You can hear the wheels of photosynthesis grinding slower. With every breeze carries with it a handful of leaves. They swirl past my ears.
Mr. Bee, would you like to visit the goldenrod resting peacefully on the edge of a quiet pond? Or in the middle of a blowing prairie? Your options are many.
A scold of blue jays call in the deep oak forest, while the rain escorted me through. Did I mind the rain? Oh no! On the contrary, I quite like the unexpected rain in the woods.
Come on a hike with me and see the sketch in process in my nature journal:
I would like to start a nature journal club but I do not know what that will look like yet. It doesn’t have to be paintings, It can be just text. Or text and a pencil sketch. Well, for now, I’m throwing it out there. Let’s see what materializes.