The inescapable truth about the natural world is that it is governed by cyclical patterns. It doesn’t really matter where on Earth you live, there is a rhythm to the world. Now, it is certainly true there may be some rhythms that are more pronounced and dramatic than others, but I think you would be hard-pressed to find a place that was the “same” day after day.
Here in the mid levels of the Temperate Zone, we are experiencing a familiar old cycle. The days are getting shorter, the birds have clammed up, and the insects are starting to take center stage. In just a couple weeks, the human world will see students starting to return to schools, colleges and universities. The evenings will start to get crisp, and before you know it, we will be commenting on the fall foliage and the need to start stacking firewood for the winter.
However, there is still some time left in what I call “Deep Summer,” and we shouldn’t let our thoughts of the future obscure the simple beauty of the present. In fact, now that I’ve thought that thought, I am going to embrace my own idea by taking my computer out onto the deck where I can embrace the splendor of August. This shouldn’t take a moment, so just bear with me.
By the Hammer of Thor, what a difference. It’s a breezy August afternoon with a sky that shows only the palest shade of blue peeking between cumulus clouds that are impossible to look at without feeling good. After that wave of weather that brought heat, oppressive humidity and gully washers down upon us, the feeling of 80-degree air with a gentle breeze and noticeably lowering humidity is simply delicious.
But the thing I find so inescapably conspicuous is the near total lack of birdsong. In fact, there is almost no “birdsound” out there either. Things have gotten really, really quiet, and the only exception to this rule is the young hairy woodpecker that just made his first foray to my bird feeders a couple days ago. He is loud and completely swept up in the sort of excitement that can easily be confused with flustered panic if you don’t know what’s going on. This little character is here right now making a smile-inducing racket as he calls his father for something to eat.
This one little firecracker aside, however, is not enough to change the feeling of August. These days are so quiet they seem as though they were designed for contemplation. Every August I find myself looking upward less and downward more. I start to notice the “little” creatures and the obscure little weeds that have been hiding in plain sight all summer. Ultimately, this quiet contemplation of the secret treasures that abound around us will lead to a good long look inward as well. It isn’t always easy to find the time to do this, but I think it is valuable.
For me, right at this moment, the only manmade sounds I hear are the whispered little “clicks” of the keys on my keyboard. Most of what I hear is the wind through the leaves of the trees, the unusual sound of rushing water coming up from the rain-fed stream down in the woods and the new sound of daytime crickets and insects whining out their declarations of amore across the sunny summer meadow of Eros. There is nothing “human” about what I’m experiencing and I am very relaxed.
I won’t presume to tell you what to think in moments like this, but I would encourage you to put yourself in a quiet place and let your mind start to wander. The only condition is that you don’t bring your phone with you. Pick up a field guide to flowers, or one of John Muir’s many books on his appreciation of nature and immerse yourself in the outdoors. Take the time to give a close look to an unfamiliar mushroom or notice the quiet movements of an unfamiliar bird going about its quiet business. Let yourself become a part of the background; an unobtrusive observer of the world around you.
To encourage this sort of behavior, I give you a photo of a chicory flower. This species likes to unfurl its blossoms in the morning hours. By lunchtime, they will be noticeably wilted and “worn out.” They are a mesmerizingly beautiful shade of blue and when you get up close to them, they are exquisitely intricate. These small flowers (about the diameter of a 50-cent coin) are extremely attractive to the really tiny pollinators that help so many of our flowers reproduce.
The fly in this photo is the same sort of hoverfly featured in last week’s column and about the size of a grain of rice. If this species lives in your area (and I am almost certain it does), I am sure you will see one drawn to the luxury of a chicory flower. Here’s a challenge for you: See if you can find the same flower and then observe the same fly as I have. In the process of quietly looking and waiting, you may discover that your mind starts to ponder interesting questions, and if that happens, you will have achieved the goal of this challenge.
The quiet, unengaged mind will allow creativity to creep into your thoughts. You may suddenly have an epiphany regarding something in your life, or you may simply give your mind the chance to rest, relax and take a vacation from all the tumult that surrounds us in this modern age. It doesn’t matter if you are sitting in a meadow, or under a tree in the forest. Sitting next to a stream, or resting in a motionless canoe that is floating among the lily pads is equally nice. Give your brain a vacation and you may find that you are rewarded with a good night’s sleep and an inexplicable sense of happiness the following day. There are two weeks left in August. Use them wisely.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 21 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks, and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.