Tension In Nature

Tension in nature exists in many different ways. I can feel it in the transitional time when the seasons are changing or in the heavy stillness before a thunderstorm. Sometimes I’m made aware of it in a subtle way, like when raindrops, sprinkling on a pond, pierce the surface of the water. Interesting that those reaching ripples are created by something breaking, but as they travel across to the edge of the bank, they have the power to change what is in their path.

You can witness tension in the interactions between wildlife, due to the instinctive urge to defend a territory, a nest, a mate, their young or their own lives – like a face off between a coyote and mother bear, or a rabbit still as stone beneath the soaring shadow of a red-tailed hawk. You can feel it too in the immediate silence of the Spring peeper frogs when they somehow sense your presence – it’s like they’re holding their breath.

I can see tension in the tight buds of early Spring wildflowers and in the strong spider webs that capture unsuspecting creatures on the wing. Sometimes tension is dangerous and best left alone, like in the sourwood tree that was trapped under the heavier weight of a fallen pine. Held taut like a giant rubber band, if released the sharp whiplash could be deadly. No chainsaw here. This tree will continue to bend and adapt and grow, always seeking the stronger light above the canopy.

Not always a negative thing, this “tension.” Sometimes it precipitates change which encourages growth. Sometimes it’s a necessary part of survival in a fallen world. Sometimes it creates challenges which make us stronger, more flexible and hopefully wiser.

by Joy Hopkins, Blackberry Farm Adventure Manager