Volume 8 Issue 2 (Spring 2015)
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be
happiest.” ~Ernest Hemingway (A Moveable Feast)

Ice and Ides
~Bob Myers (LHU Director of Environmental Studies)
Late in the afternoon on Sunday, March 15th, I saw a Facebook post announcing that the
ice on the Susquehanna River had broken. I grew up on Water Street, but I can only
recall seeing the ice break once: four years ago, on February 19th (my birthday). This
winter the river seemed to freeze early,
and it seemed unlikely that it would
ever thaw, so I was anxious to see the
ice leave. Accordingly, my wife and I
quickly drove to the Woodward
Township Boat Park and joined the
crowd of people who were watching
the symbolic end of a long, difficult
winter.
The river itself was visible in narrow,
muddy brown channels along the bank. In between was a jumble of large slabs of
broken ice that were rushing past at a surprising speed (I later clocked them at about 5
mph). Scattered among the slabs were limbs of large trees that had been snapped off by
the power of the ice and water. On both sides of the river a wall of ice formed;
remnants of that wall are still evident two weeks later.
We walked onto Jay Street Bridge for a different perspective . Looking down at the ice
was disorienting—it almost made you feel as if you were falling into the river. I suspect
that this is the feeling of the “sublime” that early 19th-century nature writers described:
the feeling of awe at the power of nature/God. And there was no mistaking the power.

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 2

I’ve seen pictures of the ice floods, when
glacier like sheets of ice were thrown onto
Water street, destroying everything in their
path.

1918 Ice Flood. Lock Haven Express (July 28, 2011)

I was surprised by the number of people
that had gathered to watch the breakup. I
felt that such an event should be celebrated
with alcohol and large fires on the banks.
Had such arrangements existed, I probably
would have stayed all night, but it was cold,
so after about a half an hour we left.

Later that night I realized that the ice had broken on the Ides of March. As an English
professor, I knew that the Ides had something to do with Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar,
but I didn’t know much other than that one should be wary of it. A quick internet
search revealed that the Ides of March was an ancient Roman holiday that marked the
Roman new year and involved such renewal festivities as picnics, drinking, and revelry.
The Ides also became linked to the Roman Mamuralia, a festival marking the new year.
One of the main events of the Mamuralia involved dressing an old man in animal skins
and then beating him with white sticks and perhaps driving him from the city (the
sources disagree on this aspect of the ritual, but my guess is that few would remain
after such treatment).
I doubt that today we could get away with involving any of our seniors in Mamuralia
festivities. But I still feel that the end of the winter should be celebrated. I certainly
don’t hate winter and I make a point to get out as much as possible, but there’s just no
question that the return of the warm temperatures is welcomed by all of us. So happy
Spring, Mamuralia, Ides to all of you!
Briar Bush Nature Center: Abington’s Best Kept Secret
~Melissa Eldridge (LHU Alum and Briar Bush Public Programs Educator)
Briar Bush Nature Center, located in Abington, Pennsylvania, rests on 12.5 acres of
forested land and serves as an oasis and refuge for wildlife in the middle of suburbia.
People of all ages flock to Briar Bush for its beautiful landscape, peaceful environment,
and effortless ability to connect one with nature. However, Briar Bush did not have its
start as the beloved nature center it is today.
In 1908, newlyweds Everett and Florence Griscom moved to Abington and purchased
the property currently known as Briar Bush Nature Center. As an effort to combat
urban development, the property became a refuge for wildlife and residents alike. The
Griscoms welcomed Scout groups, school groups, and avid birders to their refuge while

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 3

sharing their knowledge and love of the outdoors. When the Griscoms passed in 1962,
residents of the area, led by T. Russell Frank, advocated for the protection of the
property from development by urging Abington Township to purchase the land. Their
strong efforts resulted in the purchase and preservation of the Griscom property. In
1974, township residents created a private non-profit group, The Friends of Briar Bush,
in order to meet educational and community objectives.
Today, Briar Bush Nature Center invites people of all ages to experience and explore the
wildlife refuge formerly owned by the Griscoms. Briar Bush honors the Griscoms by
fulfilling its mission: to provide environmental education to individuals and groups of
all ages through on-site and outreach experiences, protect and nurture a nature wildlife
habitat, and promote conservation of natural resources by increasing awareness and
understanding of the environment. Throughout the years, Briar Bush Nature Center has
become known as Abington’s Best Kept Secret.
During the summer of my junior year as a
Recreation Management student at Lock
Haven University, I searched for seasonal
positions at various nature centers in the
environmental education field. I wanted more
experience in this field since I aspired to
become an environmental educator after
graduation. While researching local nature
centers, I stumbled upon Briar Bush Nature
Center’s website. The Half-Day Summer
Camp Counselor announcement described
the exact experience I was looking for: creating and implementing environmental
education lessons for four and five year olds in a summer camp setting. I was offered
the position for the summer and it was one of the most experiential times of my life. I
learned many aspects of environmental education during orientation, while shadowing
educators in various programs, and through hands-on experience when camp began.
This experience verified my aspirations and interest in environmental education.
As a senior in Recreation Management, I was required to complete an internship for ten
weeks, working approximately 40 hours a week, while writing papers and completing a
special project for the agency. As students were searching for internships across the
country and globe, I knew that I could gain more of the experience I was looking for at
Briar Bush so I applied for the Full-Day Summer Camp Counselor position. That
summer, as the Full-Day Camp Counselor, I gained even more valuable experience that
included useful information for aspiring environmental educators, practice creating and
implementing lesson plans for six and seven year olds, and encountering struggles and
finding solutions. Throughout the summer, I created a proposal for the implementation

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 4

of a garden on the Center’s ground to be used for environmental education lessons for
groups and summer camp since I have a deep interest in gardening.
The summer was coming to a close and the Executive Director approached me to
suggest applying for the open full-time Public Programs Educator position offered at
Briar Bush. I was very eager to apply. I loved every aspect of Briar Bush: the staff, the
grounds and facilities, the programs, and the members of the community. Although I
was very eager and full of hope, I was also doubtful. As a recent college graduate, I felt
that I would not measure up to those who may be applying for the same position who
have more experience in the field of environmental education. During my interview, I
presented an activity that I would conduct for children aged six and seven. I thought
the interview went well, but again I was doubtful.
The next day, I showed up for camp and was again approached by the Executive
Director. She informed me that the staff had made a decision and they would like me to
join the Briar Bush team as Public Programs Educator. I was surprised, ecstatic, and
grateful to have landed a full-time position straight out of college, especially at an
organization I loved.
Since then, I have been working at Briar Bush Nature Center planning public programs,
conducting programs for people of all ages, developing new programs, updating
existing programs, and learning more valuable information as I go. It has been a
wonderful experience working for an organization that is dedicated to teaching people
of all ages about the natural world while fostering in them a love and appreciation for
it.
Thinking Better by Getting Greener: Using Attention Restoration to Improve Cognition
~Lynn A. Bruner (LHU Psychology Professor)
Have you ever noticed how tiring it can be to sit still and focus on one thing? You arise
from your chair after intensive work at your computer feeling both physically and
mentally depleted, wondering why you are so tired. It turns out that the screen and
desk time you’ve been putting in may be more strenuous than you imagine. In our
distraction-filled environments, the simple act of paying attention to the task in front of
us can be incredibly challenging. For instance, as I’m concentrating on typing these
words, many sounds are calling for my notice: voices in the hall, the constant whirr and
hum of the HVAC system, the occasional buzz from the smartphone I’ve forgotten to
silence. I see a notification come up at the bottom of my computer screen telling me I
have yet another e-mail, and out of the corners of my eyes I see the books, articles,
student papers, and folders haphazardly piled on my desk. Somewhere in the back of
my mind I also know that with a click of the mouse, I could escape this writing task,
whether to check Facebook, read that e-mail, or even do some online shopping.

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 5

Focusing my attention on only one activity is a fairly large order in these
circumstances: in fact, maintaining extended attention is what cognitive psychologists
refer to as a resource-intensive task, which is why it can seem so tiring. In 1892, early
American psychologist William James noted that what he called directed attention, the
kind of voluntary attention we use to attend to information that is essential but not
necessarily personally important to us, takes a lot of mental energy. In order to use
directed attention, we have to inhibit our impulses and control our responses to
distractions; thus, our capacity for directed attention is limited, because we get fatigued.
On the other hand, suggested James, there are occasions in which it is possible to pay
involuntary attention. That is, some things just fascinate us, and we can pay attention to
them for a long time without
putting forth much effort. For
instance, a mystery that presents
a problem to be solved or an
extreme experience can present
what James called “hard”
fascination: something that grabs
our attention and doesn’t let us
look away. Watching an exciting
athletic event or an action-filled
movie can be experiences of hard
fascination. The problem with
hard fascination is that it can also
grab hold of thoughts, as
something that is extreme, exciting, or mysterious makes it difficult to think about
anything else. However, James also described “soft” fascination: the extended attention
that’s possible when something captures our attention involuntarily, but doesn’t
interfere with other thoughts, offering us opportunities for reflection. Viewing a natural
environment, closely observing a bird or animal in the wild, or walking mindfully in a
green space can all be experiences of soft fascination.
Psychologist Stephen Kaplan expanded on James’ ideas with his theory of Attention
Restoration. Exploring the popular assumption that spending time in nature is
restorative, Kaplan suggested that that experiences of soft fascination in nature may be
providing a kind of cognitive reset for people experiencing directed attention fatigue. In
a 1995 article, “The Restorative Benefits of Nature,” Kaplan suggested “It is only in the
modern world that the split between the important and the interesting has become
extreme.” That is, most of us spend many hours completing tasks that we don’t
necessarily find personally interesting, and while doing so, we are bombarded by an
ever-expanding number of distractions. Thus, our overall levels of attention fatigue may
be growing. Kaplan suggests that for attention restoration to occur, we need to spend
time in restorative environments, which have four characteristics. They must be
fascinating in the soft sense: they must capture our attention without voluntary effort

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 6

being expended, but allow reflective thought. They must be “away,” or removed from
everyday activities and demands. Thus, a walk in a wooded area might be restorative,
whereas a walk down a busy street may not. They must have presence in time and
space, meaning that a restorative experience is not just momentary, but has what
Kaplan calls “extent.” Finally, restorative experiences must be compatible with one’s
current aims and goals. Thus, placing people in environments they don’t want to be in,
even if they are beautiful and serene, may not result in attention restoration.
Research on attention restoration has resulted in some interesting findings. Children
with ADHD long have been known to benefit from active physical play, which can help
to improve concentration on school tasks. When they play in green outdoor
environments rather than indoors, the effects on concentration are even greater. College
students who become cognitively exhausted doing a rapid-response puzzle task, take a
walk in a green area, and then return to the puzzles show improved performance as
compared to students who simply rest indoors or who take a walk through a busy
campus. Even findings on improved wound healing in hospital rooms with a view of
trees (as opposed to a view of a parking lot) have been discussed in terms of attention
restoration. Finally, limited levels of improvement in cognitive functioning have been
reported for research participants who could look at a poster of a green landscape, as
opposed to a poster of a cityscape or an abstract design; that is, the degree to which a
restorative environment is “away” can vary, but an experience that is more deeply
“away” may result in greater levels of attention restoration. In short, psychologists are
finding empirical evidence that positive feelings of increased alertness and overall wellbeing related to time spent in natural environments may be associated in part with the
renewal of depleted mental resources. It’s another great reason to get out from behind
your desk, to turn off screens, and to get outside. You might just improve your
concentration, increase your cognitive acuity, and renew your mind.
Frosty Apples
~Guy Graybill (Author of Prohibition's Prince )
Herewith, a verse;
Concise and terse:
In Wintry time,
My pomes all rime.

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 7

Nights in the Colby Narrows
~Jeffrey R. Frazier (Local Author—see: www.pafiresidetales.com)
When the sun starts to sink behind Big Kettle and Little Kettle Mountains at the western
edge of Colby Narrows, and as somber shadows start to settle along Fishing Creek, it
signals the beginning of another peaceful night in this ruggedly scenic spot to the north
of Sugar Valley, Clinton County. Only the numerous waterfalls of the ever-flowing
stream cascading over the rocks in the creek bed disturb the darkened forest, and in the
villages of Lamar, at the Centre County end of the Narrows, and Tylersville in Sugar
Valley at the Clinton County end of the narrows, mountain folks can settle down for
another night of peaceful rest. But in an earlier day a night of safe and uninterrupted
sleep was not always assured for the area’s pioneers; Colby Narrows, sometimes
referred to as Sugar Valley Narrows today, was then a place that was as wild as its
unspoiled landscape.
The dark defile is a picturesque place of natural beauty even today, but it has a history
that sometimes is as dark and foreboding as the gloomy blanket of night that makes it
an uninviting spot for lonely travelers, especially if they know about the murder of the
Colby Family, Isaiah and Nora, from whom the Narrows takes its name. The murders
of the Colbys on their forty-acre tract of land along Cherry Run on the eighth of August,
1887, caused a general panic throughout Clinton and neighboring counties until when,
about a week later, the murderer was identified and captured at Smith’s lumber camp
in Wood Hollow along the west branch of Pine creek to the north. Lute Shaffer strongly
proclaimed his innocence, but in December a jury found him guilty, and on April 4th,
1888, he was hanged from a gallows that had been erected in the jail yard at Lock
Haven. His gravesite can still be seen in the Catholic cemetery on Susquehanna avenue,
Lock Haven, where he presumably sleeps the sleep from which there is no awakening.
The murders must have given many people chills and nightmares, but no doubt many
of them were descendants of
sturdy pioneer stock who first
settled here and endured many
sleepless nights. Back in those
days the usual nighttime music
was the dismal and unnerving
howls of the numerous wolf packs
that once made this place their
home, but those melancholy cries
were also sometimes interrupted
by the unsettling and frightening
screams of mountain lions which
frequented this mountainous
region as well. Many of us today
Big Kettle Mountain along the Colby Narrows
would not have the courage to

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 8

coexist with these wild denizens of the forest, but people in those times did, and tales of
their harrowing encounters with and escapes from those animals would make
interesting reading today. Unfortunately most of those stories have been lost as older
generations have passed away, but a few can still be heard if the right person is found,
and following are a few that elder folks in the region still remember hearing from the
old folks of their younger days.
Probably the most ancient account can be traced all the way back to some of the first
families who settled in the Narrows, including that of Michael Bressler, who came here
as a single man in the earliest years of the nineteenth century. Eventually Michael met
and married the daughter of Henry Spangler, another early settler, and by the time
Anna Maria was twenty-two she was the mother of two boys and living in a log cabin
that Michael had constructed near a copious spring on the uppermost heights of Big
Kettle Mountain, which forms the westernmost boundary of the Narrows. The rustic
place was not a mansion since it had a dirt floor and oil cloths for window panes, but it
was home and a place of safety.
The family was prosperous enough to own a cow and other livestock, but they had to
be continually on their guard to protect their animals from the wolves and mountain
lions who still could be heard here every night. These noisy neighbors could, when
driven by hunger, be more than just an annoyance at times, and even up until the time
of her death in 1886 at age 86, Anna May, as she was sometime called, was fond of
telling people just how dangerous they could be, recalling how one night in 1824 she
had to deal with one such intruder on her own.
Although she must have been terrified at the time the incident occurred, the strongwilled lady did not lack the courage it took to defend herself and her family from an
intimidating predator. On this particular occasion the young mother was alone in the
cabin with her children, and the fact that her husband was away made the nearby
screams of a mountain lion, often called panthers or painters by the mountain folks,
seem that much more worrisome, especially since the family cow was tied up to a tree
in back of the cabin that night. The familiar noise was no different than the screams of
other panthers that made their presence known on the mountaintop every evening after
darkness fell, but in this case the beast seemed to be closer than any had ever gotten
before.
The accounts seem to vary as to what exactly happened next that night, with oral
accounts handed down to Anna May’s descendants differing from an account recorded
in an 1884 newspaper article written by a reporter who interviewed her two years
before she died. But the oral history recalled to me in 2014 by her great-great grandson
recollects that in order to scare away the mountain lion the brave pioneer lady picked
up a metal dishpan and pounded on its bottom with a wooden spoon to make as much
noise as she could. Her ploy, says that oral history, succeeded in driving the big cat

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 9

away and keeping it away until the frightened lady’s husband came home. But perhaps
that account was a memory of how the young lady scared away the beasts on many
different occasions since the newspaper account has many more details concerning the
night of the endangered cow.
This account notes that Anna May had even more reason for concern on that night, not
only because she was alone there with her children but because the cow had gotten
loose. According to this version, she could hear the sound of the cow’s bell growing
fainter and fainter, and then she heard the panther scream. Since the cow was the
source of the family’s milk and butter she knew she had to do something, and so in an
act of desperation she lit a torch to find her way through the pitch black woods and also
picked up a chain with which to lead the cow back home if she could catch it.
The brave woman took off running, following the sound of the bell that was dangling
from the cow’s neck. She managed to catch up to it, and, wrapping her chain around its
horns, led it back to the cabin where she re-tied it securely to the same tree. But her
anxiety was then rekindled when she realized that the panther had followed her back
and was screaming close by once again from the depths of the nearby woods.
Not one to be so easily mocked, the fearless mother grabbed her torch and walked up to
the outside wood pile where she picked up an axe that was embedded there.
Brandishing her torch and shouting fiercely, the feisty woman took some ferocious
swings with her axe to chop into some of the wood pile’s logs. The exercise not only
relieved her stress but also kept her and her children safe. The panther, apparently
intimidated by the racket, slinked off into the woods, and Anna May and her children
slept soundly and safely through the rest of the night. But the next morning the danger
resurfaced once again.
Never dreaming a nocturnal beast like the panther would still be around the next
morning, Anna May made a hearty breakfast for her children, and when they were
finished eating she asked her oldest son Emanuel to lead the cow down to their nearby
pasture to graze. The obedient son did as he was told, but he had not been gone long
before his mother saw the dark shape of the panther dart past a cabin window, heading
in the same direction as her son. Once again she grabbed her trusty ax and ran after the
big cat, no doubt in a panic. But when she breathlessly arrived at the pasture she met a
welcome sight. There she found her son being led back home by his father, who was
holding the boy’s hand in his. The cow was following along behind, calmly chewing its
cud.
Anna May Bressler’s truthfulness about the prevalence and boldness of mountain lions
in the Colby Narrows in her time is confirmed by yet another oral historical account
that was related to us in 2014 by a ninety-four year old native of that same area who
heard the story from his father. The incident, which was said to have happened about
1820, supposedly occurred near the bridge that spans Cherry Run in the Narrows today.

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 10

It seems that during those days there was a large marketplace in Lock Haven where
local farmers could take their meats to sell at butchering time in the fall of the year.
Two men in particular were regular haulers, but they had had a frightening experience
in the Narrows when a group of wild cats, smelling the freshly-butchered meat, tried to
jump on the wagon to get it. The men successfully fended off the cats, but took to
carrying stout clubs with them on their butcher wagon after that.
Then one fall day some years later, they had loaded their wagon with hams and other
“butcher meat” and were driving through the Narrows again. They were no doubt
enjoying the fall colors and crisp mountain air, which may have lulled them into a sense
of euphoria and caused them to let down their guard, but when a group of six panthers
of mixed size rushed at them from the mountainside they once again, using the heavy
cudgels they were carrying, fought off the attackers. However, it’s said that after this
attack the men “beefed” up their defenses by carrying muskets on their butcher wagon
trips.
The same old gentleman who was the source of the previous panther tale also tells of
how bold wolves could be in this locale during that same era. He places the time of the
episode as about 1840, and says it occurred one moonlit night near Michael Bressler’s
alpine cabin. Here, says the old man, lived a family whose names have been lost over
time but who tended a flock of sheep that provided mutton as a source of food and of
wool that could be woven into homespun clothing. These mountain folks also lived in a
log cabin, but in addition to this humble abode they had constructed a log barn in
which they housed their sheep when they weren’t out to pasture in a mountainside
meadow. They also kept two large hounds or sheep dogs in the barn with the sheep,
turning them out with their flock to protect it from the nightly wolf attacks they knew
were sure to occur.
The dogs proved their value night after night, intimidating the wolf marauders
whenever their glowing eyes appeared in the murky shadows of the surrounding
forest. But then one afternoon when the sheep were led from the barn to the pasture,
one of the dogs was inadvertently left behind in the barn, leaving only one dog to guard
the innocent lambs in the meadow. The wolves, sensing the lack of defenses that night,
boldly attacked the lone sheep dog and the sheep, and the constant and abnormally
loud clatter of the bells around the necks of the sheep awakened the family.
The shepherds got to their flock when the wolves were still there, and in the moonlight
they could discern a scene of carnage. Six large grey wolves had attacked the sheep,
killing them all, but the wolf pack cowardly slinked away when the humans appeared.
Their attack had been so vicious that one sheep was torn in two by the voracious pack,
and, to add insult to injury, they also had torn apart the faithful sheep dog that had
valiantly tried to guard the flock on its own.

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 11

It’s said that the spring near where the Bressler cabin once stood, and which the
Bressler’s and their neighbors relied upon as a water source, can still be found on the
Big Kettle Mountain above Colby Narrows today. But all traces of any of the original
homesteads and barns there have disappeared over the years, much like those who
remember the thrilling episodes of nightly panther and wolf encounters experienced by
the early pioneers of Sugar Valley and the surrounding mountains. It can be argued
that we’re all poorer because of that lost connection to the past, and anyone who enjoys
the tales of the long ago should be grateful for these few episodes that were saved from
oblivion at the “eleventh hour”.
Two Poems
~Susan Rimby (LHU Dean of the College of Liberal Arts & Education)
Susquehanna Sunrise
Salmon, cotton clouds
Gold sun behind the island
Slate river looks cold

Susquehanna Sunset
The sky blushed pale rose.
The moon dripped its silvery
Glaze on the river.

Photo by John F. Katz

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 12

Local Hike: The Lock Haven Boulder Field
~Jon Roland (LHU History major)
The local hike to the Boulder field (sometimes called the skiing rabbit or Snoopy on
Skis) is one of those hikes full of the unexpected because of the slopes and grades. One
minute you’re going straight up a slope and the next you are going downhill, trying to
climb over unstable rocks and fallen trees. It is a hike that contains enough giant rocks
and slippery moss that good balance is a necessity. Having a guide who knows the
general direction is a good idea because of the various trails and ribbons that can make
the hiking trail turn into a maze.
Getting to the trail is only a 9
mile drive. Start at Lock Haven
University and drive east on
Water Street. At the
Courthouse, take a right on Jay
Street and go about one mile,
past the Route 220 ramps until
you get to Castanea. In
Castanea, Jay Street turns into
Jarrett Ave. Turn Left onto
Brown Street and follow it until
it ends; then turn right and then
left to go onto Keller Street.
Continue to Youngdale Road
until you see a pull off in the
road which is next to a steep trail. Park and get ready for a fun, but challenging hike.
The trail goes up for about a half mile or so and then splits. To get to the boulder field
you must take a left. Sometimes the trail will become inconspicuous so you must trust
your senses to detect the trail after climbing around fallen trees or walking on top of big
rocks. Do not get distracted by the survey ribbons. There are lots of curves and
elevations changes as well. Eventually you will reach the boulder field.
Understanding the wildlife on this trail is important. Be extremely careful of
Rattlesnakes especially between June and September. If you find yourself on the
boulder ridge hearing lots of hissing and rattling, just stomp on the big rocks as hard as
you can to let them know you are around and they will slither away. If you do not
startle them, you will not get bitten.
After a hike on this trail you will gain a new appreciation for the Allegheny Mountains.

The Hemlock 8.2 (Spring 2015), page 13

Environmental Focus Group
Bob Myers (Chair), Md. Khalequzzaman, Lenny Long, Jeff Walsh, Lee Putt, Ralph
Harnishfeger, Barrie Overton, Todd Nesbitt, Sharon Stringer, Jamie Walker, Steve
Guthrie, John Reid, Lynn Bruner, Elisabeth Lynch, Kevin Hamilton, Keith Roush, Steve
Seiler, Elizabeth Gruber, Joby Topper, Ray Steele, Michael McSkimming, Mark Jones,
Adam Nothstein, Susan Rimby, Stephen Neun, and Scott Carnicom. The committee is
charged with promoting and supporting activities, experiences, and structures that
encourage students, faculty, and staff to develop a stronger sense of place for Lock
Haven University and central Pennsylvania. Such a sense of place involves a
stewardship of natural resources (environmentalism), meaningful outdoor experiences,
and appreciation for the heritage of the region.