Let’s take a walk. Grab a jacket and a good pair of mud boots because it’s a little messy out there. You might even want a stocking hat and gloves. The temperatures are warm for February, but a good breeze can still send you home chilled to the bone. If you have a small backpack, bring it along to carry a bottle of water and a light snack. I recommend a granola bar, nuts, or fruit. If you like, a walking stick is helpful, especially in the slippery terrain you may encounter.

Okay, ready? Now close your eyes and take a deep breathe in, hold it…and release. Let’s go. The first thing you might notice as we enter the trail head is that you’re going to need to be present. The trail is uneven and covered with last fall’s leaves. The recent snow has melted leaving things a tad squishy. You’re surrounded by trees in various sizes and differing stages of life. The temperature is slightly cooler, and it feels a bit damp. You’re glad you brought the hat and gloves.

After walking several hundred yards you cannot help but inhale a little more deeply. What is that? That smell? It’s a little musty but not unpleasant, earthy. Soil! Isn’t it delightful? Now, just allow yourself to take it all in. First the sound of your own steps, muted by the soft ground. Off in the trees…rat-a-tat-rat-a-tat…drrrrrrr, the steady sure beat of a red-headed woodpecker looking for a mate. Above you a slight breeze sends tree tops swaying and their trunks groan and creak. Your presence alerts a tiny cluster of chickadees, and they scatter away in a flurry of chattery tweets.

Rounding a long curve the trail takes a steady decline and you’re forced to slow down picking your away around upheaved tree roots and large stones. The underbrush is slightly thicker here enclosing the trail into a branchy tunnel. A bustle of activity seems to be happening just beyond and if you look closely, you might catch a glimpse of brilliant red cardinals darting and weaving through the branches so quickly, you’d swear they were ninjas.

The tunnel suddenly clears as the trail takes a deep descent and if you didn’t bring a walking stick, you’re grateful to the scattered tree trunks and their roots for extra support. As the trail evens back out you find yourself looking down a wider path. The trees are larger here and farther apart. Fallen oaks lay scattered about, their decaying bark covered in moss that is surprisingly still green in winter. Off to your right a movement catches your eye. A doe stands several hundred yards away, but she’s seen you first and she’s watching closely. One more step and she bounds off so gracefully you find yourself jealous of her elegance.

Soon you notice another curve ahead and you instinctively know that what has gone down must now climb back up. Fortunately, the climb is gentle, though maybe slightly longer than you expected. Stopping every few feet gives you a chance to catch your breath and inspect some of the forest floor. Tiny delicate stems with dried berries appear scattered about. Reaching down to touch the berries you catch your sleeve on a thorny purple vine. Careful. Soft green lambs’ ear, velvet to the touch appears beneath scattered leaves. There’s an entire world actively living out nature’s process.

You’ve climbed back to level ground, and you can see the trail head just off in the distance. Stop for one last moment. Look around, breathe it in. What do you notice? The colors? The sounds? The smells? Do you feel lighter, more relaxed? Have you been able to shut out all the noise and connect with your surroundings? That is what walking in nature or spending time in my garden feels like to me. I know not everyone feels as strongly as I do about the value of time outdoors but I’m hopeful that by sharing my experiences it will encourage others to venture out and maybe find their own little bit of nature to enjoy.

Photos included in this post were taken in Guye Woods Park in Madison County, Iowa.