The famous naturalist John Burroughs wrote that one observes nature best outside his doorstep, on daily walks, close to home.

He said that a person comes to know a familiar landscape like his own character, and that it becomes a part of oneself. Burroughs said that by observing nature close to home we are able to see the changes in nature that occur day to day season by season, and year by year.

For the past several years I have been taking morning walks in an area near my home in all seasons, regardless of the weather. I have found that all the wise words John Burroughs wrote are correct. I truly have begun to see changes and beauty in nature that I have missed before, and in doing so have been enriched.

I have acquired an understanding of the wonders and beauty each new day brings, and what a gift it is to witness it.

Winter brings changes to my walking area that are profound and not for the faint hearted. It takes a deep desire to head out on mornings below zero, when the wind chill is 20 or 30 below. But it is worth it; in hearing the wind thunder through the cottonwoods, in the designs in the ice on the pond, in the sun bleached tan and yellow meadow grasses, in looking into the wild hungry eyes of a fox or coyote.

By midwinter though I find myself thinking about the warmth and green beauty of spring, and I begin anxiously searching for any sing that the new season is approaching.

Naturalists like Burroughs, Thoreau, Margaret Milne, and Roger Tory Peterson all have written that the arrival of spring is not sudden, corresponding to a set calendar date, but comes in small day to day increments, according to nature's own timetable, and can vary considerably from one year to the next.

The first sign of spring I have noticed so far is simply that my morning walks are more and more in light, rather than in winter solstice dark. The dawn comes a few minutes earlier from now til the summer solstice in June.

Another sign of the changing season reveals itself when the snow recedes from the grassy meadow I walk through each morning. The earthy scent of early spring emanates from the the from newly exposed moist soil and tender yellow and brown grass of last season. It is a familiar smell that I remember from past years of walking. A few more days of sunshine witll induce tender green grass blades to begin popping up the the yellow winter meadow. I hope to pass through on the morning they are first visible and accept their sign as a greeting to the new season.

The call of a male Redwing blackbird was the first of this new year. He has already returned on this warm day to search out a piece of cattail marsh to defend as his own. If he is chosen by a female redwing that returns later he may have a family on his chosen territory.

Waterfowl will soon begin to migrate north. Common, Hooded, and Redbreasted Mergansers follow the slow progression of warm weather up the continent. By late spring they are gone, and I will not see them again til fall.

Hawks slowly rising on air currents, then soaring gracefully down to catch the next one, is also a sign of the changing season. They have spend the winter in central or southern America and are returning along with the waterfowl, except in in a much more leisurely manner, with slow soaring instead of flapping of wings.

On these midwinter days I walk beneath the skeleton branches of woodland trees, and see them reach up into the sunrise pink and red clouds. Next season's tiny leaves are up among the branches, protected by tough bud scales at the ends of the twigs. The bud scales and scars left when last years leaves fall are unique for each kind of tree, and can be used to identify the different trees. The immature leaves are also waiting for the warm days of spring, to the time when they will throw off the bud scale and unfold into shady green summer.

The foxes begin digging their den in late winter and will have their babies sometime in March. For several weeks the young foxes will stay in the protection of the Den. When they leave the Den their mother keeps a watchful eye on them. If danger comes by she barks at them to head undergound while she runs off as a decoy, stopping in the meadow to check out me and my dogs on our walk. Daughters from previous year's litters may help mom raise the new family, bringing food for her new brothers and sisters.

The sound of runing water from snowmelt signifies spring is near. It is soothing to sit and listen to the music from a small brook. The water tumbling over rocks or moss masks the highway noise a quarter mile away, or from a trash truck on the road over the ridge, or from a train a mile away. If I am lucky I will lose myself in daydreaming for a moment. I believe there is the essence of healing in taking the time to slow down and enjoy natural things like water running in this brook.

I will sit and enjoy the progression of the seasons, or walk on the path through the meadow and through the woods in my close by paradise of common nature. Each season my eyes are more opened to nature discoveries and beauty I have not seen before.

"Nature comes home to one most when he is at home'

. . . . John Burroughs.

1/9/97