In mid-December, I had this idea to go outside every day, no matter the time, no matter the weather. It wasn’t to do anything in particular, except to be outdoors, feel the air in my lungs and on my face, taste the weather, attune myself to the natural world. Wary of New Year’s Resolutions, I started on December sixteenth, and I’ve been consistently stepping outside ever since.
Climate Anxiety
It was t-shirt weather in Vermont on December sixteenth, the kind of unseasonable weather that makes me anxious. There’s a medical name for this condition: climate anxiety. The rain the next day was worse: flooding, which is becoming routine.
For twenty-six years, the stream that marks our eastern property line has drained into the river, including in 2011 during Tropical Storm Irene. But for the past three years, this stream has jumped its banks, flooding our fields in December and July. While this has been a minor nuisance to us—the water carries stones and sand onto the lawn and hayfield—it’s been a major problem for neighbors whose basements have filled with stormwater and for our town, whose roads have repeatedly washed out.
Regardless of the heavy rain, I went outside, wearing a rain jacket, rain pants, and rain boots. In the morning, I videoed the water coming over the bank to document its path. I also walked down to the roaring, heaving, rushing river, where I stood at a safe distance, mesmerized by the power of water.
It rained for most of the last two weeks of December, and I still went outside. When I came in, I wrote about what I noticed: Within minutes of filling the birdfeeders, blue jays bellied up to the sunflower seeds and juncos pecked at what spilled on the ground. Soon nuthatch, woodpeckers, and doves arrived, and the gluttonous gray squirrels. How does the word get out?
Going Outside Makes Me More Observant
Once inside, I found myself memorializing my observations in my journal.
Now, when I head to my wordshop before dawn, I note the phase of the moon, its position in the sky, and it’s relationship with Venus, which sends out a light as bright as a LED beam. When clouds obscure the sky, I listen for sounds. In the dark, I hear water rushing downstream; in the daylight, noisy crows. One day, I saw the silhouette of a solitary bird against the lowering sky. It was too big to be a crow. It had the broader wings and tapered tail of the raven.
It’s ironic that I had to become so intentional about getting outside. Forty years ago, I moved from New York City to Vermont in order to be outdoors without having to take an elevator to get there. It is easier to step out the back door and be surrounded by nature. It’s also astounding how a desk job, housekeeping, and disinclination can keep me indors. But I’m learning: I feel better when I’m outdoors. Even when it’s chores that get me out—weeding, moving the chicken tractors, hanging laundry or stacking firewood—being outside liberates my writer’s voice. When I come in, I write down my observations. As a result, I’m more observant of the natural world of which I’m a part.
Hi Deborah,
I have to force myself outside when it’s cold or gloomy but I always feel better for it. I was cleaning the house this afternoon (hosting book club this evening!) and just as it was going dark my husband called me outside to see the first snowdrop – so out I went in coat and slippers (very glam!) to see this beautiful little bright white flower against the dark soil. Spring is on its way and hope springs eternal,
Wishing you and all your readers a happy New year and let’s hope for peace across the world,
Judith
Hello, Judith.
You are so far ahead of us in the UK! We’ve just had our first snow storm. Sadly, it’s been followed by heavy rain and probably flooding. I did get a few turns around the field on my skis, though. I love winter and snow–until the snowdrops appear!
So good to hear from you. And I second you wishes for peace, personal and global.
Deborah.
Very thought provoking……At the end of each day, I make it a point to go outside before I go upstairs, . The evening sky, air and stillness is very calming and I feel grateful for the day. The natural world is so nourishing.
Have a good day, my friend.
Hi Bobbe,
It doesn’t take much–a step outside, a walk from the house to the studio and back, from one apartment to another. But the combination of gratitude outdoors is greater than the sum of its parts.
D.
Excellent comment, Deb.
One of the things that has been mentioned is that during the height of Covid, we made our homes so comfortable during lockdown, complete with extensive home gyms, that the nesting impulse has continued for so many of us.
A walk in the rain with an umbrella or a rainsuit is actually quite invigorating, and makes me feel far less dreary than I feel when I’m inside, watching it rain.
Thanks, Alan. I’d made the Covid connection to staying home, but not to staying indoors. Interesting and highly credible. But the pleasures of gearing up and going out are keen. There’s a saying: There’s no such thing as bad weather, just inadequate clothing. Best, Deb.
Excellent reminder, Deb. I, too, have acquired a stay-in-place/indoors hangover since the Covid shutdown. But one day earlier this week, I went out to the mailbox just as snow was beginning to come down. The little dots of wet chill landing on my face and eyelashes, and the smell of the cold outdoor air in my lungs, all felt so new and restorative. What a simple treat!
Well done! Well said!
Hi again!
It’s so interesting reading about how covid has made our nesting instinct that bit stronger, me included, and how we have to rediscover the impulse/strength to get outside again.
I’m reading a book about the history of London and am wondering whether people in the past had similar reactions to plagues and pestilence? Maybe someone out there has already researched this or is currently doing so.
As Deborah and readers say, nature has a wonderful way of grounding us and giving us joy. Decades later, I still remember looking out of my room at university at the trees on the horizon and thinking, whether I pass my exams or not, those trees will still be there tomorrow.
Judith
Good question about how people have responded to plagues throughout history, Judith, and certainly one worth study!
You describe a profound moment of realization. I think the immensity–and endurance (so far)–of nature awes and humbles us. I know it does me. Thank you for sharing this.