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For a long time, my morning walks to the coffee shop felt routine. I grabbed my favorite travel mug, slipped into my well-worn sneakers, and made my way down the same streets. Lately, though, I have been wondering: what if I could see more color on my walks? What if I actively looked for it? With that question in mind, I decided to experiment with a few small changes during my morning routine.
Setting the Stage
On a chilly Wednesday morning in late September, I set out on my first day of this little experiment. My usual route to the coffee shop is just under a mile long, a mix of familiar sidewalks and a few turns. As I stepped outside, I took a moment to breathe in the crisp air. I made a mental note of my surroundings, recalling the homes with their muted exteriors and the trees that were just beginning to show hints of fall color.
To encourage myself to notice more, I decided to implement a few simple changes over the next week:
- Take a different route once this week: This would open me up to new sights and colors.
- Make a point to pause and observe: I planned to stop and really look at something colorful each day.
- Bring along my small notebook: I would jot down what I noticed to keep my observations fresh.
Day One: A Familiar Path
On Thursday, I stuck with my usual route. As I walked, I reminded myself not to rush. I spent a few extra minutes looking at the trees lining the street. There was a large maple that caught my attention, its leaves starting to turn a vibrant orange. I took out my notebook and wrote down the specific shade as I peered closely at a cluster of leaves. It was a color I didn’t usually notice, hidden among the more muted greens of summer.
Continuing on, I noticed a small patch of flowers blooming in a front yard. There were rich purples and yellows that felt vibrant against the gray sidewalk. I stopped, lifted my phone, and snapped a photo. Normally, I might have just walked by without a second thought. Instead, I cherished that burst of color, even if it was just for a moment.
Day Two: A New Route
For Friday, I decided to try a different path. I took a left onto Maple Street instead of my usual right. Immediately, the change struck me. The houses were painted in brighter shades, from pastel blues to sunny yellows. I felt a lightness in the air as I made my way down the unfamiliar street.
Stopping in front of a vibrant garden, I noticed how the colors changed as the sun rose higher. The flowers were a mix of deep pinks and bright whites. I stood there for a few minutes, writing about how the morning light transformed the colors. I realized something quite simple yet profound: changing my route had opened up a whole new spectrum of colors I had never appreciated before.
Day Three: Pausing to Observe
My Saturday walk felt particularly refreshing. I made it a point to pause more than usual. I stopped at every interesting spot along the way, using my notebook like a sketchpad for my thoughts. I took note of a blue door with a brass doorknob that seemed to gleam in the sunlight. I wrote down the feeling of nostalgia it evoked, thinking of similar doors from my childhood.
While admiring the door, I also spotted a light grey cat lounging on the porch, seemingly indifferent to my presence. It was a reminder that all these little moments were part of a larger tapestry. The colors of the door, the fur of the cat, the sunlight filtering through the trees, everything was more vivid when I chose to take my time. I felt grateful for this small but significant shift in how I experienced the morning.
Day Four: The Power of Small Details
By Sunday, I was starting to look forward to my morning walks. I kept asking myself what I might see that day. I decided to visit the coffee shop earlier than usual, around 7:30 a.m. The early light seemed softer, and as I walked, I noticed the dew on the grass, sparkling like tiny jewels. I paused to take a picture, which is something I rarely did before this experiment.
As I approached the shop, I noticed a chalkboard sign outside with colorful handwritten letters advertising seasonal drinks. I became aware of how the colors of the chalk, rich greens and deep purples, stood out against the black background. I grabbed my coffee and sat on a nearby bench for a few moments. I watched as pedestrians passed by, their clothing adding splashes of color to the early morning scene.
Day Five: Reflecting on the Observations
On Monday, I took a moment to review my notes before heading out. I reflected on how a simple shift in perspective had helped me notice the colors I had previously overlooked. This exploration felt like peeling layers off an onion; the more I tried to see, the more there was to find. I jotted down a few highlights from my week:
- Bright yellow flowers in a front yard on Day One.
- A brilliant blue door on Day Two.
- The sparkling dew on grass on Day Four.
I was surprised at how much I had tracked, and how it transformed my morning walks into vibrant experiences.
Day Six: Bringing Friends Into the Experiment
By Tuesday, I thought it might be fun to share my observations with a friend. I invited Sarah along for my morning walk, introducing her to the idea of intentionally noticing color. As we walked, I pointed out the flower patches I had seen before. Together, we admired a community garden bursting with colors, a rainbow of pumpkins, squash, and marigolds. The shared observation made the experience even richer.
We talked about the small joys in noticing something new each day, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for this simple but meaningful connection. This was another layer to my experiment; it was not just about seeing color but sharing that experience with someone else.
Final Observations: What Stuck?
Looking back on my week, I noticed several things. For one, choosing to pause and observe changed how I felt about my morning walks. They became moments of joy rather than a means to an end. I also realized that color was more than just visual; it had an emotional resonance. Each little detail, a bright flower, a cheerful door, added to my overall mood.
As I logged my final notes, I recognized that some days were richer than others. While some walks dazzled with color, others were simply fine. That was okay; I was beginning to appreciate the ordinary along with the extraordinary. It felt like a reminder that life is layered, and even the most mundane days can offer small bursts of color if we choose to look closely.
As I wrap up this experiment in my notebook, I think I’ll keep these practices alive in my daily life. Maybe not every day, but I’ll take time to notice color, whether it’s a sunny yellow door, a cluster of wildflowers, or even the shadow patterns on the sidewalk. There’s something quietly satisfying about being more aware, living fully in those small moments.
