Happy Spring! As the season changes to spring in the northern hemisphere I pause to notice what is going on around me. As the bare winter trees begin to wake up one by one, you might notice: who's first. In March, I see the Western Redbud ( Cercis occidentalis ) has transformed from bare zig-zaggy stems to fully covered with clusters of tiny pink pea-like blossoms! I've been patiently waiting for them because they are feast for the eyes as well as the tastebuds! On this parti

I love seeing deciduous trees when they have lost most of their leaves, with bare branches in the winter. So much is revealed now, that was previously hidden by a lush coat of foliage. We can learn to read their story: We can see the true forms, branching structures of the trees, the scars that tell of their history, or abandoned nests of animals who used this this as home. As I walk around in nature, I am drawn to notice that each species of tree has a distinctive shape to

I use my journal as scratchpaper for my conversations with nature, allowing things to fall on the page perfectly imperfectly! This past Sunday, fourteen of us made a conscious choice: to create space inside our very full lives and answer the craving for time for ourselves, creativity, nature, and community . So we gathered for The Slow Page Retreat. Arriving Into Beauty Our drive into the St. Francis Retreat Center felt like passing through the threshold into a quieter worl

One of the practices I return to again and again—both in my teaching and in my own life—is the simple act of welcoming curiosity. When I’m guiding a nature journaling class, I often invite participants to write down any questions that arise as we explore: Why does this plant grow here? Who made these tracks? What is this bird doing? The purpose isn’t to find the answer right away . In fact, the goal is the opposite. Letting curiosity expand When we give ourselves permission