The air is sweet today. It has the faintest scent of vanilla and earth. For a split second, I wondered if it was me that smelled so good, but no, it is the scent of nature.

Nature isn’t something I can easily assess. It is always full of surprises and change and laughter. It laughs because it knows that I can’t quite grasp exactly what it is or how its temperament is going to be from day to day. It keeps itself just out of my reach and always questioning. Even science has only scratched its surface, even with the many advancements of study and technology.  Nature has such a wily sense of humor, doesn’t it?

I like to walk in the woods as I did when I was younger and it’s much the same feeling then as it is now; that feeling of becoming lost, of being so enraptured by the fresh Autumnal scents, the brilliant wash of transitioning colors and the staccato of sounds coming from all directions. Time becomes obsolete.  Now, I don’t only want to be lost in nature, but I also want to try to understand what nature is.

Today, I left my camera at the apartment. I wanted to have the experience of noticing; of implanting things into my brain. I am reminded of words I read (though the authors name escapes me) that said, “If you want to remember something, the details, draw it with pencil on paper. Don’t just take a picture of it. That’s how you’ll remember.” Perhaps I didn’t get the words 100% correct, but the underlying message is something that’s stuck with me since I first read those words. Today is the day I wanted to experiment; to document my experience of leaving my camera. Already I am feeling more connected to my surroundings and I find that my head is much clearer and I can hear the sound of my own voice. My pencil to paper moment is writing this essay.

I’m sitting on a bench made of fallen tree limbs and although much of it is still sturdy and strong, a great deal of the wood has been rotted away. I like sitting here. It’s 11 o’clock in the morning and already the air is shifting to humidity and high heat. There is a beautiful haze, filtering between the leaves and with each gust, of cooler wind, trinkets of orange, red and yellow leaves fall down on my head. It makes me smile and close my eyes. There is never a moment when nature isn’t working. Doing exactly what it is supposed to do in its cycle of life. Again, I find myself asking, “What is nature?” Is it more than just trees and animals and things meant to be outside? I don’t know yet, I’ll just have to keep walking.

“In my eyes, nature is

undoubtedly female.”

I only spend a few minutes sitting on the bench because my stomach starts to growl and I still have two miles to go before I can reach my car. The thought of bringing food never entered my mind and I’m happy about that for reasons I’m not going to talking about. It’s only a reminder to me, that time isn’t as important as listening to instinct.

The deeper I go into the forest, the more dense the trail becomes. The brush is thicker, more overgrown and the bugs. OH MAN, the bugs! I try as little as possible to spray myself with bug spray because I don’t like those chemicals on my body, but I’ve since learned that at times I need to compromise. Even being heavily doused in spray, the flies and large mosquitoes won’t leave my ears alone and I keep finding myself walking into what I like to call, bug tornados. Those compacted little swarms of gnats you can’t see until you’ve run into them – face first. This is a main complaint I get from anyone who walks with me, so I usually go alone. I like it better that way.

I’ve walked for another half an hour, not writing, but rather paying particular attention to the leaves and the patterns of crisscrossing branches; noticing the little ladybugs and beetles who’ve made shelter in tree bark and the undersides of thistles. Paying attention to these little details has led me to believe that nature isn’t just something that you see, but also feel. It’s a warmth and a knowing of the familiar. It’s a sensation of returning to the womb. And now I feel that I’ve finally grasped the idea as to why nature is referred to as Mother. In my eyes, nature is undoubtedly female.

Before exiting the woods and making my way to my car, I find myself staring at a spider web. It’s bigger than the ones I’ve already passed and it just sparkles in the sun. There are twigs and small insects glued to its delicate weaving and I marvel at how such a small creature can make such a grand home. For a few minutes I’m asking myself a horde of different questions before I just stop and settle on the notion that I am just a guest in this space and I have to prove that I belong here. I have to co-exist with everything I’ve just experienced and even though I’ve been here hundreds of times before, I only now just realize that I am simply just a visitor.

On this day, I’ve come to learn that asking what nature is, is just as difficult as answering who God is. It’s something different to different people and there are no wrong or right answers. In two hours I learned quite a bit about my feelings of nature and know that it has a pivotal role in my life. I respect nature as much as I love it and know that in time (yes time,) I will undoubtedly no longer be just a visitor.