Entry #8-My Final Reflections

It's hard to believe this is my final "official" nature blog. The time went so fast and I feel a mixture of sadness and happiness to move on to the next step in my journey. This class, and this blog experience, really opened my eyes to a whole new way of writing. I always wanted to write a blog, and I definitely think I will continue some type of blog after this class. I think of a blog as a journal, and since I have a hundred journals mostly unfilled, I realize this is a perfect outlet for me. I may continue a blog of a different theme, such as just my daily experiences with life and trying to focus on a spiritual and positive state of mind throughout the day, in the easy moments and the hard ones. Well, let me move on to my last official experience of my favorite place.


Date: December 8, 2013
Time: 1:00PM
Weather: Snow flurries, cold



I walk down the path towards my favorite spot and take a seat on the bench, dusting the layer of snow off with my gloved hand. The bench is a little cold beneath me, but it feels refreshing. I feel like I just splashed cold water on my face in the morning to wipe the sleep out of my eyes. Winter is not my favorite season, as I love the sun and warmer temperatures (but not too hot), but the fresh, white, fluffy snow looks absolutely gorgeous on the bare branches of the trees. As fall progresses and the leaves change to beautiful hues, eventually the leaves fall to the ground, leaving bare branches. This part of fall is always a little depressing because the world looks barren, deserted, and lonely. Winter creeps in, and before we know it, the branches are no longer bare, but are covered with a beautiful coat of white snow, adding depth and character to an otherwise plain decor. Although a tree to me never is ordinary and plain, for it is innately extraordinary and beautiful, the snow just adds a little external beauty for our viewing pleasure.

What a severe yet master artist old Winter is.... No longer the canvas and the pigments, but the marble and the chisel. ~John Burroughs, "The Snow-Walkers," 1866


I glance around to see if my favorite friends are close by, and I spot them further down the path by the lake. At least ten of them lay on the snow covered grass at the edge of the cold, icy water. I don't blame them for not wanting to take a swim today, for the water is freezing. A few of them huddle close together, providing each other warmth. Once again, I feel grateful for the privilege and opportunity to observe these beautiful creatures in their natural habitat. I don't feel like an intruder, but a welcomed guest. A few of the ducks are adorned with a deep, velvety green color on their necks, which looks astoundingly beautiful and vibrant against the white snow. The green makes me think of Christmas, which is quickly approaching. I wish I knew more of what these ducks are thinking and what they are communicating when they call out. I guess there is really no way to know what thoughts a duck keeps. This is a mystery of nature.

I stay for about a half an hour, and get up to leave. It's really cold out here, especially by the water! I slowly walk up the path, pausing, to take a look at this special place. I feel a tear form in my eye, a tear of gratefulness and wonder, of this transformative place. I never imagined that I would cultivate such an intimate and comfortable relationship with this piece of nature. I know, whether in snow or sunshine, I have a place I can visit and just "be". I don't have to put on any fake facades and I can come as I am, and feel what I feel. This place is magic. Somehow it takes whatever I bring with me, any pain or sadness or fear, and makes me feel better, more at peace. I smile at the ducks and wish them peace and safety. I thank them for allowing me to be a part of their world, for befriending me. I know I will be back soon, so this is not the end. In fact, this is just the beginning.



Nature looks dead in winter because her life is gathered into her heart. She withers the plant down to the root that she may grow it up again fairer and stronger. She calls her family together within her inmost home to prepare them for being scattered abroad upon the face of the earth. ~Hugh Macmillan, "Rejuvenescence," The Ministry of Nature, 1871