Nature heals in a way that few other remedies can.
You put yourself literally out there in the morning woods, on the winter beach, beside the hiccuping stream, or in view of a majestic oak tree…and it happens.
My earliest memories of self-care are the last one on the previous list, looking at an enormous white oak outside my childhood bedroom window. I could rest my elbows on the foot of my bed, prop up my chin in the cup of my hands and figure out anything that weighed on my 8-year-old mind. I felt better, spiritually connected and heard.
Fast forward to my present life on a former botanical garden, neighbor Anne laughed at my idea of going away for a silent retreat, saying “just take two hours to marvel by the pond and be at peace”, like that’s easy to do without discovering another project that needs my muscle.
One gloriously crisp cool morning, the boys are off to the catch the school bus at 6:40. Before my morning work meeting, I walk to get some fresh flowers, spying two hydrangea variants by the small pond on the way to the Japanese teahouse. I am almost to the teahouse when I pause to listen and look. A female cardinal, my first greeter, starts in the willow tree then makes her way closer to me until she lights on an azalea bush five feet away.
On that cue, a chorus of wrens, titmice, finches, sparrows, woodpeckers and more chirp and sing as they discover my intrusion. Clutching my bouquet, I pause, marveling in silence, finally making sense of what Anne said about finding a retreat on my property.
