In science, we like to make up rules and categories. We then turn these into classification systems. (I find it relaxing to sort things.) When you look at the natural world, do you find yourself noticing differences or similarities? Or perhaps you simply enjoy the view? When I started on my dailyish walking, I intentionally chose to follow the same route. The sameness of it allowed me to start seeing the patterns and similarities, which equally helped me to see what was different and out of place.
Your prompts for this week
Monday
If there are still leaves on the ground, collect a few. If you can, find some from different trees. If the weather is good enough, trace their outline into your notebook and leave the leaf behind. Otherwise, bring the leaves home with you and trace them where it's dry.
Tuesday
Trees are much easier to identify to the species when they're wearing their leaves. But there are clues too in the branches. Look at the tips for buds. Write down what you see. Now, find another tree and see if the same applies. Are the buds light or dark? Fat or skinny? Do they appear in opposite pairs, or do they alternate?
Wednesday
Today, find something to count. Perhaps steps, perhaps trees, perhaps intersections. Anything you'd like, but count the same thing from beginning to end. If you get distracted, like I do, you might find it helpful to have a little notebook to keep track. At the end of the walk, represent this information as petals on a field of flowers. If you counted a lot of things, perhaps colour could represent groups of 10s or 100s. Be as accurate as you can.
Thursday
Choose a colour as you head out the door. Now, look for things that are this colour throughout your walk. If need-be, be creative, for you are essentially playing grown-up eye-spy. Perhaps it's the reflection of your jacket, or a spot of lichen? Do you find you notice your colour more if you use soft eyes to scan your surroundings, or more so when you are very focused and methodical?
Friday
When nature chooses how things go together, it's often in small communities. Kindred spirits, perhaps, but also the basic mechanics of seed dispersal. Today, look for how similar things are grouped together. How is it different from when humans have intervened?
Saturday
If today had a colour associated with its sound, what would it be? What would the shape of today's sound be? What does your sound look like?
Sunday
If trees had hair instead of leaves, how would the hair look on the trees? Would it be soft flowing curls, a perfectly straight bob cut, or the tiniest ringlets that held their own form? If trees wore hair instead of leaves, what colour would it be?
Observations for the week
The hair prompt was a response to looking at beech trees. In winter, their bare branches delicately zig and zag towards the tip, as if a speed skater had carved the shape of the branches through the air. The canopy of a beech tree forest has the darkest shade of any forest in Britain. Unlike the dappled sunlight of an oak tree forest, a beech tree forest floor gives very little light to the undergrowth. Watching the swaying branches of the leaf-less beech reminded me of a long mane of wispy hair.
The second time around
The first time you read this set of prompts, you may have noticed a reference to "soft eyes". I was first introduced to the term (approximately a long time ago) in Sally Swift's book Centered Riding. Turns out? It's a thing outside of riding too! Even you don't ride, I feel the four principles she taught are a good approach to life.
The lichen in the header photo is a common sight on Dartmoor. It's a member of the beard lichen family (Usnea). The latest research reports that even after it's been detached from its host, it's still alive. In winter, it's the hair that remains on the trees once the leaves are gone.
Things you might like to read
Who has seen the wind by Christina Rossetti. A short poem that is worth having on the tip of your tongue as you head into the windiest days. You can read it for free here.
Previously, we recommended Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. This week, I must also recommend Gathering Moss. It was this book which renewed my excitement for lichen by giving me permission to use whatever name I liked. The common and scientific names could follow, once I'd learned to use my own names consistently.
You can also use our affiliate link to purchase Gathering Moss from Bookshop. By using the links in this paragraph, we may earn a commission from Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookshops.