Twelve Months with Nature
At the start of May 2024, I began a practice of sitting quietly on a stump, observing nature in our wild apple orchard from one to five times a week and writing down what I saw. My goal at the start of this project was to learn what birds were present on our land and to practice mindfulness, bringing my focus to the present moment. What I got for my efforts were these things and so much more.
I learned many species of birds by sight and sound: blue Jays, robins, cardinals, chickadees, wrens, many types of wood peckers, common yellow throats, gross beaks, etc. I learned when they came for the summer and when they left for winter. When they raised their young and when those young moved out on their own. I learned which birds stay the winter and how some of them, such as robins, changed their habits during the winter. I was surprised that many robins overwinter in our region but change their behavior. This gregarious bird of the warm months becomes meek and mild. They spend the winter quietly eating the seeds and fruits left from autumn as opposed to the earthworms from their territories they noisily protect during the warm months.
I did not expect to learn about the plants that grow among the apple trees. I witnessed when the many varieties of plants sprout, flower and die. What plants stay green all year. Which plants the deer and squirrels avoid browsing until there is nothing else to eat in February/March of a long cold, snowy winter. One day in February, I trudged through the snow to my sit spot to find much of the bark of the brush stems and low tree branches chewed away.
I did not expect close encounters with mice, squirrels, and deer. Once in May a mouse was foraging in the grass and wandered by my feet. In July a doe and her fawn were startled when they walked out of their sleeping spot in the goldenrod to see me watching them 20 feet away. Then in September a black squirrel was hopping from tree to tree and was surprised to look down and see me directly below him looking up. I have had rabbits and woodchucks peacefully grazing on greens on the other side of the small brook near where I sit. On many of these encounters, I would be able look into the eyes of a startled animal as they sized up the threat I posed. It was clear to me that there was intelligence and emotion in those eyes. I look back on these interactions with gratitude for the humility it taught me.
One special gift I received on rare occasions was the gift of silence. These tended to happen early in the morning, when the snow was falling. I would sit and hear no sounds from human machines or farm animals. Just silence. What a rarity these days!
However, the best silence I observed was in my head. I finally started to learn the skill of blocking out the world and turning off the stories: the worries, to-do-lists, and stresses of daily life. In other words, I began the journey of learning mindfulness. The peace I felt was so relaxing and rejuvenating each time, it left me anticipating the next time I could go back and sit again.
People say that praying is asking but mediation is listening. I always thought I understood praying as asking for what I needed but I never really understood listening. While I felt like there was a message for me, I never knew how to listen for it. Now, I am starting to understand. After I sit in nature, it is like seeing my life from a different perspective, one where the rushed pace of society is removed. I like the vision of approaching life as a humble wanderer just trying to learn all I can about the world around me. This may also be due to growing older and hearing a small voice in the back of my mind tell me that ambition is not all it is cracked up to be. However, I am convinced that it took the quiet of my time in nature for me to hear that voice.
It is now clear to me why Jesus and so many other prophets spent so much time in the wilderness. They were praying true, but more importantly, they were listening.