Sunday, April 12, 1:15 p.m.; 72 degrees feels like 62 due to 29 mph winds. 

I notice warmth, wind, and humidity, and wonder if we'll skip straight to Summer. 

The first full blooms of purple liverleaf give me pause.

I linger on the bright, saturated color against last year's fallen leaves. 

Monday, March 30, 10:42 a.m.; 56 degrees feels like 56 due to mild winds.

I notice what looks to be a candy wrapper on the trail.

The fact that it is actually a scarlet cup mushroom gives me pause.

I linger on the delicate edges framing this bright red sign of early Spring. 

Saturday, March 21, 11:42 a.m.; 65 degrees feels like 60 due to warm sun and 10 mph winds.

I notice Spring coming alive.

The very beginnings of maple buds give me pause.

I linger on the tiny tips of tiny leaves poking out of the red buds. 

Friday, March 20 at 12:26 p.m.; 52 feels like 48 due to bright sun and 12mph winds. 

I notice the first signs of a budding tree that I cannot identify.

The tiniest sign of what's to come gives me pause. 

I linger on the sharp determination of the new growth.

Sunday, March 8 at 3:05 p.m.; 55 degrees feels like 45 due to 12mph winds.

I notice the contrast between red and white.

Birch bark bark fluttering in the wind gives me pause.

I linger on the way the birch layers have a variety of colors, like an agate.

Tuesday, March 3 at 2:26 p.m.; 45 feels like 55 due to sun and mild winds.

I notice the leaves that have remained on the oak all winter.

​Rusty orange against blue sky gives me pause.

I linger on the contrast between the angles and the circles.

Monday, March 2 at 3:56pm; 37 degrees feels like 31 due to 10mph winds.

I notice gray skies and patchy snow on the ground.

​Shriveled red berries hanging over full spiky burdock give me pause. 

​I linger at the burdock, noticing their fierce protective layer.

Thursday, February 19 at 4:09 p.m.; 33 degrees feels like 23 due to 10 mph winds.

I notice garbage littered along the trail. I use a plastic shopping bag to clean up. 

As I stomp away from the trash bin, evening primrose gives me pause.

I linger on the gritty texture, brittle leaves, and near-black hue standing out against golden prairie grasses.

Sunday, February 15 at 3:25 p.m.; 53 feels like 48 due to 6 mph winds.

I notice small things: warmth, sunshine, caterpillars, mud, tiny dried up plants.

A group of dried plants that look like weeds from afar give me pause. 

I linger on the repeating star patterns discovered by looking closer. ​

Sunday, February 8 at 1:51 p.m.; 30 degrees feels 15 due to 15mph winds.
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I notice the brutal winds as I step onto the trail at Ninebark.

A moment of calm in the curve of the trail gives me pause.

I linger on the plants near the ground that remain unaffected by the gusts. 

Saturday, February 7 at 1:48 p.m.; 24 degrees feels like 9 due to 12 mph winds.

I notice raccoon paw prints. So cute!

Red reed-like branches give me pause as I walk along the lake side path.

I linger on the red color and notice the shades appear different at different angles. ​

Thursday, February 5 at 3:48 p.m.; 34 degrees feels like 26 due to 10 mph winds.

I notice the wind, and also that ground is softer this time.

A little pine branch gives me pause.

I linger on the rough texture of the bark, the smoothness of the needles, the delicacy of the surrounding snowflakes, the dramatic shadow echoing the arch. 

Sunday, January 25, 2026 at 3:15 p.m.; 3 degrees feels like -6 due to 12 mph winds.

I notice bare branches vibrate in the ever-present, frigid wind.

Vine spirals intertwining, twisting, and circling give me pause. 

​I linger on vines wrapped around each other, seemingly snuggling for warmth. 

Sunday, January 18, 2026 at 10:04 a.m.; 10 degrees feels like −2 due to 10 mph winds.

I notice light snow is falling.

Red-headed bush clover covering the prairie catches my eye.

I linger on its dark spikes and rough texture peeking out from the smooth, white snow. 

Friday, January 16, 2026 at 2:48 p.m.; 21 degrees feels like 0 due to 20 mph winds.

I notice sounds of shifting and colliding ice chunks in the river.

The greens scattered in patches across the ground give me pause.

I linger on the textures, the variations of green and yellow, and the gentle curves.

Monday January 12, 2026 at 3:18 p.m.; 40 degrees feels like 40 with warm sun and mild 8 mph winds

I notice ice on the trails and question my choice to walk. 

A split, dried up milkweed pod gives me pause. 

​I linger on the layers, the textures, and the protective shell that once stored seeds. 

Saturday, January 10, 2026 at 11:28 a.m.; 25 degrees feels like 15 with 25 mph winds

I notice snow blowing off the trees.

Snowflakes falling like glitter from the blue sky give me pause. 

I linger on the tiny flakes resting on pine needles.