Where the Wild Things Grow: How Nature Heals
The trees right now have the tiniest, baby buds. The peonies are breaking ground by my deck and we have ants galore. The grass is getting greener, both on my side of the fence AND yours!
As it turns out, an ugly pandemic can't stop the exquisite procession of spring.
I take a moment today to not even try to collect or corral my thoughts. I just let them go. They are wild and unruly right now anyway. I don't fight it. I'm okay with it.
I turn down the volume of my thoughts with nature. I let the wind roaring through the trees rip my unease away. I let the smell of dirt and chill and the neighbor's bonfire soak into my skin. I look up at the sun rays beaming through the clouds and I feel the buzz of life envelop me, embrace me, soothe me.
I hover in a state of suspension, waiting for what nature will unwrap, never quite prepared for how it will astonish me.
An owl hooting somewhere just out of sight. A snail slithering almost underfoot. A super moon. A chipmunk darting just out of my cat's swiping paw. The sound of a rock skipping on partially frozen water. A beaver surprised mid-chew.
In the space of time it takes me to walk around a pond, a distance of perhaps a mile, I pass from being a woman/wife/mother [in a near frenzied state of stress with a long list of tasks for the day], to being a wanderer, an explorer, an adventurer with no concept of time or need for it.
The wildness of nature, it's precise and effortless habitats, it's perfect synchronicity, commands all my senses to comply.
Everything, for a split second, in complete and euphoric harmony.
Photos taken at Red Jacket Trail Park
Go discover the explorer in you.