Outside.

I close my eyes, tip my head back, and smell. And listen. Pine trees and flowery fragrances fill my nose, tickling my senses, enticing me. I want to follow. Leaves rustling from whistling wind fill my ears, letting me escape from the reality that wraps around me every time I wake up. I want to stay.

Nature provides my escape. There are always new beauties to be discovered. And the old things are just as interesting to remember. Out here I gain a new sense of life—one that is slowly withering away with every new building, every new paved road.

We used to be worried about animals being endangered. Sometimes we ask ourselves, why are animals endangered exactly? Answers vary. Sometimes it’s because their food is leaving them. Sometimes it is because of the encroaching human population. Sometimes it is just because their lifestyles are changing, and they can’t keep up.

All of these are true, but with these answers, we miss the big answer—the one behind them all. After all, we can still ask, “Why is that happening?” The answer, my friends, is because something else is now endangered. Something far more severe. Far more frustrating. Something that won’t get solved, unless we try.

Vegetation is now endangered.

I stand on my deck. What was blackness before is now a row of lights. They are sparkling, beautiful, provoking curiosity. But they are the problem. What was blackness before provided the areas stars needed to shine. What was blackness before contained new discoveries to be made, but now contains new things to destroy.

Bushes. Weeds. Grasses. Trees. A sandbox. A tire horse-swing, tied between two trees. These are what lie in my backyard. There is enough space to escape the present reality and enjoy the past. But even with the pleasure it brings me, a small thought remains in the back of my mind:

Human society is not far away.