After a long workday—and I mean long, I decided to enjoy the gift of nature, so I took myself to a river in some local woods, a favorite spot of mine. I was after a moment of stillness by the water. I needed to let go of work and embrace the wild world in the woods.
It was an unseasonably warm late-winter day. The temperature was in the 70s—unusual for this time of year, but March is a month of roller-coaster weather in Minnesota. Warm. Cold. Snowy. Rainy. The days ahead were going to be cooler and I wanted to take advantage of the warmth.
My brain was buzzing from doing so much work, and I knew exactly what I needed: street relief in nature and time in the woods, time staring mindlessly at the river. Nature—what a fantastic gift! It does so much for my brain and my body, and for that, I am exceedingly grateful. I frequently take work breaks in nature.
When I got to the river, I found a dry spot to sit and relax. I watched eight mallards paddle through the water. Eight. It reminded me of me and my siblings. I’m the seventh of eight, and I have many fond memories of spending time in the woods and on the waters of Minnesota with them. I still see some of them regularly, others less frequently, but they are part of who I am—just as nature is part of who I am.
Both of them—my siblings and nature—have provided me with a rich history. Not trouble-free, of course. I’m no different from other humans in that way. But there’s so much I can look back on and appreciate, so much I can look back on and give thanks for—things that have molded me, people that have molded me, influences that have shaped my life and contributed to who I am today.
Weary to the bone, I decided to recline on the bank of the river for a while and watch the sky. It was pleasant, and the sun was sinking beneath the treetops. I listened to the wind moving through the woods and wondered where it was going. Some of the ducks were quacking. Suddenly, they started taking off from the river, and I sat up to watch them fly. I noticed two boys upstream a bit. They were goofing around on the bank and casting a line into the water. It didn’t look like they were trying to do any serious fishing—just having fun. They must’ve scared the ducks off.
While I had been enjoying the ducks paddling around in the water, I also enjoyed watching them fly, quacking all the way.
The sun was casting beautiful, sparkly spots of light on the water’s surface. There were ripples and sparkles all around a rock that was sticking up and out of the water, directly in front of me. It was mesmerizing, and I realized the workweek was slipping away from me—down the bank and into the water. It was as if all the busyness of recent days flowed downstream with the river. It felt lovely.
I lingered near the river for a long time. I thought about how I could never grow tired of the woods or the water. I am blessed to live in a state that offers an abundance of both. As I watched a solitary leaf float downstream, my mind returned once again to my childhood. Water was a great source of fun for my siblings and me. We used to race things like leaves and sticks in the water. And if there wasn’t a river or a stream nearby, we would go outside after the rain and race things along the curb on the road, where the water gathered and ran into the gutters. I don’t remember if my stick—or whatever object I was using—was ever the winner. I just remember it was entertaining and a fun way to pass the time.
After the leaf was out of sight, I looked across the river and saw a downy feather being pulled up into the wind—probably from one of the ducks. It flew up and away and reminded me I still had things to do before the sun went down. I had two dogs to walk, and it didn’t feel like a chore. I got up and headed for home.
I thought about when I would be back to the river. I said goodbye and left.
My favorite season is approaching—spring. It is the season that conquers death, when all of life seems to burst forth as the snow and ice melt. Maybe those mallards would have some ducklings on the river, and I would be lucky enough to watch them grow up. Who knows what the next season holds? Of course, God knows, but so far, He hasn’t clued me in beyond the usual pattern of things.
Spring.
Life renewed.
Growth.
Soon enough, the woods will be teeming with baby animals, flowers, and wonderful smells.
For now, I will enjoy what is—and all that nature has to offer me in the moment.
After returning home, I walked the dogs. I did so one at a time since one—Eli—is a big, unruly Lab. The other, my sweet Lacey, was second. She is an obedient dog. (My favorite kind!)
I walked the Lab to a local park where there’s a pond. There were geese and ducks on the ice or swimming around the edges where the water was open.
I was thrilled to see the first red-winged blackbird of the season—a sure sign of shifting wildlife in Minnesota!
The unruly dog was less annoying since I had yet more critter encounters—a nice way to top off my busy week.
I’m glad I have work to keep me busy and my brain working hard. But I’m even more grateful that I have nature to soothe my mind and remind me, as always, that there is so much more to life than work. There are woods and rivers, ducks, geese, and migrating birds.
What a wonderful world our Creator has gifted us with. I, for one, am going to enjoy it as often as I can.
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