Field Notes: Summer 2025

Slow answers

I’m writing about how the hot, humid morning pulled Asha and me to the river …

about zigzagging between shallow water and dry islands in the riverbed, now green with plants
about Allegheny Monkey Flower’s purple-blue petals
about tracks in the mud and sand, telling of other visitors
about a crayfish exoskeleton floating among the rocks, and minnows swimming away from us
about Louisiana Waterthrush foraging in the shadows and Bank Swallows’ nests in the walled edges of the river channel

… when I’m interrupted by my inner critic, “What’s the point you’re trying to make? A list isn’t enough.”

I put down my pen and stare out the window, remembering the joy of the walk and feeling the desire to share — yet silenced by this question.

A day or two or three later, on another walk, answers come:

The point is slowing down.
The point is paying attention and becoming curious.
The point is noticing the beauty of this earth, this place and opening to the delight in the noticing.

And that’s not only more than enough, it’s essential.

Invocation and benediction

I came to the spillover sound of the brook
          needing to remember there is beauty in this world
          needing to feel grief and anger and fear move through me

Barefoot in the rock-cool of the purling flow
I saw Song Sparrow
          steadfast
          atop a swaying reed

You may also like:

Spring 2025 – A gathering of shiny acorns; Prescription; Why I was late; Once open, there’s no going back

Winter 2024/2025 – The taste of snow; The luminous middle; Old question, new answer; Breadcrumbs; Ice-crusted snow; Untitled (after reading Atticus)

Fall 2024 – No clues required; Every time the wind picks up; Postcards to the Woods #4: Moonrise at sunset; Texts and birds

Summer 2024 – Seen but not seen; Signs along the trail; With these quiet noticings