As much as my restless water spirit loves a good wander, some days I long to be like a tree with my feet firmly planted at home. I currently work across the state line and drive an hour each way. And I am a teacher. And it is May. The days are long, to say the least. These are the days I am not seeking adventure. I am simply longing for home. I do not need my evenings and weekends stamped with Instagram-worthy moments. I am not looking for more stimulation. I am not looking to find myself in the wilderness. I am looking to be rooted and still. Less is more.
Less, it turns out, is full of wild and rich moments. Full of connection to my place.
On the days I pull into my driveway feeling the burdens of life heavy on my shoulders I still need to breathe in the fresh air and the peace of nature. I need to regulate my chaotic mind. I have a few favorite hikes for that but they all require a drive and these are the days driving is not on the agenda. So I head over to the country road within a mile of my house. Less car time is more foot time. I can manage a long, lazy farm walk steeped in local wildness. My eyes settle on the vast expanses of tall meadow grass and the rolling horizon lines until my mind syncs with the calm.
These meadows and forests are ripe with life. One recent May evening, I counted 30 bird species passing through or nesting. I watched a flock of cedar waxwings in synchronized flights from tree to tree. I listened to the tinkling of grasshopper sparrows and the songs of a meadowlarks. I found myself filled with joy that they had a safe place to nest. I laughed as a mockingbird did a poor imitation of a kingfisher. I listened to the soft layer of cricket songs blanketing the fields and the barking of the frogs emerging from the cattails.
And somehow my burdens slipped away into that sea of tall grass behind the lichen-covered locust posts.
On the evenings I come home utterly exhausted porch time is my big adventure. Last week, emotionally and mentally spent, all I could do was lie down on my porch swing and doze. I was awakened by Carolina wrens berating some mysterious enemy. I listened until the chastising became so intense, I had to inspect the scene. I stood underneath the oak tree in my front yard and watched as the alarm called in several species of birds, including a vivid yellow and black hooded warbler within 2 arms’ length of me. I returned to my porch swing and spent the next 30 minutes watching male and female summer tanagers playing flirtatious courtship games in the canopy. I could not have paid for a better bird show that evening. And I did not even have to leave my front yard.
When the weekend arrived staying close to home still sounded like the best plan. Rain was in the forecast for the afternoon so I chose a walk in town.
We have an urban greenway trail that runs directly from our small town into the heart of the big city. It is a nice place to walk and if the weather shifted, I could easily return to my car. I was surrounded by green, the scent of honeysuckle and rain, and the many birds who had also found a ribbon of forest to make a home within. Because of all the recent rains, the gray day was bursting forth with the color of lichens and fungi. I felt comforted and surrounded by this wildness in the middle of town.
We think of wild spaces as destinations: state parks, national parks, hiking trails, lakes, and rivers. We long to spend more time in ‘nature’ but can feel limited by time, resources, or transportation. Wilderness is calling, but we have to send our regrets. Yet if we open our eyes to it, we can always find the wild close to home. Our yards, our neighborhoods, and our towns are all places the wild wants to come live among us. And it may be that we need to create those spaces to welcome the wild.
Fortunately, for now, my home has trees around it, my neighborhood has farms and my town has a greenway trail. All of this buffers my soul, increases my mental health, and calms me when I am chaotic. Being close to wildness does not require a tremendous footprint or a 3-day adventure budget. We must continue to protect these spaces, to build them into every community. Everybody should have the opportunity to walk on a local greenway, see a bird from their front porch, and have a local meadow they can stand beside to watch the tall grasses wave their troubles goodbye. All these spaces are vital to us, to the birds, the insects, and the trees. Let’s keep making spaces for the wild close to home. We need our wild community and it needs us.
Yes.
Beautiful & so honest.