It is on my porch with my dogs, where I get to sit and watch the sky turn, and the wind kick up the leaves from last fall, that I feel closest to nature. There's no shortage of wildlife here: birds, mammals, reptiles. Last fall, I saw a large bright green, winged insect fly by close to my head, it was so large, like nothing I've ever seen before. The curious child in me followed it to its landing place, ten feet ahead or so. It was a praying mantis. I was overcome with emotion, a species, once on the endangered, now sustained, right here in my field. And perhaps the symbolism of it overwhelmed me also, even though I know that these symbolic characteristics are human-given. Last summer, I was digging trenches around my eyes for french gutters when a small garden snake slithered out from under my wood siding, staying close to the foundation and out of the sun. I again out of sheer curiosity, followed it into its hole a little ways away (phew, I thought, just stay out of my house, and there won't be any problems!)
It is over my yard that the hawk glides, and the crows and blue jays squawk in their distinct ways. The woodpecker laughs, the doves mourn, and the mockingbird sings his myriad of songs. The squirrels chase each other, the chipmunk chips, and oh does he chip: for a little thing he is loud. My poplar tree loses its fluffy seeds and the wind disperses them everywhere. The sound of maple seeds ("helicopters") dropping.
The mosquitoes are innumerable around here, but I protect myself. When dusk is drawing near, I sit on my porch and squint in the setting darkness, watching the bats flittering about. Off my porch, in the middle of their pattern I sometimes stand unknowingly, then one flies by my head so close I hear its little, skeletal-like wings beat. They may not look beautiful in the human sense of the word, but I appreciate their purpose, and this purpose to me, makes them beautiful.
The beauty of nature astounds me, and it is here in my yard I get to see so much, not everything, but enough to fulfill my connection, to spark my curiosity, to endear my soul, and to appreciate, everything.
I think there's a lot to the idea that being in nature can mean something as simple as sitting in one place and trying to pay as much attention as possible to nature as it passes by your doorstep.
ReplyDeleteI think that sitting still allows us notice that which we might otherwise not see. There's something profound in stillness.
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