At the beginning of the semester, I remember sitting in class wondering why Dr. Williams was showing us these obscure poems and passages from some random man named Edward Abbey. They felt dusty, like old postcards from a desert I’d never stepped foot in. Poems filled with foreign words and out of place thoughts and frustration at the modern world. I didn’t get it. I didn’t see the connection. But now, months later, after working at the nature center and spending time immersed in the quiet rhythms of the land, Abbey’s words have taken root in a different way. His love for wild places, his distrust of development, and his sharp, unapologetic tone all started to echo in my own realizations. I’ve walked the trails with kids, cleaned out habitats, and watched the way people interact with the natural world. Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking about Abbey as a bitter outsider and started seeing him as someone who deeply cared so much that it hurt him to see nature overlooked or destr...