There is something so joyful about the little routine I’ve built around my bird feeders.
I get so excited watching the birds dart in and out. Some days the squirrels inevitably try to steal the show, while my deer patiently wait beneath the feeders for whatever the birds leave behind.
Eventually my attention drifts upward.
I look into the trees, marveling at them the way I imagine a curious child might. Their branches stretch confidently toward the sky while their leaves dance with every passing breeze, each movement subtly changing the song they seem to be playing. Before I realize it, I’ve started swaying too, almost as though the breeze has invited me into the dance.
The wind moving through the leaves.
A woodpecker somewhere beyond the trees.
The scent of damp earth after rain.
Sunlight filtering through the branches in a way no stained-glass window could ever quite imitate.
Without trying, I become present.
There is something about trees that has always lifted something inside me. They have a way of quieting the noise in my mind while awakening something in my spirit.
Now I find myself wondering which birds will visit today, whether my deer came by overnight, or whether the woodpecker is somewhere nearby announcing himself from a tree I still haven’t managed to find. Somewhere along the way, these ordinary little moments became something I greatly look forward to each day.
Dallas has begun looking for them with me. She’ll point toward the feeder before I even notice who’s arrived, as though she’s reminding me to pay attention. I love that these quiet little moments have become part of our days together. My hope is that long after she’s grown, she’ll remember slowing down long enough to notice the birds, the squirrels, the deer, and the trees. I hope she’ll always know that wonder is worth making time for.
Trees, like a good friend, are good to be around.
Research suggests there is good reason for that feeling. Spending time in nature has been associated with lower stress levels, improved focus, greater creativity, and even increased empathy. Simply being among trees has been shown to lower blood pressure and heart rate, gently reminding our bodies of a rhythm they seem to recognize.
After all, we were never designed to spend every waking hour beneath fluorescent lights, staring at glowing rectangles. Long before there were offices, highways, and smartphones, there were forests. There were rivers. There were birds greeting the morning before alarm clocks ever existed.
Maybe our bodies remember something our schedules have forgotten.
The next time life begins to feel impossibly loud, consider stepping outside before reaching for another solution.
You may discover that the trees have been quietly preaching peace all along.