Winter: Nature Journaling Week #20

Yikes. 3 weeks have gone by since I last journaled. Last time, I examined the differences one can see in 24 hours. Now, I can also see what a difference of 3 weeks does in winter.

Change.

On January 30, we had 9:53:37 of sunlight. Today, on February 21, we have 10:51:22. That’s almost another whole hour!! And it shows. Birds are starting to sing like it’s spring. It’s still light out as we set the table for dinner. And while there’s still a solid blanket of snow out there, it feels different.

I never journaled about my feelings on winter as I had about fall, so I decided today was the day- before I slip again and find myself in yet another season. I’ve been hiking quite regularly- I just haven’t recorded anything. So today, I have the opportunity to reflect. My entry is light on art and heavy on words.

A Promise.

Yesterday truly felt like a promise. Everything felt like it was alive. Sure, the rocks by the spring-fed stream were cold and in many cases snow-covered. But there were brilliant green watercress floating at the surface. There were robins mobbing us with their chipper calls. There were tracks EVERYWHERE- big and small, reminding us that although we might not see them, there were many life forms around us. 

My face became sun and wind-kissed. That fiery ball warms both organic and inorganic things, stirring us all to move.

Just BE.

I found myself stopping regularly along the trail. Stopping. I noted that in my journal because I find that to be more and more important the older I get. Regardless of the season, we do so much better by stopping. Looking. Listening. Feeling. Smelling. All the senses need an opportunity to feed us their vital information!

Textures, sounds, colors, and movement sink into our awareness the longer we stay open to it. It wasn’t until an hour into the walk that either of us noticed the half-moon high in that brilliant blue sky. We didn’t realize there was a huge squirrel nest in a nearby oak tree until we’d stopped to admire another mass of robins.

Friends.

Experiencing that trail yesterday was all the richer for the company of a friend. Whether in conversation or quiet, we can connect with “the other”- and that’s vital to our own living. We can start to realize “the other” isn’t so “other”. In mutual participation, we can capitalize on the combination of senses, thoughts, knowledge, and ideas. Sharing experiences binds both the place more closely to each of us and us to each other. Again, I was reminded yesterday that we are truly stronger and richer together amongst both our species and our environments.

My goal is to not let another 3 weeks slip by without journaling. I also wish you all time and opportunities taken to connect with our natural world and one another.