When I say, "environment matters," I mean that the geography of a place can affect every aspect of a dweller’s life. When I moved to Arizona, I had no idea how profoundly my life and my body, my daily practices, and my ways of thinking about everything from water to distances would be changed.
I still remember the first morning I woke up in Arizona. We’d bought a house in the foothills of the McDowell Mountains, with a patio out back. I came out with my coffee and sat, mesmerized by the enormous inverted blue bowl of sky, and I swear something in my chest cracked open. (This photo is from Sunrise Trail, about twenty minutes from my house, taken one afternoon last year.)This is my point, I guess. What I can imagine, and how I perceive the world and myself in it, is profoundly determined by my physical landscape. Perhaps it’s not the same for everyone or everywhere, but Arizona, with its vast desert, hulking mountains, unusual climate, and strange beauty, has impressed itself upon me more strongly than anywhere else I’ve lived (including upstate New York, New York City, Ann Arbor, San Diego, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Milwaukee, and, briefly, London).
Living in Arizona, my children were outside every single day of their lives. In the fall, winter, and spring, we were at the park; in the summer, we were in the pool, rather than indoors for much of the winter, the way I was, growing up in Rochester NY, with dastardly winter temps. Because of Arizona, I’m scrupulously conscientious about hydrating; I always have a water bottle with me. I hike nearly every day. I’ve even lost my phobia about snakes (not that I don’t jump when I see one, but they’re just part of the landscape now). I also think nothing of a two-hour drive to Tucson to visit my son. And I believe I have a vaster sense of what is possible in my life generally, because every morning, from my hiking trail in the McDowells (photo, above), I can see for miles.
I don’t intend to tie everything back to my fascination with Victorian London, but the riparian environment is one of the things that compels my interest. Think about it – what would London be without the Thames? The river is the lifeblood of the city, as well as the repository for the city’s detritus. From the times of Londinium, the river determined virtually everything about the city.
When I wrote Down a Dark River, and made Inspector Corravan a former lighterman, I did it partly because I wanted to explore how the Thames and the land shaped each other, modes of travel, work, and experience, and people’s lives.
Many people don't realize the Thames is tidal –twice a day, the river changes direction from ebb to flow. This is why mud larking – aka scrounging in the dirt on the banks of the river, like these folks are near Blackfriars Bridge (Dec. 2022) -- is still a popular pursuit. The tide washes up treasures and trash alike. FYI - if you want to try mud larking, you can book a guided expedition, complete with waders and bucket, on Tripadvisor here: https://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g186338-d13998271-r946820248-Cultureseekers-London_England.html.
So here's a question for you: Of all the places you've lived, is there one that impressed itself upon you more than others, and, if so, why?
Excellent point that environment matters to us not only as writers but as people. Of the places I've lived for more than a year - Cape Town, Nairobi, Adelaide, Johannesburg and Knysna - Knysna with its superb estuary, natural forests, and small town feel is my favorite. I guess I'm not really a city person although I've lived most of my life in some highly livable cities.
ReplyDeleteSouth Africa is on my bucket list. My sister (an environmental lawyer) was there working for a year and I never made it over ... but thank you for sharing. Knysna sounds like my kind of place. I love forests.
DeleteMy prime environment is a semi-rain-forested mountain slope. The western side of the Pacific Northwest's Cascade mountains. Plenty of rain in the winter, snow on the peaks, keeps the evergreen forests GREEN and moist all summer long. We occasionally vacation on the eastern side, "high desert," and after a week, as we return over the pass back into the moist evergreen forests of the western side, I feel like I can breathe again without my lungs cracking, a chrysalis opening to renewed life. I can appreciate and admire desert and valley, ocean and lake, but give me a trail through a forest of towering old-growth Douglas Firs and I'm in nature's cathedral.
ReplyDeleteI get that! I spent some time a couple of years back in Olympic National Park hiking - it was stunning! We all loved it. My husband and I shift between Utah mountains and AZ desert and I love them both - they're both pretty dry - but I've come to think the shift back and forth is really productive, the change helps reboot me. :)
DeleteLove the blog, the personal touch works
ReplyDeleteKaren, you warrant a medal from the Arizona Chamber of Commerce. My introduction to AZ came via post-WWII issues of Arizona Highways Magazine that arrived like clockwork at my Pittsburgh home thanks to business acquaintances of my father based in AZ's produce growing regions I never actually made it there until I published through Scottsdale-based Poisoned Pen Press... and liked it so much that Barbara and I got married there. As for which of the places I've lived has impressed most upon me, I think the answer is (pick one) obvious: Pittsburgh, Washington PA, Boston, Manhattan, Long Island's NorthShore, Northwestern New Jersey, Mykonos and the Greek Isles.
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