February 12, 2024
When I woke up this morning, it was raining. And when I went to bed, the rain was still pouring down. I got out of bed at 4:30 and made a hot coffee, contemplating on what to do with the weather. The property is beautiful when it rains.
While I was getting ready for work, I found out that yesterday was Super Bowl Sunday. It made me laugh because I am so out of touch with some parts of our culture. I don’t own a television anyway, and although I enjoy watching some sporting events, like the Olympics, I find the more mainstream sporting events boring. It’s basically asking me to commit several hours to be indoors somewhere watching the tube. Hard pass. I’d rather be outdoors, making my own memories.
The forest seems quiet during a gentle rain. I went into the woods this morning, hearing nothing but raindrops hitting branches and fallen leaves. It was a serene experience. Rounding a corner on the trail, a bird flushed, his wings beating so loudly that it made me flinch. Anyone who has ever heard a quail take flight while walking in a quiet field will relate.
As I walked down the trail, I heard the deep rumble of thunder rolling through the sky, its sound slowly fading. Although I was a couple of hundred yards from the creek, I could hear frogs croaking. Was this a sign of early spring? I stopped to listen, hearing the distant caws of crows and echoing honks from a flock of geese flying high above the forest. A woodpecker thumped on a tree, its cadence slow and methodical.
It was a relaxing morning walk. The gentle rain and calming sounds made my mind feel less busy. When I started work, my long list of tasks felt more manageable. One thing I’ve learned from living in the outdoors is that while nature never stops moving, she moves slowly. When we feel busy, rushed, or overwhelmed, that is an illusion happening inside our heads. If you step out into the woods, you will see calm, each moment of each day. When I feel the stress of my high-pressure job, then I try to back out of my head and feel the nature within me. Nature takes things slowly but never stops moving. And with this strategy, she created everything.
During my lunch break, I drove into Nash County to pick up some groceries for the week. When I arrived back at the house, I saw two large hawks, one perched in a tree and the other atop a fence post. These two hawks live in the trees just outside our house. I noted how big they’ve grown, looking to be almost two feet high. They are enormous. Their cry is a familiar sound around here, and I appreciate the free rodent control service they provide. We don’t need a barn cat. We’ve got a team of raptors constantly patrolling our airspace. These hawks always seem to be out during the rain. They sit stoically while the water pours all around. They know calm.
After work, I walked back into the woods. The raindrops were still hitting the trees and ground, while a few birds chirped in the distance. I was out in the woods again and confirmed things were still moving slow. One of my teachers in Japan used to tell me that life moves at sixty seconds per minute. How true. Aside from the raindrops and chirps, there were no other noises except for the wind blowing through the treetops, whooshing like quiet spirits moving through the trees. I took a deep breath and sat there for a long time.
As dusk turned into dark, frogs began croaking. At first there were maybe five or ten, but soon the entire creek area sounded with what must have been a hundred frogs, all singing in distinct tones and rhythms. Maybe it was the rain or slightly warmer temperatures, but this was the first recent night I heard this. Surely, winter is thawing into early spring. I recorded a quick video to capture the scene and sounds, sending it to my wife. Change is just around the corner.
I arrived back at the house, cold and wet. The firewood was wet, and the rain had picked up. I looked at the fire pit. It seemed empty; lonely. Sorry, nobody wants to build a fire with wet wood in the rain. Wait. Challenge accepted. Getting the first twigs to light was a real chore, but little by little, I got a two or three-inch flame to hold. With the steady hand of a Jenga champion, I slowly pulled and re-stacked kindling to get it to light. It was precarious and took some time, but the flame grew. After twenty minutes, I had a roaring fire. I stood there in the rain staring at it, wondering what I was going to eat for dinner. Just then, my wife called, and I went inside the house to talk to her, letting the fire burn itself out.
Today, nature’s lesson for me was about moving slower. More correctly, I am learning to take things at normal speed, which is often slower than they move inside my mind. I appreciate nature’s stillness. When I feel busy or that life is getting hectic, I will return to nature and move in time with her, whether in body or mind. And while nature moves slower than us, she always moves forward, never backward; never stopping. Today, nature revealed small signs of spring. Buds forming on trees; frogs singing. Slowing down helps us move forward, while speeding up knocks our train off the tracks. Stay calm; keep moving. This is nature’s way.