A Season in Bloom

Observing More, Scrolling Less

Earlier this month, my family gathered in Memphis to celebrate Easter weekend. As we made our way south to my brother Nick’s home, I felt like I’d been fast-forwarded into a different season entirely–one where spring already settled in and summer was peeking around the corner.

Memphis is a few weeks ahead of Champaign-Urbana seasonally, so arriving there felt like getting a preview of what I could look forward to back home in the near future. The blooms on his trees had already come and gone, replaced with leaves. Rose bushes swayed gently in the breeze, the wind chimes made light music in the background and birds chirped beautiful songs. It felt like stepping into the real-life setting of The Secret Garden.

This is just one angle of my brother Nick’s backyard. Talk about a beautiful, serene space to reconnect to yourself and find peace.

While I found ways to appreciate the winter this year (read more about that here), I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled to welcome back the sunshine and longer days.

Just as I’m in the process of swapping out my wardrobe and slowly changing out my seasonal decor, I can feel something else shifting–my attention, my energy and my mood.

These days, I feel an undeniable pull to spend time outdoors. Yes, I’m still aiming for regular gym visits, but more often than not, I find myself lacing up my sneakers for a walk through my neighborhood or a nearby park. It’s become more than exercise–walking has turned into a sacred ritual. A meditation in movement.

As I walk, I notice everything: the budding trees, the subtle warmth on my skin and the way the light is stretching longer into the evening. Spring is unfolding right in front of us—if we take the time to look.

Spring has been quietly nudging me to slow down, look closer and soak it all in. I’m noticing things I’ve rushed past before—soft blossoms on trees, birds singing to one another and how light filters through branches. These small observations have become daily reminders to be present and to find peace in the rhythm of nature.

Lately, two things have been anchoring me to this feeling: the images I’ve captured along the way and the moments I’ve spent reconnecting with the outdoors in intentional ways.

Documenting the Beauty Around Me

A few weeks ago at Nick’s house, I found myself with a rare gift–an afternoon of quiet, just for me. I sat on his back porch with a book in my lap and a coffee nearby and I let myself be still. I watched yellow finches flit between the branches and the bird feeder, felt the breeze rustle through the trees and took in the late spring landscape of his backyard in full bloom.

As I often do when a moment feels special and fleeting, I grabbed my phone to snap a few photos–not to post, but to keep. It was a small attempt to bottle the feeling, to preserve the magic of that afternoon for when I’d want to return to it later.

That tendency to preserve beauty has become second nature to me. My camera roll is overflowing with images from walks, backyards, parks—moments that speak to me. I could delete them. But instead, I increased my iCloud storage, because I couldn’t bear to part with them. These photos are my time capsules.

Two years ago, I started using the Five Minute Journal app to record what I’m grateful for each day. Whenever possible, I add an image from that day: a blooming tree, a sunset or a selfie of me on a walk. These photos act as visual companions to my memories–proof that I was there, that the season was real and the beauty happened.

Easter in Memphis was peaceful, relaxing and a great way to be together as a family. And the time outside and with each other made it even more special.

I think that’s why I’m so drawn to both writing and photography. They’re ways of preserving the impermanent. As a deeply sentimental person, I’ve always struggled with how quickly a moment can slip into memory. The act of documenting helps me hold on a little longer.

In this season, I find myself especially grateful for the metaphorical and literal ways I’ve come home. Living with my parents again has brought a new rhythm to my days. We’ve slipped into a routine that feels comforting and familiar, even as we’ve all changed since I last lived at home as a teenager. The bird returning to the nest may be older now, but the songs we sing are still rooted in love, resilience and support.

And maybe that’s what spring reminds me of the most: the way life returns, sometimes in different forms, but always offering a chance to begin again.

Finding Quiet in a Noisy World

Time feels like it’s on fast-forward lately. May is nearly here and summer is close behind. Another trip around the sun for me will come in August, and part of me is still catching up to April. While I could spiral about how quickly time moves (and sometimes I do), there’s another part of me—the quieter, steadier version—that reminds me to stay here. To pause. To appreciate this moment, right now.

Last week, I joined the CU Girls Who Walk group (read about my first event with them here–and if you’re local, come walk with me!) on a guided nature walk through Meadowbrook Park for Earth Day. I’m a frequent afternoon walker, but this evening walk was special change in scenery. Walking through prairie lands, learning about the native plants and wildlife, and moving in step with other women who share a love for nature and connection was just what I needed.

As the sun set and deer darted through the open fields, I imagined the land as it once was, centuries ago. No artificial noise, no notifications. Just the natural world doing what it’s always done. Something about that moment quieted the noise in my own mind. The stress from earlier in the day faded and I felt a little lighter.

Just a few more photos of season I'm in, outside as the trees are in bloom! P.S. Can you spot the deer?

Lately, I’ve been in a bit of a mental funk. Not as deep as past seasons, which I’m thankful for, but enough to feel off. I think part of it stems from how overwhelming the world can feel. The constant flood of headlines, the opinion pieces and the heartache I see on my phone leaves me feeling helpless and disconnected.

As I feel myself slipping into the old habit of doomscrolling again (you can read more about my experience here), I know it’s time to unplug, lace up my shoes, and get outside.

This isn’t about ignoring what’s happening in the world. But it is about protecting my peace. The endless cycle of fear and outrage isn’t something I can carry every day. And when I remember that, I can choose differently. I can set down my phone. Step outside. Watch the birds. Feel the sun on my face. Reclaim a little stillness.

This spring, I’m making small but meaningful choices to spend my time in gentler ways. I plan to attend more CU Girls Who Walk events. I’m curious about joining a nature journaling club at Allerton Park or going to one of the outdoor yoga events. I’ll keep snapping photos of things I want to remember—sunrises, flowers or a quiet path on a Tuesday afternoon. I’ll keep writing what I’m grateful for. And I’ll remind myself, as often as I need to, that I am resilient. That I can move through this season and whatever comes next.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve also felt the weight of everything, take this as your invitation: Step away from the scroll. Breathe in the fresh air. Let yourself be here, now. Notice the light, the sounds, the warmth. Document what moves you, if you want. Or just sit still and soak it in.

Wherever you are in your life, there’s beauty to be found in this exact moment, in the season you’re in.