Fecundity

When you come to think of it nature is pornographic, I mean you have the dragonflies constantly mating; flowers and trees forever pollenating, saying, "come hither and check out my stamen"; birds singing all through the day vying for the attention of a potential mate. As you tread deep into the woods, it is like walking down the halls of a hotel, because you know, somewhere, somehow, frogs are spawning, rabbits fornicating. The wilderness is alive, passions unchecked, decorum abandoned. Fauna and flora, critters and crawlers alike, all engaged in some sort of cosmic orgy to procreate, and sustain fecundity. The land is fertile my dear; it is a chaotic, it is loud, it is dirty, and it is deliciously filthy.