Before I get started, I would just like to acknowledge that this was by far the most interesting, and slightly terrifying, sit spot entry I have done so far. I do not recommend doing your sit spot alone in the dark unless you feel thoroughly prepared. With that, let’s get started!

I arrived at my sit spot at 4:55 pm, unpacked my backpack, and laid out what I needed on the bench. This consisted of my journal, a pen that wouldn’t work, a pencil, and a cookie I brought along for good measure. I spent 15 minutes observing my surroundings and getting in tune with the garden ecosystem. The sun was preparing to set, and its golden light scattered through the surrounding trees and across the garden. The scene was quiet and peaceful. The air was initially warm when I arrived, but quickly gained a chill as the sun set, and I was glad a brought along my sweatshirt. I soon realized I would probably still be finishing when it got dark, but I wasn’t worried.

I watched the sun set behind the horizon to east, leaving behind only it’s golden glow. It was very beautiful. I listened to all of the new sounds the garden had to offer, as I have never been there after sunset. The crickets chirped, but slowly and softly, more like a lullaby than their typical song. Leaves rustled here and there, and I watched as a pair of squirrels chased each other around and out of sight. A tiny bird explored under a large bush to my west.  I heard a few random noises in the wooded area to my south, but did not recognize them. There had been a couple water striders on the surface of the stream when I first arrived, but they quickly disappeared, as did the bugs and gnats that I had seen upon my arrival. The person who had been crunching to my far west behind the bushes left, and I felt alone, but in a peaceful way. The sun’s glow still illuminated the horizon and some of the sky, which began to darken slightly. I heard chittering in the woods to my south, but missed what it was from. A racoon, maybe? Who knows!

It began to get colder and darker, and I became more eager to go back to my room and bundle up in my fluffy blanket, but I told myself to remain focused on the task at hand. I observed my three objects/organisms for changes, and noticed that the stream’s water level seemed a bit higher than the last time. What I was very surprised to see was that all of the algae that had been spreading uncontrollably, even up until last week, was basically gone. There was little to none left. Where did it all go? The dead leaves were still at the bottom of the water, so it’s not like the grounds crew cleaned the stream… it’s a mystery! Additionally, all of the tall plants and grasses in the large flower bed on the other side of the stream had been trampled. It looked as though they had been flattened by a hurricane. How odd!

I noticed when I had first entered my spot that something felt off about the whole general area surrounding the bench, but even after I had been there a while, I couldn’t place it. It just felt…emptier. But I didn’t actually notice anything missing, either. The Virginia sweetspires looked similar to when I last visited, and have now lost all but a few leaves, which have turned a deep purple color. The oak has also remained similar, still clinging on to its shriveled, brown leaves, although it has lost a small amount of them since my last visit, a detail that would not have been noticeable had I not seen them all over the ground underneath.

I spent 10 minutes observing the sky, but there were no clouds present, so there really wasn’t much to report. I saw a couple tiny birds fly overhead, which reminded me of all the past summers I spent watching brownie bats fly overhead at dusk back home. The sky got darker as I watched, and although there was little to no breeze, the chill in the air became crisper. My fingers began to tingle, and I regretted not bringing gloves, despite that it had been so warm when I had left my room.

I spent 10 more minutes observing my surroundings with my eyes closed, something that probably was the best idea given the situation and the fact that it was just getting darker out, but at the time I had felt like it was just the next step in my focus. This was a very unsettling experience, and it took me a few minutes to stop whipping my head around every time I heard a slight crack or crunch in the leaves. I soon realized I was being paranoid, as every time I turned to look nothing was actually there. With so many leaves, they end up just crunching. Not to mention the squirrels that act like ninjas: here one second, gone the next. I finally settled in. The air got colder still, and my ears began to get cold. I listened to the crunches and the crickets for a few minutes. A rustle came from the stream and startled me, followed by the crunching footsteps of an unknown creature by the chapel wall. I didn’t think too much of it at this point, and it was far enough away to not matter too much anyway. Two small splashes in the stream directly in front of me caused my eyes to snap open, but all I saw were ripples, so I closed them again. I heard footsteps in the woods behind me. They halted, walked a bit more, then halted again, reminding me of a deer’s walk. The faint, unrecognizable call of some unknown critter echoed faintly from by the chapel, and I assumed this is whatever had been crunching through the leaves earlier. It still was a ways away, so I didn’t think too much about it, other than that I had never heard that call before.

I could hear the sounds of cars and horns on the highway as my surroundings suddenly fell eerily silent and my fingers began to grow slightly numb. I decided it had been about 10 minutes, and that I would open my eyes. I looked around, and immediately noticed it had gotten a lot darker in those last 10 minutes. I heard the faint crunching from near the chapel again, but this time it sounded much closer. I looked up, and caught a glimpse of movement behind the bush across the stream from me. I froze, slowly stretching my neck to see what it was. It emerged right across the stream from me, its black, fur coated body slowly meandering along, the large white spot on its head its only indicator it was even there. It was a skunk. I sighed and settled back, keeping an eye on the wandering skunk, assuming it would just keep walking. But it didn’t. Instead, it suddenly turned toward me, a movement that startled me. I watched as it made its way closer to the stream, then picked up pace and began crossing it. I tried not to panic, as it got closer and closer, walking directly toward me, assuming it just hadn’t noticed I was there. And that’s when it looked up and stared dead into my eyes, and took two more steps forward.

It stopped about 6 feet from me, and just stared at my face for a moment. Then it continued to cross the stream, and as my heart began involuntarily pounding out of my chest, it walked straight past the bench. I relaxed. I watched as it slowly picked up pace, and when it was about 20 feet past me, took off like a bullet into the woods. I figured it had finally caught my scent and been scared away. I was writing about this experience in my journal, barely able to see my own writing, when I heard running footsteps behind me. I turned around to see the skunk barreling toward me. This time I was definitely concerned. Why was it coming back? And why was it running back? It bolted around the bench to my left, where it had passed by before, and quickly turned to stare at me again. It lifted its head and twitched its nose, sniffing the air around me. I froze. It was even closer than last time, roughly 5 feet away. I knew any sudden movements could spook it, and the last thing I was in the mood for was to be sprayed by a skunk… It continued to just stare at me, and I wondered if I said something quietly if that would alert it just enough that it would walk away. So like any normal person in this situation, I said, “hi”. It took one small step forward and continued to stare at me, then in one spinning motion turned itself around on the spot, its tail facing directly at me.

I was positive I was about to be sprayed, and started trying to come up with the best escape route I could take without making the situation worse. But it didn’t lift its tail, it just started to waddle away. It waddled back towards the woods a bit, then turned and walked across the field behind me. I lost track of where it was, as it had become fully dark at this point, and decided I really needed to finish my journal entry. I was finishing writing about the skunk stand-off when I heard it running behind me again, and decided it was time to go. I checked the time, which read 6:05 pm. I looked at my checklist and saw that I had just finished the last requirement, packed up my gear, and with numb fingers and chattering teeth, hightailed it out of skunk territory. I got halfway back to Tinker before realizing I couldn’t find my keys, so I went back to the garden, just to realize they were in my backpack. There was no skunk in sight, and I made my way back to my room thinking, “jeez, they’re right… they really will come right up to you!”

(Sadly I did not get any pictures of the skunk, as it was too dark out and my phone wouldn’t pick up on anything but black. You’ll just have to trust me on this one).