ON THE ROAD
By the toe of my boot, a pebble of quartz,
one drop of the earth’s milk, dirty and cold.
I held it to the light and could almost see through it into the grand explanation.
Put it back, something told me, put it back and keep walking.
—TED KOOSER, U.S. Poet Laureate,
Delights & Shadows

It’s remarkable the things people will tell you when they consider you a stranger. I suppose we all bring our preconceptions when we meet someone, assuming they think just like we do.


Recently I was invited to speak at a university in the Midwest on the topic of designing campuses and communities.The people who invited me were curious about some of the projects our firm had been involved with on the West Coast. They hoped to learn lessons they could apply locally.


It was February, and after arriving in the frigid subarctic temperature, I set about getting my bearings and willing my blood to thicken. In the three days leading up to my talk, a guide toured me around the university, the city, and the surrounding rural area. She was a wonderfully energetic and passionate biology professor, and she hoped my talk could be a catalyst for change in the community. Her commitment to protecting the earth was deep, and she longed for others to catch a vision of ways the community could be transformed into one that cared about “proper ecological stewardship.”


As we visited snow-covered parks and natural areas, the frozen winter air invading my lungs, I became aware of the shortcomings of my wardrobe. Hailing from the Pacific Northwest, I had Gore-Tex, but not enough woolen padding for the bright, crystalline world in which I found myself. We warmed ...