I cannot afford to live without the daily routine of noticing nature. I need to see the sparkling frost that rims the sycamore leaves on the forest floor. I need to hear the rhythmic, thumping calls of the Red-bellied Woodpecker in the morning. I need to feel the cold air sting my face as I walk out the door. I need to smell the algal odors that rise from the burbling river.
Nature, the everyday wild, calls us back to the nuance of our inner landscape. I can be ebullient like a rocky stream or reflective like a placid stretch of river. I can be as durable as metamorphic rock and as resilient as the Resurrection Fern greening after the spring rains. I can explore the world like a Sandhill Crane on the wing or stay put like a Worm Snake in the garden mulch. Within the confines of human form and function, the possibilities for thriving are incomprehensibly innumerable.
The sun shines brightly, glinting off the slow-moving, mirror-like river. A kingfisher, bold and belted, arcs toward me, comes in close, and zips downstream. The Carolina Wren churs with metronomic regularity and the Downy Woodpecker rattles. It is time to leave, time to carry the day’s lessons from the wild into my human community, time to flow and flourish.
Sense of Place 