By the time I arrive at a garbage bin, I have a full grocery bag and I feel a bit of joy mixed in with my anger, a bit of power returned through my choice to take action. As I continue moving, a near-black, dried up evening primrose stands out against the golden prairie grasses. The primrose’s gritty texture, brittle leaves, and jagged lines mirror the beauty of my burn out and I notice I no longer feel weighed down by futility.
Close up, though, I notice repeating star patterns. Falling into the details, I am locked in and time warps. Light and shapes explode and all other sensory stimulation fades into the background. My passion for nature photography comes back into focus and I leave feeling revitalized.
The fresh air feels unfamiliar in my lungs. I revel in the effort. I honestly don’t notice much as my focus is on the wonderful sensation of outdoor movement on my body. The one thing that really stands out: raccoon paw prints. So cute!
I keep the rapid pace for an hour until I approach a favorite rest spot. As I slow my body, my visual attention is stimulated by a bright red branch. I spend some time noticing the various shades of red and how the shades appear different at different angles. Joy appears through a change in perspective.
I notice the texture of the bark, the smoothness of the needles, the snowflakes that hold both ends in place. I also notice a shadow dramatically echoing the arch in the pristine snow. In my mind, the arch represents a path to move forward into my evening, with creativity having cleared out resentment. I walk back down the trail with a lighter step.
I sit at the bench nearest a pine tree and pine cone ridges peeking through drifts remind me of flying over mountain peaks rising above cloud cover.
Savanna Springs provides both the comfort of home and the delight of a mini adventure. I breath a sigh of relief.
I need warmth. I need clarity. I need resolution. None of which I will get today.
So, instead, I focus on the bright sunlight and feel my tingling toes, my heavy heart, my Minnesotan identity. And I accept the tangled reality.
As I move along the trail, additional evidence of enduring gives me pause: tracks of turkey, rabbit, deer, pheasant, and tiny rodents. And also giant snow drifts that rise up from the trail and force a change in direction. Veering from the plan slightly tempers my initial determination.
Trudging forward on a new path, I remind myself of my intention and refocus on noticing what endures. I stop at a fork in the path and a meadow vole suddenly pops out of a tiny snow-tunnel at my feet! When it just as suddenly dives back into the snow-tunnel system, I follow the fork the vole took and a sense of playfulness enters my body. My steps loosen and I roll with the uneven terrain. I leave with a strand of silly woven into the stubborn. I take with me this reminder from nature: joy can be found even in challenging conditions.
As I move again, I notice that the wind gusts carry a familiar tone, the greens scattered in patches across the ground offer the subtlest reminder of spring, and the textured leaves draw my attention until my fears finally shift to focus. I leave with the realization that, in this moment, the familiar feels safe.
As I walk back toward my car, I spot a less icy path leading to the Legacy Trail. Just off the South end of the trail loop, a rock catches my eye as a potential spot to pause. Arriving at the rock, its pitted, cratered surface and gravel-dust color leave me uninspired.
I force myself to sit and linger anyway. Within seconds of sitting, the rock reveals a sparkle of quartz along the edges getting sun. I soften into the moment: the breeze on my skin, the warmth of the sun, the glittering rocks and snow, the rustle of grasses and leaves. Presence finally arrives. I leave with a quiet reminder: mental clutter often hides life's sparkle. Today, after a little extra time, effort, and discomfort, I was able to see more clearly and carry a spark of beauty into my evening.
As I hike, small details give me pause: tiny raccoon paw prints, very few human tracks, the glitter of fresh snow, and the ice hidden beneath. I linger before crossing onto the un-groomed trail, eyes drawn to the surface snow noticing it's textured like elephant skin.
I leave with the quiet realization that navigating snow and ice keeps me highly attentive to the ground. Even so, I am growing braver about winter walking, once again. I carry that bravery into my day.
I stop and linger at the memorial bench, hearing the boy’s grunts and a bird's chirps. As soon as I soften, subtle movement catches my eye. Bubbles swell, dance, and swirl beneath a thin layer of ice on the walking path. I leave with a song on my lips and subtle sense of hope bubbling up.
I take a seat at a picnic table, noting my coat is unzipped and my gloves aren't needed, and wonder if the birds would feel free to stay if this warmth was typical for a January day. I leave feeling calm, carrying a softer jaw and shoulders into my evening.
I linger at the top of a hill overlooking the lake, listening to the rhythmic tapping of a woodpecker on the opposite shore. I leave invigorated, carrying a sense of adventure into my day.
My body feels restless until the pines pull me into stillness. I linger under their shelter, softened, noticing how life repeats in quiet ways. I leave remembering that there is always something new to discover in the familiar. This is joy!
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