I arrived at my sit spot in the afternoon on a windy, cloudless day. At first, all I could hear was the distant hum of a motor as I attempted to concentrate on my surroundings. After a few minutes I was able to tune it out, and I recognized all the sounds characteristic of my sit spot – cars driving on the road behind me, the trickle of Carvin Creek, and the various bird calls. I could also hear all the signs that squirrels were present – chittering, the rustling of leaves, a scraping sound. The squirrels were undoubtedly active, even though they refused to give me the satisfaction of an interesting journal entry. A few times I noticed them in the woods – one was perched on a fallen log, and three others were scampering along the wooded slope – before they disappeared further into the forest. As I stared into the woods, I noticed these pale insects flying around in front of me. I’m sure that I only noticed them because the sun illuminated them – they darted in and out of my line of sight, but occasionally one flew close enough for me to make out its wings blurring together. It was surprising, since I thought most invertebrates were supposed to be dormant at these temperatures.

The sky was cloudless, but a gust of wind occasionally blew from the north. I would start to feel warm for a few minutes, and then the wind would pick up again, whisking away my warm boundary layer. As much as I enjoyed spending time in my sit spot, I prefer walking around as I can enjoy my surroundings while still generating enough heat to keep myself mildly warm.

For my ten minutes of observation, I decided to listen with my eyes closed. Almost immediately, I heard a light tapping sound and couldn’t resist the urge to open my eyes. There was a woodpecker high up in a tree to the south of my sit spot; she tapped at the tree steadily except to take brief pauses. After a few minutes of this, she began to scale the tree until she reached its highest branches. Then she spread her wings and flew to the neighboring tree, at which point I lost sight of her. Returning to my auditory observations, I listened intently for the bird calls that were so prevalent around my sit spot. I recognized some of the bird calls from my last blog post – including some new bird calls that sounded like several alarms going off at once, which I’m assuming were blue jays. However, this time the bird calls were less frequent and my sit spot was overall much quieter than it had been in my previous blog post.

When the animals were silent, so was my sit spot. The few sounds I could hear were mostly generated by humans, such as the lawn mower and the passing cars. When I checked the progress of the tomatillo plants, I noticed that they were still present beside the stream. Although I’m not sure plants is a word I would use… they were dead organic matter at this point. Their stems, brittle and weakened by the burden of winter, were bent towards the ground. It looked as if they’d been blown over by a strong wind.

First blog post

Now

This was an enjoyable assignment. It was uplifting to spend time in my sit spot in between classes and homework assignments, especially since being indoors most of the time can feel very alienating. Paying close attention to my natural surroundings helped me gain a sense of place, especially since I didn’t grow up in this area. I really began to think of it as “my” place, and I started to go there even on days when it wasn’t a requirement. I know that I will return to my sit spot in the future and continue observing the seasonal changes that occur as my sit spot transitions from winter to spring.