March 18, 2003 The Rapture View our accompanying slideshow (requires Flash player) Wildlife viewing (birding, butterflying, beetling) is fixated on the animate world. Yet nature is not limited to the sentient or mobile. The biota of an area, for example, is roughly fixed in place and time (admittedly plants do change seasonally). Geology is even more unyielding, with land formations perceptibly changing only rarely during a lifetime. What about the visible universe? Stars and planets are constant and predictable in their journeys, with the night sky only intermittently disturbed by comets, meteors, satellites, and such. As I have expanded my perspective of nature travel and recreation, I have embraced the natural world in its complexity. I care only how nature best attracts my fellow inhabitants of this planet out of their homes and into the outdoors. From Oolaroo to Hoatzins, from Sumidero Canyon to Sumichrast’s Wren, I am determined to use whatever tools are at my disposal to introduce my neighbors to the natural world. Here is an example. March in Texas is the season of dramatic weather. During this season cold fronts from the north collide with the warm, damp breezes from the Gulf of Mexico. These clashes are often marked by intense downpours, powerful winds, tornados, floods, and sunsets that remind me that I am here only briefly to witness the promise of nature. In mid-March, while returning from Baton Rouge to Austin, I stumbled into just such an event. After a final meeting in Houston I decided to travel the scenic route home. A cold front had passed the Texas coast around noon, dropping the temperatures in Houston from 79 to 55 degrees F. in less than thirty minutes. Tornado warnings were displayed along the interstate, and monsoonal rain brought traffic to a standstill. Yet before I left Houston the front had passed, and until I reached central Texas I enjoyed a refreshing Texas spring evening. Between Industry and Fayetteville, however, I began to notice a foreboding thunderstorm building to the west. There were few other clouds in the sky, so this ominous thunderhead floated in isolation along the horizon. As I neared the formation I noticed that both light and cloud were morphing and evolving in tandem. I pulled to the shoulder, grabbed my camera, and spent the next hour, alone, watching the event unfold. I admit that I am not a meteorologist. In fact, I struggle to recall the names of the most common clouds. But I do keep my eyes to the sky, and whatever the proper technical term I once again experienced the transformative power of nature (not exactly scientific, but it works for me). From a distance the thunderhead appeared as a characteristic anvil. But as I came closer I noticed a separate serpentine form snaking along its belly. At first coiled, this shape eventually stretched into a vivid laceration or wound. By sunset the wound had healed, replaced by a veil or curtain suspended from heaven. At dark I stood stunned, hoping to glimpse one more act before the curtains closed. A lifetime with nature often begins with an epiphany, a moment when nature peels back the mystery and reveals itself. These experiences are most frequently gained in situ, as when a kid, mud between the toes, first collects tadpolls in a Mason jar. Yet can’t weather be as revelatory as a bird or a bug? As Joesph Campbell said; "What we are all really seeking is an experience where we can feel the rapture of being alive." What could be more rapturous than standing along a roadside in central Texas as the heavens unfold? Trip du Jour, March 18, 2003 The Rapture by Ted Eubanks Fermata Home | Trip Du Jour Culture | Nature | History | Archives Subscribers Login | Subcribers Apply Lost Password? Fermata Inc. P.O. Box 5485 Austin, Texas 78763-5485 Office: (512) 472-0052 Fax: (512) 472-0057 E-mail: info@fermatainc.com Fermata, Inc. PO Box 148 Hampton, NY 12837-0148 Office 802 287 4284 FAX 802 287 4285 Please report any problems with the site to webmaster@fermatainc.com Site design by Ghostwriters Communications All content ©1999 - 2003 Fermata Inc. Photos ©Ted Eubanks and Seth Davidson