You have allowed someone else to see the world a little differently, and maybe care a little more about protecting it.

So, Who Am I to Interpret Nature Through Art? Honestly, I'm just someone who loves nature and sees the beauty in it. I'm not an artist, but I can appreciate a good sunrise, or the way light reflects off a river. I think we all can. Thus, in relation to art being the means of expression of nature, I don't believe any of us holds a place. Whether one draws, takes pictures, or simply describes the perfect day to a friend, he or she is capturing a little bit of that beauty and relaying it to the world.

And honestly, that is good enough.

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I really enjoyed reading your post! You’re so right—talking about privilege is important, not just for understanding others but also for helping us become better stewards of the environment. I love how you pointed out that privilege isn’t just about money or social status, but also things like access to nature and the ability to spend time in outdoor spaces. That really stood out to me because it's something we might not always realize is a privilege.

Your experiences traveling to Northern Ontario parks sound amazing, and I can totally relate to how special those moments can be. Not everyone has the chance to do that, and it’s great that you’re thinking about how we can make nature more accessible for everyone. It’s easy to forget how much of a privilege it is to just be in nature, especially when it’s right in your backyard or you have the resources to travel.

I also agree with what you said about tailoring nature interpretation programs to different ages and backgrounds. Privilege definitely affects how people interact with these programs, and it’s on us to make sure everyone feels included and comfortable, no matter their background. The example from Chapter 7 about knowing your audience and adapting to different age groups really ties in perfectly with that. It’s a great reminder that inclusivity is key to what we do!

All in all, I think you made some great points about how privilege affects both access to nature and nature interpretation. It’s so important to think about how we can make these spaces more welcoming for everyone!

Unit 3 Blog Post!

What role does “privilege” play in nature interpretation?

Hey everyone, 

I truly appreciate the seriousness of this week's unit. Discussing serious topics such as privilege is an important part of the learning process and it is what makes us better people and stewards of the world. If we avoid discussing serious topics, we will never learn the importance of them and the ability to respect and understand different experiences. Therefore, I'm glad we are discussing this topic this week! 

I would define privilege as advantages granted to individuals or groups that can make their experience in life much easier in comparison to others. This privilege is usually based on their life circumstances. It can also be described as the experience of being relatively better off than someone else. Race, class, gender, sexuality, geographical location, socioeconomic status, ability, religion and education are all examples of different privileges. It is important to recognize these types of privileges as it can help us understand these often invisible advantages and how others may face obstacles or discrimination in their daily lives. Having privilege can often open up more doors in one's life such as access to more opportunities, social acceptance, reduced barriers, and many more invisible benefits. With this, it is important to recognize the existence of such privileges so that we may address systemic inequalities that exist in society. 

I also consider many experiences in life to be a privilege. The privilege to access outdoor spaces, the privilege to travel, the privilege to experience these times with friends and families. There are many more experiential privileges that not everyone has the ability or opportunity to experience. I think back to some of my own experiences in nature. I recognize that I have been able to drive to Northern Ontario Parks and spend more than a week in beautiful natural spaces. Connecting with the environment. This week's topic has made me recognize that these experiences I have had are a great privilege and not everyone may have the same opportunity to do such things. It is something I hold so close to me, and it made me think about ways I could help nature be more accessible to everyone. 

Privilege definitely has a significant role in nature interpretation. Privilege can be a deciding factor in who has access to natural spaces and nature interpretive programs. As nature interpreters, it is part of our role to be able to reach as many people as possible. Thinking back to this week's reading of Chapter 7, I really like how the chapter expresses the importance of getting to know your audience and I definitely agree that this is an important role of being a nature interpreter. It is important to know what ages make up our audience to be able to tailor to different attention spans and stages of cognitive development. Different ages also have different interests and it's important to bring something to the table for everyone. Sometimes you may encounter a group with multiple age ranges, therefore as a good interpreter this means being prepared to have topics and/or activities that cater to each age range. I appreciate the textbooks' detail on providing different principles to apply to programs for different ages. For example, adding an aspect of adventure, exploration and imagination for children or adding in schedules for early morning/daytime programs for seniors who often cannot attend late night programs. The textbook provides ample examples of how to connect with many different age groups and this is a great resource for learning nature interpreters.

In nature interpretation, privilege can also represent people's access to natural spaces. Not everyone has access to large natural spaces near them, or the ability to travel to these spaces, therefore this can shape whether someone experiences nature regularly, which impacts their connection to it. People who visit parks also come from many diverse backgrounds and life experiences and as interpreters it is important to recognize this. People from marginalized groups might feel unwelcome or overlooked when participating in programs that interpret natures because of past discrimination and exclusion. In contrast, privileged groups often don't face the same challenges when participating in these programs. As nature interpreters, it is our job to make all people feel welcomed and comfortable to be part of our programs and experience. 

These are all part of why I think learning this week's topic is super important! Going forward as a nature interpreter, i'm glad resources such as our textbook exist as it offers many great examples and solutions on how we can tailor our nature interpretation to everyone!

Thanks everyone:)

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Blog Post 3

Privilege is often defined as the special rights, advantages, or immunities granted to a particular group of people, often without the same responsibilities or barriers faced by others. It can manifest in various forms, such as racial, socioeconomic, gender-based, or educational privileges, shaping experiences and opportunities in significant ways.

As woman studying environmental management, I recognize that I have certain privileges as well. I have the opportunity to pursue higher education and access resources that many others may not. I can engage in conversations about environmental issues and participate in programs that aim to protect our planet. My ability to speak English and navigate academic spaces gives me an advantage in this field. Acknowledging these privileges helps me understand the disparities that exist and motivates me to advocate for those who may not have the same opportunities or platforms.

I’ve been reflecting on how privilege shapes nature interpretation. It’s made me see that while some people get to enjoy and defend the environment, others, often less fortunte, are left fighting an uphill battle just to protect what they love.

In places like Canada, nature is accessible to many—parks, hiking trails, and even environmental education programs are at our fingertips. But this access isn’t universal. Countries like those in the Amazon, which are rich in biodiversity, don’t always have the same privilege. The communities there cherish the land, but they don’t have the political or financial power to defend it against large corporations or wealthier nations. This imbalance in privilege is stark.

It’s hard to ignore the reality: those who have privilege often get to decide how nature is used or preserved, while those who don’t are left to deal with the consequences. Think about the Amazon rainforest, for example. Local communities are fighting to protect their homes from deforestation, but they’re often overpowered by the demands of wealthier countries. It's heartbreaking that those with the least resources are left to bear the brunt of environmental destruction, even though they have the strongest ties to the land.

This is where it hits me. As someone studying environmental management, I’m learning that we have a responsibility to acknowledge our privilege. We need to think about who gets left out of the conversation and how we can use our voices to support those who don’t have the same platform. Recognizing our advantages isn't about guil, it's about accountability. It’s about standing alongside those who are already working to protect the environment and amplifying their voices rather than overshadowing them.

Privilge plays a huge role in how we engage with nature and who gets to protect it. As interpreters, or even as people who care about the environment, it’s up to us to make sure that we’re not just enjoying nature for ourselves, but also thinking about how we can use our positions to create space for others who might not have the same opportunities.

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Blog Post 2

There’s something truly magical about sharing the hidden world beneath the waves. In my ideal role as an environmental interpreter, I picture myself guiding groups through aquariums and along the rugged coastal waters of Bonne Bay, offering visitors a deeper understanding of marine life and the incredible ecosystems that exist just below the surface. This role is quite specific because, when applying for co-op jobs for the summer, it was one of the positions that really excited me. Every time I thought about it, it brought me such joy. Unfortunately, I did not get the job, but it still comforts me to know that opportunities like this are available in my program.

(Image:https://bontours.ca/bonne-bay-water-shuttle/) This is where research center s located.

in this role, I imagine leading a variety of tours—from walking visitors through the bustling aquarium and research station to guiding them along tide pools with Parks Canada. Each experience would offer a unique opportunity to connect people with the wonders of marine life, from the tiniest starfish clinging to rocks to the vibrant communities of fish swimming in the depths.

My work wouldn’t just stop at guiding tours, though. I’d also take on the hands-on tasks that keep these ecosystems thriving—collecting and caring for marine organisms, maintaining the tanks, and feeding the diverse species that call the aquarium home. This balance between sharing knowledge with visitors and directly caring for marine life is what excites me most about this vision.

With on-site training to dive deep into the natural history of Bonne Bay, I’d have the chance to explore the local environment and gain firsthand experience with the creatures that make this region special. From field trips to collect specimens to learning the ins and outs of aquarium system maintenance, this role would not only challenge me but deepen my connection to the marine world I’m so passionate about.

One of my biggest strengths is connecting with people. After working in customer service for years, I’ve gotten really good at making sure people feel heard and understood. Whether I’m chatting with a group of curious kids at the aquarium or explaining marine life to visitors during a tour, I know how to break things down in a way that makes sense to different people.

I’ve also learned how to roll with the punches. Working in customer service taught me to think on my feet, so I’m great at adapting to unexpected situations. This is perfect for a role where every day is different, whether I’m leading a tour and need to change things up to keep people engaged or dealing with something unexpected, like the weather or a surprise question.

Plus, with my environmental science background, I’ve got the knowledge to back it all up. I’m always thinking about how to present info in a way that clicks with different learning styles, whether people learn best by listening, seeing, or doing. My goal is to create experiences that not only teach people but also make them care about the marine life and ecosystems we’re exploring together.

At the end of the day, my role as an environmental interpreter is about more than just sharing knowledge, it’s about inspiring action. I would love to inspire both young and old minds and ultimately be someone people remember. So whenever a topic similar to something I’ve shared comes up, I hope they picture me or hear my voice in their heads, not in a creepy way, but in an inspiring way :)

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Blog Post 1

My name is Farhiya Ahmed and I am in my thrid year of Environmental Management.

I never really understood my relationship with nature until I moved from my home country. Growing up, it was something I took for granted. My backyard was my go-to whenever I felt off or overwhelmed, but I didn’t realize how much it meant to me until I no longer had it. The transition to a new country was a big shift, and losing my safe space made it even harder. But, in a strange way, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise 🌱.

In Canada, my connection to nature has grown in ways I never thought possible. Back home, nature was about comfort—familiar spaces like my backyard or local parks. Here, it’s something completely different. Nature is vast, wild, and unpredictable. It’s not just a place to escape; it’s a place that pushes me out of my comfort zone and shows me new sides of myself I didn’t know were there. I never considered myself an adventurous person, but now, I’m excited to get out there and explore.

The person who helped me on this journey is my cousin Hanan. She’s lived in Canada her whole life, and when I told her I wanted to reconnect with nature here, she was all in. We begun with hikes, and let me tell you, our first one was an experience! Hanan swore it was an easy trail, but I managed to find the one spot of mud on the entire path and got my shoe completely stuck 😂. There I was, hopping around with one muddy sock, while Hanan was trying (and failing) not to laugh. We eventually got the shoe out (though it was never the same), and that day was full of little challenges like that. It was exhausting, but honestly? I loved every second of it. It was the first time I realized that nature wasn’t just calm and peaceful; it could be messy and unpredictable, but that’s what makes it so rewarding.

That’s when I started to develop what our textbook calls “a sense of place.” For me, it used to be my backyard—a small, safe space where I could retreat from the world. But now, I’m learning that nature is more than just a place of refuge. It’s a place of growth, where I can challenge myself, get a little lost (sometimes literally 😅), and come out the other side stronger. Every hike, every new trail I explore, makes me feel more connected to the world around me, and it’s an incredible feeling.

Nature is now something that challenges me, surprises me, and even teaches me. Instead of simply finding peace in familiar surroundings, I’ve learned to find peace in the unknown. This new relationship has made me more adventurous and more appreciative of the world around me. It's an evolving journey, and thanks to Hanan, I’ve come to see nature not only as a refuge but also as a source of personal growth.

And honestly, I can’t wait to share even more of these experiences with you through this blog! 🌍 I’ve got so many stories to tell, some of them are funny (like the time I nearly face-planted trying to cross a creek on a slippery log 😬), others are just filled with the beauty of nature that I want everyone to see. There’s something magical about being out in nature, even when things don’t go as planned. Sometimes, those moments are the best ones.

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This blog was created for ENVS 3000, University of Guelph. 

The opinions expressed here represent my own and not those of the University of Guelph. 

The University of Guelph is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by this blog.