reflections on my backyard

notes on watering your own grass and appreciating the ground under your feet

in our current hyper-connected, chronically online atmosphere, we seem to always long for the life that someone else has. this looks different for everyone, but without realizing it we end up devaluing the magic that already exists in our lives in favour of a new or different magic that we assume someone else has found first. in my case, two years ago i was living in a 400sq ft apartment in toronto, dreaming about living in the woods. each new person i found that seemed to have achieved this already made me feel worse about my chances at experiencing the life i longed for. as if there were a finite number of houses in the woods and they had all been bought up. this was not the case.

back to the apartment in the city. we loved this apartment for all the years we lived there, and we made a conscious effort to appreciate every part of that life. this was a one-time experience that lots of people wish for, and we wanted to give it the admiration it deserved. our long term goals never changed. we planned how to move out of the city constantly because we knew what we ultimately wanted was more space and clean air, the freedom to sit outside and listen to the birds and nothing else, wood fires keeping us warm, and real seasons that weren’t interrupted by the light and heat and pollution of the city.

spoiler: we found a cottage in the woods. except that at over 100 years old it was almost condemned, with rotten joists and asbestos. neglected for almost 20 years, unwinterized and plastered with quick, somehow equally neglectful bandaids that we then spent the next year fixing. we’re far from done, but the cottage is warm, livable, and loved. things it hadn’t experienced for a single day with its previous owner.

and here’s the thing i really wish everyone knew: the grass is greener where you water it. there is much to love and appreciate about where you are now, and the earth is our oldest teacher.

where we’re located is in the middle of a vital stopover for the migratory paths of hundreds of birds, but i would have never known that if i wasnt prioritizing listening to the birds every day. these days i spend a significant part of my morning checking in with the birds ive been tracking (poor birds honestly, they get no privacy now) and our most unexpected sighting recently was a bald eagle over the lake. we’ve seen loons, cormorants, and trumpeter swans on the lake this year, and our backyard is just starting to wake up. the mourning doves stuck around all winter, as did most of the woodpeckers, but they are now joined with hundreds of little junkos, many many grackles (they deserve love too) and finally, very recently, red winged black birds and robins are here to welcome spring.

after a really great winter, im also ready to welcome spring. my patience holds until the equinox, at which point i forget where i live (the land of fake spring in march) and i wake up every morning increasingly hopeful that today will be the day the temperature stays above 8 degrees. hasnt happened yet, but what is life without hope? im manifesting. and spring wont come any sooner if im upset about it. nothing green has sprouted yet, but the lake is thawing and the snow is slowly melting, and soon the lily of the valley and the violets will be back in full force, and soon after that the clover in our lawn will return, and each day after that will be greener than the last, and i will have enjoyed every second of watching the earth wake up at its own pace.

instead of lamenting all of the work that is yet to be done on this property, im trying to make a very intentional effort to learn about and appreciate (romantisize, perhaps?) the different lives that call this land home and what part i can play in helping them thrive. my goal is to move through this life as slowly as possible, taking the time to learn about the birds, fish, animals, trees and plants that surround me rather than feel overwhelmed and behind just because there is still work to be done. spring is a time to plan. to plant seeds, prune for new growth, and trust your own instincts as a creature on this earth. the things we hope for happen in their own time, unable to be forced, and the beauty of life is in the journey.

love from the woods,

emily