This week has been a rainy one. Making the trek out to Blunn Creek was no easy task, but it was worth every cold step. Upon first entering the preserve, a friend–who was kind enough to join me on such a blustery day–and I stumbled upon a small rabbit. He (or she, we did not get close enough to determine the sex, seemed either unafraid or indifferent to our presence. Although the photo has been zoomed in a bit, in reality we stood no less than 10 feet from the creature. We stayed there for a few minutes, watching the rabbit’s ears twitch ever so slightly as he stalked out his next move, darting his eyes around. In the end, I stepped on a particularly large branch and he hopped off quickly at the snapping noise, practically shooting through the air.
My friend and I continued through the wooded area, stopping every now and then to admire the fresh greenery that had arrived with the recent downpours. I took a moment to snap a picture of a beautiful, brand-new white blossom. It was amazing to see the tiniest of raindrops kissing the petals on these flowers. The delicacy of these thriving new plants brought warmth to my heart on such a cold day.
As we wound our way through the wooded area to my chosen spot by the creek, I noticed some more changes along the way since the last time I’d visited the area. Though there was some new flower development along the main path, most of the trees within the deeper areas appeared to have shed all of their leaves. Looking up, the bare branches above my head appeared black against the slate gray-colored sky.
Revisiting my “spot” this month was like seeing an old friend again. I found the creek easily by listening for the sound of the gently moving water. The creek appeared fuller this time, most likely due to the recent bouts of rain experienced by the area. I also noticed upon closer inspection that the moss appeared greener than the last time I was in Blunn Creek, almost electric green in color. The water seemed to be the same color, but the pale dirt I’d formerly sat easily on had now turned to a large patch of mud. Nevertheless, I planted my rain boots firmly into the ground as I carefully perused the spot.
A similar feeling of calm, of ease flooded my mind as I took in the scene. My stress lowered, my eyes widened, and I even forgot how cold I was in the drizzle. Each breath I took in the cold, crisp felt restorative as my friend and I walked around, inspecting the land. There was more litter, which was to be expected with moving water readily bringing in trash to the creek. This realization brought to mind a quote from Aldo Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac, which reads: “We shall never achieve harmony with land, any more than we shall achieve absolute justice or liberty for people. In these higher aspirations the important thing is not to achieve, but to strive.”