I entered my spot today and there was an eerie sort of tranquility in the air. The wind was not blowing, the stream was not bubbling, and there were no animal sounds to be heard. The day seemed a little too perfect. So much so that it appeared a bit suspicious. The sky was too blue, the air too warm, and I… Well I believe I was initially too judgmental. It was sincerely was a beautiful day out. I settled down onto my blanket and prepared myself for a serene experience.

And then I heard a noise. Knock, knock, knock. A brief pause. And then the sound started again, every time becoming ever so slightly more forceful as the creature built up its confidence. I turned to find the perpetrator, but it must have been hidden. All clues pointed to it being a woodpecker though, so it will be referred to as such from now on.

Although the woodpecker disrupted the relative perfection of the day, it caused me to focus on objects I would have otherwise overlooked. Though I was looking for the bird, I instead found the remnants of fall in the area. Hues of fiery red stood out against the dwindling backdrop of orange and umber. I was amazed to see leaves still holding on despite the changing seasons.

The three objects that I decided to follow have definitely undergone some changes. The ground-covering had been completely covered by fallen leaves. When I moved them aside, I noticed the leaves of the ground-covering looked significantly duller than usual and they were limp to the touch. Additionally, the web had disappeared. I suspect that the ivy encroached on it to the point of tearing it down. The only thing left to suggest that it had been there at all was a slight residue left on nearby leaves. Finally, my tree of interest had all but lost its leaves. The only ones hanging on were yellow, verging on brown. However since its leaves, and the leaves in the general vicinity, had fallen off, I was able to note the actual span of its branches. I initially assumed that the majority of its limbs stretched across the western streambed, but it is now obvious that the majority of the branches actually lie to the North-East towards the grassy knoll behind me.

Unfortunately, there were no clouds in the sky when I went to my sit spot. As I mentioned earlier, the day was oddly perfect for November. There was a slight discoloration near the sun that made the sky appear to be lighter, but I doubt that this was an example of stratus clouds since the blue color was still so prominent. Because there were no clouds to track the movement of, I had to identify wind direction based off of what I felt on my skin and what I saw in the nearby trees. There was a very gentle current coming from my south that I determined by the movement of leaves above me. However, I distinctly felt an even softer current of wind coming from the east and saw it slightly blow grass blades behind me.

I decided to spend my focused time with my eyes closed. This is because for the first time in a week, I was able to wear a short-sleeved shirt and I wanted to revel in the last bits of warm sunlight for this year. As time went on, I started to notice delicate bird sounds to the north, nothing like the demanding sound from the woodpecker earlier. Instead I heard the gentle beating of wings against the air or soft tweets breaking the silence of the afternoon. I also heard the  distant babbling of the stream and was reminded in that moment of the beautiful bubbles that floated on top of the stream earlier like fragile pearls.

I find it interesting how the very nature of my sit-spot can impact my mood. I thought back to how energized I felt the day all the animals in my area decided to visit me, and I compared that feeling to the tranquility I felt leaving my spot today. I appreciate how something so simple can end up changing my mood for the better.