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As the leaves began to transform into vibrant shades of orange and gold, I felt a familiar pull to step outside and explore the season’s offerings. I wondered, what if I kept a nature journal during my autumn walks? Would the simple act of recording my observations deepen my appreciation for this fleeting season? With that question in mind, I decided to test this idea over a few weeks.
Setting Up My Experiment
On a sunny morning in mid-October, I gathered my supplies: a simple, blank notebook, a few colored pencils, and my favorite pen. I planned to take my walks on Saturday mornings when the neighborhood was quiet, allowing me to fully immerse myself in the sights and sounds of nature. My goal was to spend at least an hour outside each week, jotting down what I noticed and sketching anything that caught my eye.
For the first walk, I chose a route that included a nearby park with a small pond. I set out with a sense of curiosity, eager to see how this exercise might change my experience of the walk. I wore my favorite navy sweater and a pair of well-broken-in sneakers, perfect for the cool, crisp air.
First Walk: Discoveries and Observations
During my first outing, I observed the world more intently. I noted the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, creating patches of warm light on the ground. I logged the sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet and the distant laughter of children playing. I spent a few minutes at the pond, where a family of ducks paddled lazily. I sketched one of the ducks, capturing its rounded body and the way its feathers glimmered under the sun.
As I walked, I also noticed small details that I may have overlooked in previous years: the texture of the bark on a gnarled old tree, the scattered acorns on the ground, and the way the wind rustled the leaves. This intentional observation made me feel more connected to my surroundings. I filled several pages with jotted notes and sketches that afternoon, and by the time I returned home, my heart felt light. The experience was enjoyable, but I wondered if I would keep up this practice.
Second Walk: Adjusting My Approach
As I walked, I took a moment to pause and reflect on my previous entries. I wondered if I could incorporate more sensory details into my notes. Instead of just writing about the colors of the leaves, I began to focus on the smells and sounds around me. I took a deep breath, noting the earthy scent of damp soil and the sweet, faintly spicy aroma of fallen leaves.
The Joy of Revision
Later, I sat on a bench to write down my thoughts. I noticed I was hesitant to write about my feelings. I had easily sketched outside, but putting my emotions onto the page felt more challenging. What if I wrote about the joy of being outside, the nostalgia of past autumns, or even the fleeting nature of the season? I decided to jot down a few sentences about how the cool air invigorated my spirit and how the sight of the colorful leaves reminded me of childhood days spent jumping into leaf piles.
That afternoon, I returned home with a renewed sense of purpose. The experiment was not just about seeing the beauty of autumn but also about experiencing it emotionally. My entries were messy, more like a conversation with myself than polished prose, but I felt more connected to my feelings. This made me curious: would it be more rewarding to keep this emotional thread going?
Subsequent Walks: Embracing Variation
During the third week, I decided to switch things up and bring my son, Oliver, along for the walk. I could see his wide-eyed curiosity as we ventured into the park together. I handed him a small notebook and colored pencils, suggesting he could create his own nature observations. Together, we explored, he dashed ahead, while I lingered, taking notes on the way the wind shifted the branches above.
As we wandered, he spotted a squirrel scurrying up a tree. I encouraged him to draw the scene while I noted the excitement in his voice. I recorded this experience in my journal, hoping to capture not just the sights but the joy of sharing this moment. We ended our walk with hot cocoa from our favorite café, and I couldn’t help but smile at how this variation enriched my nature journaling experiment.
Final Thoughts and Ongoing Curiosities
By the time November rolled around, I had logged several walks and filled my nature journal with sketches, notes, and snippets of poetry I had jotted down. Each entry was a small snapshot of my experiences, a reminder of the moments that made up my autumn days. Some walks were robust with observations, while others felt more like a chore, and I began to accept that both experiences were valid.
One morning, I took a walk alone to reflect on what I had learned. The air was cold, and a light drizzle began to fall. I wrote about how the rain transformed the colors around me, deepening the hues of the leaves and creating a fresh, clean scent in the air. I noticed how the drizzle made the walk feel more solitary, yet somehow peaceful. I logged that feeling in my journal, acknowledging the beauty of quiet moments.
Wrapping Up My Experiment
As I close this chapter of my autumn nature journaling experiment, I realize there is no tidy conclusion. I found value in the practice itself, a way to connect deeply with the changing season and with my own thoughts and feelings. I plan to continue this ritual with each new season, adapting it to the unique offerings that come with each change in the year.
For now, I’ll simply keep this journal by my side, ready for the next walk, the next observation, and the next moment of curiosity that beckons me outside.
