from 4/13- wild weather and sit spot

I've been struggling to find the time for a sit spot. As I get outside more, and kayaking, and working significantly more than in the winter, I find less time to commune with nature. In fact, this is precisely when I need to get out to a sit spot more. I am still intimidated, having moved recently, in finding a new one, lest it be anything less than ideal. BUT HAVING A SIT SPOT THAT ISN'T IDEAL IS BETTER THAN HAVING NO SIT SPOT! I write that in capital letters to remind myself to ditch the ego and the excuses and to simply get outside!

So, the opportunity arose last weekend. It was cold in the morning and by 10:30am, it was SNOWING. Though it didn't stick we feared that it would persist and the cold would linger, making our outing with 8-year-olds somewhat un-enjoyable and challenging. So we cancelled the day's outing. By noon, when the outing was going to start, the weather was still brisk, but sunny and blue skies... wild spring weather!

As such, I had a day with time on my hands that I wasn't expecting. I used the time well in getting my natural history files arranged perfectly (after years of disorganization). But it was an all-day affair. I said, "At two o'clock I am going outside regardless of how much work I have to do and no matter what the weather is." At 2:20, I was out the door and it was sunny. My work was strewn about the apartment like a tornado had come through, but I left anyways.

I found my spot (only my second time out there) and spent a LONG ten minutes sitting, wondering when 30 minutes would finally arrive. Eventually I got lost in the amazing-ness around me. An American Robin (Turdus migratorius) flying nearby that showed me a thing or two. The Western Grey Squirrel (Sciurus griseus) that had leaves in its mouth and accidentally tipped me off to where it lives! The insects flying about, the Western Hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla) protecting its root base from invading colony of native Sword Fern (Polystichum Munitum). At 35 minutes I peered at my watch and yearned to stay longer.

So I crept out slowly. In fact, being near a busy trail, I made a goal that no one should know I was there. Creepy according to society, but fun and challenging to the naturalist. My ruminations are written below, but the experience put me in the body and mind of a salamander, with their lateral undulatory locomotion, crawling close to the ground. I took 10 minutes to get back to the trail and made sure no predators were around to nab me!

I made the following three conclusions too:
-I observed oblivious runners (with headphones inserted) and gregarious walkers (whose loud talking and gross conversation might have overshadowed a cougar stalking and eventually attacking them) who were outside but not engaging with the outside.

-It's one thing to be a trail runner; it's another thing to run on trails. It's one thing to do an activity that takes place outside; it's another thing to BE outside. And it is possible to do both... but we often forget about the engagement piece. Spending time outside is not BEING outside.

-Doing an activity outdoors is empty unless we also spend the time to appreciate that outdoor place. What use is running through a forest without spending at least two minutes listening to the beautiful spring call of a Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pacificus)?