Nature Journal: Introduction

Isn’t it strange how activities which we used to shy away from can become one of the best parts of our day? I often laugh to think of all the conversations I have had with my mum regarding “nature study” as I learnt to call it growing up. I detested the hour each day which my siblings and I were forced to spend outside, studying the world around us. We were instructed to read a passage regarding some topic and then observe said topic in nature, record what we observed, and even draw a slight sketch. Looking back, it brings me great amusement to remember my distress as I now often engage in a sort of nature study all on my own instigation. It is this which I wish to document here on the blog, a personal journal of sorts. I wish to make note of all the simple things which have brought me so much joy in these dark days, to encourage me to be a little less pessimistic and a wee bit more appreciative. Here I shall include my musings and notes on piffle, on thoughts and fears, dreams and hopes, and above all, the things I see when out and about in nature.

25th March ‘21-

I was not able to go out walking today. I have prided myself upon the consistency with which I have been able until now, to attend these daily walks around campus. It is amusing to think that only a few months ago I detested walking and could find a million and one reasons to excuse myself from such a dreary task. Now, it is something which I look forward to with vivid anticipation and I hope, indeed I am setting my alarm early to be able to do so, will go walking anon. It was quite humid today and I felt rather ill because of it. It rained too, though it is not quite half as comforting as the rain back home as it lacks the depth of smell which only mountain air and evergreen trees provide.

The birds and frogs are having a pretty party today as the weather has gotten warmer and more humid. A single swan dwells on Coy Pond and I have dubbed him Sir Albert. Of course, I am uncertain as to whether Albert is he or a she, but he looks quite lonely without a mate, and I am sure it will not mind too much if I get it wrong. I can hear them now, the birds, the frogs, and the crickets, busy at their music-making, as if the air were alive with the teeming of life and the presence of spring. I look forward to my evening ritual, a warm cup of tea, having obtained cream today, and perhaps a chapter more in my book, though I will no doubt refrain and instead, watch another episode of that dear, honest, and extremely comforting show, Midsummer Murders.