A Reflection on My First Summer in the Sierra

Muir displays an obvious connection with nature in My Fist Summer in the Sierra that goes beyond mere personification or appreciation of nature. His descriptions sway to and fro between that of a theologian and a talented naturalist poet. In “North Fork of the Merced,” June 14, Muir describes an area once ravaged by floods as covered by “the testimony of trees growing on flood boulder deposits” (48). Eventually the effects of the flood “came to awaken everything movable to go swirling and dancing on wonderful journeys” (48). Furthermore, he describes the area as “holy [and] where one might hope to see God” (49). Such a passage, though brief, displays a connection with the Biblical story of the flooding of the earth by God. The force of the flood from the Merced caused not only destruction but also a catharsis for nature. Muir does not mention a rainbow but the trees are quite capable of delivering a testimony in the wind.

Muir’s experiences capture feelings and emotions with grandiose and palpable dialogue when he describes his experiences with the nearby pines. He is struck by a “throbbing, thrilling, overflowing [sensation where] the gods of the planet kingdom, living their sublime century, live in the sight of Heaven” (52). The trees are, according to Muir, “our inheritance” which almost leaves him paralyzed with joy and grandeur. Muir parallels his descriptions of nature with the sublime. Cosgrove, in “Sublime Nature: Landscape and Industrial Capitalism,” observes that “holy fear, majesty, exultation are the adjectives of the sublime” (226). The discussion of inheritance and the implied notion of paralysis at the hands of nature lead to yet another Biblical implication of humans as sheep. Sheep, described as gentle but hungry, move about the landscape while devouring every plant in sight and get away from Muir. After gorging, the sheep soon return to him. Muir observers that sheep, like people, having escaped restraint “were afraid of their freedom and did not know what to do with it, and seemed glad to get back into the old familiar bondage” (57). This metaphor seems infused with both aspects of nature and individual enlightenment. Natural spaces, such as Yosemite, provide a place for reflection and contemplation of life away from the bustle of the city. Yet this exposure to beauty and the sublime soon give way to a “freedom” that individuals cannot or will not process. Muir suggests individuals need the bondage of routine localized in activities away from the captivating features of nature to function in everyday life.  Furthermore, it seems Muir acts as a naturalist poet for the common individual. He unlocks a brief glimpse into the sublime that was previously rooted only in classic works of literature that might be described as “erudite and elitist [and] hardly attainable by ordinary mortals” (Cosgrove 226).

Overall, Muir does well in blending the aspects of nature, spirituality, and the sublime by writing an account which is both accessible and relatable even to city dwellers. He both engages with the complex expression of the sublime while not alienating those unfamiliar with the like of Dante, Homer, or Milton.