What my nature journal is teaching me

“Pied Beauty” 

by Gerard Manley Hopkins 

Glory be to God for dappled things –

     For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; 

        For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; 

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; 

     Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough; 

        And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim. 

All things counter, original, spare, strange; 

     Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) 

        With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; 

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: 

Praise him. 

I want to be a person who notices dappled things and finches’ wings. However, in recent years, I must admit that the simple, ordinary moments quickly pass me by. It’s not that I don’t care to notice. The problem arises because I am rarely willing to slow down, take a breath, and allow myself to linger in a moment. 

Sometimes I catch myself gazing at my nursing infant for an extra moment, but most often I’m multi-tasking on my phone or reviewing math facts with my first grader. I might notice birds gathering at the bird feeder, but rarely do I stop and notice their feather coloration because I’m two steps ahead packing up the car with children and belongings and reminding everyone to grab their water bottles. 

As a mother of four, there are moments that I shouldn’t slow down. God has blessed me with a full life and asks me to be a good steward of His blessings and the time He gives. Lessons must be taught, dinner must be stirred, the baby must be changed, and life must go on! 

Notice the ordinary, it may be extraordinary 

There is a way of living that is rushed, frazzled and frantic from one moment to the next without truly seeing or hearing the world around. There is another way of living, a better way in my opinion, that moves from one moment to the next (albeit, probably more slowly) and makes a deliberate choice to notice. 

Notice what? The golden haze of the sunset, the rhythmic pitter patter of the toddler’s footsteps coming down from their nap, a pollinator enjoying a newly bloomed zinnia — anything and everything. 

This realization hit me one day as I was reading Charlotte Mason’s Ourselves, Book I. She explained that there were two sorts of people — “Eyes and No-Eyes.” If you were Eyes, you could name a tree which has green leaf-buds, tell of a bird with white feathers in their tails, describe a photo in your mother’s house without leaving a single detail out, and many more questions of this sort. “If you do not know things such as these, set to work,” Mason implores. “The world is a great treasure-house full of things to be seen, and each new thing one sees is a new delight.” 

Oh, for shame! I was No-Eyes!

Hopeful to overcome my dreary fate, I adopted Charlotte Mason’s advice and have joined my children in their weekly nature journaling. Not only has it made their nature journaling time more delightful as we work alongside each other, but my journal has been a wonderful teacher for me. Here’s what I have been learning on my quest to become Eyes.

Creativity is rejuvenating 

After I spend 20 minutes lost in the pages of my nature journal, I feel renewed. Creativity is often not productive, so it gets pushed to the wayside in our culture that wants to be ever industrious. But I think we have lost a bit of ourselves in the process. 

Taking the time to keep a nature journal hasn’t made me less productive, it has simply helped creativity seep into other areas of my life. Creativity begets creativity. I am playing the piano more, experimenting in the kitchen, and even tried my hand (poorly, I confess) at writing some Hopkins-inspired poetry. God has given us the wonderful ability to create alongside Him, and He delights in our efforts to bring about beauty for beauty’s sake. 

As I have been called to stretch my creative muscles, I feel more rejuvenated and joyful in my vocation as wife and mother. Setting aside time to create makes me more, not less, productive. 

Record, reflect, and remember 

People call it “mom-brain,” and I must agree. I can so easily forget memories and moments that all seem to swirl together in the long, busy days of mothering young children. 

Taking time to record moments in nature has allowed me to remember the simple, ordinary days. I flip back in my journal and remember the box turtle my children and their friends found at the park that one Monday afternoon. After drawing the compound leaf of a black walnut tree, I am more likely to be able to identify it when out and about like an old friend. 

Drawing or painting something forces you to pay attention to the minute details of an object and learn about it in a whole new way. It allows you to look more closely, discover something new, and understand it from a fresh perspective. I can look at a black walnut tree in a book and I will likely not remember it. Allow me to touch the bark, mix just the right shade of bright green paint for its walnut husk, and take the time to get the shape of the leaves correct on a journal page, however, and I won’t forget it. 

In the same way, I’m trying to reflect and record in other parts of my life. This doesn’t happen daily for me, but my nature journal has taught me that to truly know something and remember the specifics about it, I need to have time to study, reflect, and record. 

Am I struggling with a particular child? Want to be a more-attuned friend? Hoping to strengthen my relationship with my husband? Just like in nature journaling, I need to take the time to study them. Stop and notice their complexities and challenges, virtues and strengths. Spend time making observations and recording notes. 

I might think back to the moments before my child had a meltdown and reflect on how I could have responded differently. I’m more inclined to notice what a friend gets at a coffee shop and write it down to remember for the next time I hope to treat them. I ask my husband how he has felt loved by me lately and write down his responses so I might reflect on other ways to show my care. 

Taking the time to look more deeply at a person makes a huge difference in the ability to know, love, and serve them well. 

Appreciation broadens relationship

Noticing something out on a walk, such as an acorn or cardinal feather, and taking the time to make a note or illustrate it has helped me to cultivate an eye that seeks the ordinarily beautiful. And as beauty is sought, there is an organic meeting with the Divine, for He is the Creator of all that is beautiful. 

As I draw the delicate intricacies of a dragonfly’s wing, I ponder the care that God took to make such a beautiful wing. And if He put such thoughtful design into an insect, how much more marvelously designed are we who are made in His image? 

The complex shades of blue in my daughter’s eyes and the freckles sprinkled across my son’s nose, He made it all with purpose, intent, and glorious design. 

Charlotte Mason writes in Ourselves, Book II that we should be consistent in the “patient, unflagging, day-by-day observation” of the natural world. She points out that our revelations might be old news, already discovered and accounted for in volumes of encyclopedias. That does not matter. It is now our own “personal knowledge” and by it we gain appreciation for beauty and systems of the natural world. And as a result, “reverence and awe grow upon us, and we are brought into a truer relation with the Almighty Worker.”

When we take the time to delight in the simple watercolor picture our child creates, we strengthen our relationship. Our care and attention speaks loudly to them, saying, “You matter to me. I want to learn more about you. I love you.” In this same way when we take the time to appreciate God’s marvelous design and seek it daily, we are strengthening our relationship with Him. We come to know Him better through careful attention and appreciation of His creation. 

Having eyes that truly see

I still have some work to do to be called “Eyes” instead of “No-Eyes.” And thankfully, nature journaling is stretching me in ways I would never have expected. I am learning to be more attuned to those I love, deepening my relationship with God the Creator, and feeling renewed by creativity in my day-to-day life. Before long, I hope to discover a tree that has green leaf buds and a multitude of other curiosities of our natural world. Until then, I’ll keep working to have eyes that truly see.