Snow Melts

After what feels like months and months of wind, snow, and ice, finally, the green begins to show through. Green is just the start, as spring progresses, the flowers, weeds, or wild, planted, or infiltrated poke through the soil. This feels like hope embodied to me. As the weather warms and the flowers bloom, the world is restored to bright and warm. During the winter, even when blinded by light on snow, it feels like the sun is in hiding. The joy of the sun does not wash over my face nearly as well when there is no warmth to accompany it. Today I walked around Geneseo, letting the warm sun crawl deep in my bones as I took in the nature it was finally allowing to grow up into the world. This feeling is something to hold onto as this comfort and inspiration carry me through the colder months to come again. The warm breeze begins to overpower the icy winds, and the green grass begins to show through the melting snow. Eventually, we are left with a cleaner slate. No snow, grass ready to grow, flowers ready to blossom. Today I let the breeze boss me around, I walked at its whims on a journey to connect with the natural world around me.

Melodies & Windy Walks

Walking around campus when it is warm reminds me of why I chose Geneseo. The green and the flowers and the way you do not need to go far to disconnect from the humanity surrounding you. While I do love listening to the sounds the natural world sends our way, I find that music is often a great augmenter to experiencing the natural world. I tend to walk around with an earbud in or headphones on. I feel that a good song that represents the light and growth of spring makes it that much more enjoyable. Today, my song of choice was “Memory Band” by Minnie Ripperton. I think the grand instrumentals and her light yet clear voice mirrored the way I felt about the grandness and the warmth associated with spring. The soft breeze agreed with her rhythms, and the sun was jealous of the warmth flowing through her voice. It felt like reminiscing about adventures and springs before.

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Back in Time

The newly pleasant elements took me back to different experiences I’ve had in nature. It was easy to imagine myself at the peak of a mountain, letting the breeze cool me as I look out at the untouched land for miles ahead. Walking up and down the hills of Geneseo’s campus evoked memories of hiking through the woods, staring at the tree cover above me, the dappled sunlight on the root-permeated dirt. Watching the sunset over the fields and hills was a fine substitution for doing so on the highest point of a mountain. While it could never emulate the same exact feeling, connecting with the hills and the grass, watching the sunset and the clouds, brings a sense of peace to you. I feel that this is similar to the absolute serenity of the peaceful views and sounds of the Adirondack Mountains. Feeling the spring temperament, or watching life bloom on the ground and in the trees, brings stillness to a nonstop life. I feel that watching the flowers push through the dirt, or the leaves return to the trees, re-centers me with the balance that nature possesses. It allows me a sense of balance I forget in the winter.

Paradise

Although this place doesn’t have sand or water, it will always be my oasis. As long as I’ve known how to breathe, the fresh air filling my lungs has been intertwined with the sound of birds singing. When the robins, cardinals, chickadees, and mourning doves sing their songs, I find myself at home. Lying under the hundred year old locust tree, even before it blooms, is an ethereal experience. The branches sway, I hear the birds chirp, and I know then that I’m home.

The Pond

No more than 100 feet west of the locust tree is the pond that I’ve spent endless summer mornings sitting at, mesmerized by the frogs, koi, and goldfish cohabitating with each other. Today is one of the first days of the year that the aquatic creatures perform their routine for us. After my mother throws a fistful of fish food, they all swim to the surface, eager to get fed first. The beautiful koi fish glimmer in the sunlight just before the clouds come to dull the pastel colors of spring. My beautiful blonde kitty saunters over to the pond, crossing the wooden bridge while hunting the first dozen frogs to appear this season. The frogs have gorgeous green speckles and sit patiently waiting. I could never know what they were waiting for, but I could sense their calm patience, and it washed over me. The dead and brittle remnants of last year’s lily pads and reeds fill my family with anticipation for springtime.

A Walk Around the Grounds

Once I’ve exhausted our examination of the pond, I take Dolly’s lead, my cat, and begin to walk to the front patio of my house. Who knew just an acre of land could hold so much value for a family, and so much beauty, even in the death of winter’s last moments. I’ve never felt more privileged to live here than when I get to watch the land turn over and gain a new life once a year. I sit on the front patio with my mother and let her tell me which birds are singing and which ones are her favorite. As we listen to the birds, I look up towards the sky and see the perfect shade of baby blue, with heather gray clouds passing by. I imagine where the sun is and how it shines down on the Earth, allowing my house to be dimly lit in the late afternoon in the most perfect way.

Conclusions

I feel such peace surrounded by Mother Nature; though some could dub me a tree-hugger, I’d much rather be known for my loving attitude towards the place we call home. I’ve walked every inch of this property, I know where every tulip will come up and where the deer will cross into the woods. It’s undeniable that during spring, I feel most connected to this land.

Returning

On the south side of campus, past my freshman-year dorm, is the Arboretum. The walk there is relatively the same as it was 2 years ago, walking around Onondaga Hall and cutting across the parking lot to the entrance of the Arboretum, being welcomed by the plaque that I’ve never stopped to read. I walked past the lonely bench and the large, old walnut tree with a huge burl. I was a bit shocked to see they’d cut the longest branch of the wide tree. It was roughly three or four times my height in length and sloped down and away from the trunk, nearly touching the ground. One of the first things I’d done while at Geneseo was climb that branch, the only way to reach the rest of the tree. All that remains of that branch is the clean cut—presumably accomplished by some power tool—that had exposed the circular rings and revealed its age.

Trodding Further

I continued to make my way around the Arboretum, veering right once I reached the gazebo and down the slimmer, lesser-known path. The absence of grass leads me to where I intend to go. There are a few twigs, leaves, and wayward bush branches in areas of the path, but it’s relatively clear. The ground was a bit slick with the rain from the day prior, and the air was still tainted with the residual cold, but all things considered, it probably didn’t warrant the winter jacket I’d brought with me.

I watched some squirrels run between the trees, jumping from one branch to another, and how they ruffled the dense layer of leaves that hid the ground below the bushes. A few cardinals and some similarly sized brown birds—maybe chickadees—flew about the area.

The path was short, and I could hear the nearby road on the lower slope of the half-hazard oval trail. The brushing of car tires and the occasional bombardment of a 16-wheeler would drown out the sound of the birds and rustling of wind. It was an odd reminder that this small patch of woods was exactly that—’a small patch’ enclosed by paved roads that have imposed themselves on either side. Even though they were probably hundreds of feet away, the noise of engines still disturbed this apparently ‘untouched’ piece of nature.

The Walnut Tree

I made my way up the rest of the trail. Towards the very end, just before you can see the exit that spits you out on the other side of the gazebo, was an obscenely tall black walnut tree. It was probably the largest in the entire Arboretum. Unlike the ones that greeted me at the entrance, this one has remained untouched, allowed to keep all of its branches.

It’s probably the biggest tree I’ve ever seen. It must have been at least 35-40 feet tall, probably more. I tried to see how far I could wrap my arms around it (a rather uncomfortable task considering the rather deep, dry ridges of the bark, which caught on the cotton of my sweatshirt). At best, I couldn’t even wrap my arms halfway around the trunk.

The tree split into two main branches, both of which split again. The smaller limbs that branched off were curled and hitched in an almost gnarly way. The ends of many of the branches were bare, bark gone. The absence of leaves would probably be cause for concern if it were a few months warmer. Yet, the other walnut tree, the welcoming one that greets visitors before the gazebo, had a giant burl—sometimes indicative of disease. It’s an odd and somewhat solemn reminder that even those giant, imposing branched figures die; they’re susceptible to disease just like we are, even though they don’t show it the same way.

Movement

From this side of the trail, I can hear the other road that eventually leads past Main Street. It’s the same howling of tires and the same reminder, mirroring the sounds heard at the other end of the trail. No matter how large the forest, there’s usually some kind of path that will cut through it, whether it be a paved road or a trodden trail. As a group, humans don’t tend to leave a place unchanged; as an individual, the changes I left were minimal—footprints in dirt, microscopic cotton fibers on bark, and a few twigs crunched underfoot—but they’re changes all the same.

As I left the Arboretum and began the rather long walk back home, I reflected on a quote from Aristotle that one of my professors mentioned a few days before, “there is no time without change.” Drawing from this, I’d like to contradict the common poetic sentiment that time seems to stop or slow when you encounter nature. Regardless of perception, time doesn’t stop or slow. There will always be constant movement and change—the cutting of branches, the flying of birds, the trodding of trails, the losing of bark, and the building of roads—there will always be the constant passing of time.

My Time in Nature

The times in which I observed nature were both night and day. Taking in the fact that the same earth can look, sound, smell, and feel so different with a simple twelve hour difference. Day is full of energy and movement. The sun is out, people are working, going places, and making things happen. It feels active and productive, with noise, light, and hustle. Night, on the other hand, is quiet and calm. The world slows down, the stars come out, and there’s a sense of peace. It’s a time to rest, reflect, or just enjoy the stillness that daytime doesn’t always allow. While there is such a great duality between the two times of day, there is the common threds between the two that I observed. Even in their busiest moments, both day and night have space for pause — for silence, reflection, and calm. Stillness doesn’t belong to one or the other. It’s tucked into both, if you know where to look.

In the Light of Day

I chose to turn one of walks that I take daily, into an opporunity to observe all that was around me. This was was simply taken within the streets of gorgerous Geneseo. Typically one of these walks is taken for physical activity and is brisk, rushed, and rapid meaning observation and nature is lost within. Music is usually blasting, thought are elsewhere, senses are turned off only to notice the hustle and bustle of others. This walk however, was taken on a Sunday afternoon, sun shining, ears free of headphones, senses turned on. The sights, the smells, the sounds or lack there of, and the feeling of cool sunny air on my skin. Much to take in. I noticed that much of the hustle and bustle of the day time is human made, the loud music, and lack of appreciation, the lingering stress in the air. Something that particularly caught my eye within this time spent in nature was the simple beauty of a patch of purple flowers, one may consider them weeds, others may consider them a sign of hope for their day. Stopping at the patch, I observed, took in the beauty, took a deep breath, and had a relization. This patch exists all of the time, day and night. What changes is the environment around it, darkness, humans sleeping, the stillness of the world, and the flowers stay put, watching it all happen. I was then inclined to observe the night as well. https://dh.sunygeneseoenglish.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2025/04/E359A105-1754-41AD-9630-129E0B725A1D_1_105_c.jpeg

The Still of Night

The night is quiet, serene, full of reflection, and hope for the next day. This particular night held space for a fire outside with eight tired girls wanting to unwind and breathe after a day in the light. As the sun set, sky got darker, and the world more still, the minds of myself and my seven roomates also stilled. I took it in. The glow of the fire, bats above our heads, the occasional gust of wind through our hair, potent smell of fire we all love to hate. The whole world slowed down. However, it is not the world that slows down, it’s the humans in the earth that slow down. This observation of duality reminds me to stop, think, look, listen, breathe, no matter what time of the day it is. https://dh.sunygeneseoenglish.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2025/04/IMG_1886-scaled.jpeg

Use of AI

In this blog post, I did use AI for the creation of the titles of my paragraphs. Something I would like to try next time would be to write the paragraph first and then ask AI to title the paragraph based on the content rather than asking it prior to the writing of the paragraph.

Mother Nature is always around us even if we are blind to it, and she can take on multiple forms. These include, but are not limited to, trees scattered randomly around a city block, birds singing songs in someone’s backyard, a local park with bike trails, or an entire national park that fills tourists in awe with each visit. In our seemingly rapid-paced and money-chasing society, it can be easy to forget to slow down and appreciate her beauty. Spending time in nature allows us to relax and process the world around them, both externally and internally, as well as learn new things about ourselves and the natural world.

The Arboretum

I made my own nature-based observations while traipsing through Geneseo’s Arboretum, which was located just beyond the residence halls on the south side of campus. Upon entry the trails were all hidden from view, but next to a wooden bench, I found the entrance to a trail marked by yellow arrows. I attempted to follow the trail completely, but about a quarter of the way down, the path was covered in mud. My shoes, lacking the proper traction, made it hard to continue, until I found a drier trail at an intersection. Despite this, it was a very quiet and peaceful escape from college.

The majority of my observations were of animals, especially birds. I found it surprising that, although the nature trail itself was not too far away from civilization, there was quite an abundance of wildlife. Watching them required me to focus inward on my immediate surroundings and ignore the road just beyond the trails. Every time a truck drove by, producing a cacophony of sound, or I took out my phone to take a picture, the animals would disappear entirely and I would lose track of them. These animals were: three turkey vultures circling above the tree canopy, a goldfinch, with winter plumage, flying from one tree to another, two crows ducking in an out of the trees following each other, a rather adorable and small garter snake from underneath a wooden bridge, and two 2 robins hopping in the shrubbery with near perfect camouflage.

Specific (and fascinating) animal obervations

The two crows were probably the most fascinating to watch. They were following each other through the treetops silently, twisting and turning through the branches. If I was really quiet, I could hear the flapping of their obsidian wings, which only added to the wonderful display. It was truly mesmerizing to watch these black birds carry out their airborne ritual, though I was unable to record it. Unfortunately, the experience was cut short by a truck thundering along on the road behind me, which distracted me completely from the birds. When I looked back at the trees, I could not find them at all. However, I heard the calls of crows throughout my hour-long nature-walk, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were hiding somewhere in the trees, talking to each other.

While wandering around, and seeing where the path led, I found another entrance to the Arboretum down the road near Suffolk Hall. It was located on a downhill path that curved towards the bottom, before leading to a small bridge made of wooden planks flowing over a small stream, as shown above. When I re-entered, after seeing what lay beyond the exit, I crossed the same bridge to return to the trails. When I was halfway across, I heard a strange rustling sound from beneath me. What greeted me, or crept away from me, was a little garter snake fleeing from the noise my feet made. I’ll admit that I found it adorable to watch the tiny snake, who was probably afraid of the two-legged giant, slither towards the jungle of dead leaves and tree-roots that surrounded the stream. However, after looking away to open the camera app on my cell phone to snap a picture of the small creature, I completely lost sight of it, unsurprisingly.

In conclusion

If there is one thing I’ve learned from this hour-and-fifteen minute excursion, it is to live in the moment. It is so easy to be distracted by loud noises, or do actions that unintentionally pull one away from their surroundings. That said, it is nearly impossible to be in complete control of one’s surroundings and any given moment; I had no control over the loud truck driving behind me and producing a loud noise that disrupted my observance of the two crows. However, the memory of that experience and the serenity I felt while taking time to relax and watch the natural world go by is one I will not soon forget.

It was a very cloudy afternoon when going for this walk, immersing myself in the environment as it felt very still and quiet. Noticing how the sky was, I felt led to the nature around being so quiet. You could feel the slight presence of a peaking sun but felt the cold wind whistle through. The environment felt still, peaceful as though all the stress from the day I felt just vanished while walking. Looking at the grey sky, it made walking around feel more sad without the sun but in a way it was nice as though you had to focus on the sound you heard around you.

Starting my walk up this slight hill, you could feel the damp ground from the rain the night before. I started to look more closely at the ground, as I was looking for worms and if they were crawling around the damn, muddy ground. I seemed not to find very many but as I was getting halfway through my walk and there was a peaking sun that was bringing warmth to the ground and clearing up the dampness of the ground. You could see the birds in the distance ahead hopping around through the muddy and damp paths.

Even on this more quiet and less spectacular day, you feel everything closer and notice the noises around you. From the wind whistling through the trees, or the rustles that the wind brought to the brittle and dead grass and leaves around. Hearing these more clearly, made me feel as though I was noticing the sounds of nature around me. I think sometimes in society, especially nowadays, we forget to really listen to the things around us and appreciate the sounds of nature. As I even got to listen to the birds chirping in the trees, and hearing their wings flutter as they fly around.

The silence of the sky and earth around me is what made this walk enjoyable, more at one with nature and noticing the things around me. As I couldn’t hear the very busy daily life that goes on around all the cars and people but enjoy this silence and peaceful walk in the woods. I felt like I really immersed myself and saw all these pretty things and heard all the sounds that we don’t notice on a daily basis as a society.

Modern Day Distractions

For this project, my friend and I started to go on a walk in the Arboretum. There were many dirt paths to walk on. A few days before we went on a walk it rained, leading the trails to be muddy. The mud was thick, pasty, and hard to walk through. During our walk, we heard birds whistling a beautiful melody. The beautiful melody was soft and sweet. We also heard the rumbling of cars from the road nearby. As we got closer to the road it was harder to hear the animals that surrounded us. This led me to think about how busy our society has become, and it can be distracting. Nature is a beautiful thing that can get destroyed from things such as roads and houses. So often I get distracted by my phone or my headphones, that I miss seeing and hearing all the things that nature has to offer.

Wild Garlic

As we continued walking, she was able to find some wild garlic. Before this walk I would have never known that the plant I was looking at was garlic. The wild garlic was long and thin like a blade of grass. As I was waking, I was not able to smell the aroma of the plant. Once my friend plucked the plant from the ground, we could smell it and make sure it was garlic. When I smelt the wild garlic, I was surprised at how strong and overwhelming the smell was. Looking around at where we were at, I could see an abundant amount of this wild garlic. If she had not shown me this plant, I would have thought they were just normal weeds, and I would have overlooked them. This walk has taught me what they look like in case I ever wanted to find wild garlic again.

Blooming Flowers

While walking we were able to see the juxtaposition of the living and the dead plants. The beginning of spring revealed itself. There were many trees without leaves that have not bloomed yet. However, there were some trees that have blossomed. Many plants and flowers have started to grow, too. There was a cluster of flowers that caught my eye because it made a pop of color in the mist of what seemed to be a forest of dead branches. It is surprising to see some plants growing when the other plants around them are still dead. Walking down the path made me excited about the warm weather to come and the flowers that would follow. I love spring and summer because I allows me to go on more walks.

Appreciation of Nature

Overall, I had I good time taking a walk in nature with my friend. Explored the wild and took in the beautiful scenery. Animals like squirrels climbed up trees and birds flew overhead. There were sounds like the wind and the trees swaying. We touched the plants and the wild garlic that we found. I am glad that we went out on that beautiful day because I missed seeing the plants and animals during the cold winter season. This walk taught me not to overlook the little things and to appreciate the nature around us.

The Use of AI in my Post

For my Blog Post, I did not use any AI to formulate my writing. I did use the spell check on Word to make sure I did not spell anything wrong.

As I found myself wandering in the woods, it came to my attention the effect it has on my body. How often do we experience life without considering its effect on us physically? Every piece of information is input that makes me feel alive. The smells… The sounds… The tectures… Their forces combine to wrap me in the wonders of nature.

I breathe deeply. I am always surprised how the air changes when surrounded by greenery. There is nothing like it, for it is as fresh as the morning dew. It is clean. It is crisp. It is pure. Perhaps the autumnal scent of the leaves creates the pleasing aroma of the air. I never tire of this scent. With every breath it refreshes me.

As I continue to walk through the forest, I notice the sound of the leaves next. Their tune fades in and out. Sometimes a dried pile of them evoke a satisfying crunch under my feet. Other times the dampness of the leaves squashes any hope of the delightful crunch that follows me around, announcing my existence. In the respites of leaves lies the squelching mud. Squish. Squish. Squish. Its sound makes me recoil a bit as I navigate through the mud trap. No matter how carefully I step, it decorates the bottoms and sides of my shoes.

My wandering path takes me past a soft, trickling stream. As the water skips and hops across the sticks and grass, small bubbles appear and pop. I can not help but stop for a moment. There is nothing quite as comforting as the quiet pitter-patter of cascading water. To add to the water’s music, an unidentified bird happily sings in a loopdeloop manner–its voice moving steadily up and down, up and down. I enjoy its cheerful song, wishing it to show itself, but it is hidden in the forest somewhere–the mysterious musician. “Why must the creatures always hide themselves?” I wonder disappointedly. After this unexpected concert I absentmindedly continue without a care in the world until I hear a loud snap. It startles me. I look down. I stepped on a good-sized stick. My orneriness kicks in, and I purposely step on it again to hear the satisfying crack. Farther down the way, I see little tufts of green leaves. They almost look like blades of grass except when you pick them a sharp, strong scent catches your nose immediately. It is wild garlic! I repeatedly smell it, captivated by its intense scent.

On my way out of the forest, I am careful to navigate around the large clonglomerations of a hanging dead vine. A single shoot reaches toward the earth. I shake it to be polite. Its body shakes and scrapes against each other. Out of curiosity, I tug at it. Every shoot of the vine remains in place, which is preferable since it would have fallen on me if it had been unstable. As if to scold me, I hear a quick, high-pitched tch tch tch tch. I quickly look around. Again, I can not find the creature responsible for the noise. I believe it is an angry squirrel, but alas, I can not confirm it. On the bright side, in trying to find this mysterious creature, I stumble upon some strange-looking seeds. They are white, fluffy snowballs. They are so tempting. I just had to squish them. They feel like the down used for pillows–soft and bouncy.

I sigh, satisfied by the peace the forest has provided me. It has remembered me. It has sung to me. It has touched me.

Material in the Woods

I decided to embark on this nature walk journey with fellow classmate and friend Michael Crowley. Deciding on where to do this walk, we both agreed to try and complete this in the woods behind my falling apart house. After walking back, I quickly realize just how ugly it was back there. Not because of the decaying nature and all the dead plants, but because of the clutter caused from the man made material that was littered back there effected the enviroment. I could not focus on just immersing myself with the moment because of a broken mattress that was just clouding my mind.

It laid there for probably years, melting itself in the fence and melting it’s disturbing image in my mind. Ultimalty deciding to move onto the Geneseo arboretum. What is more fascinating is how strongly the perfectly built brown bench was plopped in the arboretum. It stuck out like a sore thumb. It’s wooden structure and vibrent color was not pleasent to look at in the nature. I would not typically think twice about a bench, but after seeing the mattress it made me realize just how the bench soon will end up like the mattress and rot eventually. It will ruin the natural beauty of the world one day and have to be disposed of. This little fight between material being left in nature has not gone without a fight from mother nature.

Real Nature

As I walked further into the arboretum with Michael, we come across this slanted branch that covered part of the path.

It forced us to stop, but for the first time in my journey it made my mind stop and indulge in appreciation of what is around me. Giving me the choice to turn back around or follow through under the branch in essence made me feel grateful on how I ended up here at this very moment. One branch slanted because some wind or maybe it grew in the wrong direction, has made me stop on my muddy journey through. Not put there purposefully by anyone. The branch had its own journey. There is something truly magical about that. Just like how it felt magical looking at a lonely tree right after.The tree stood tall and alone, almost like it was social distancing from the rest of the leaves and trees. Still recovering from winter with no leaves on it, its naked and unmanipulated structure gives off a yearning sense of lonliness, but also peace. It was allowed to grow and be by itself. Which reminds me of the traditional college experiance. It can feel lonley, but also a time of peaceful bliss before entering the real world. It is a time to grow on your own, which for some people is the first time that oppertunity presents itself.