"Apple River" (Text & Image Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
It’s not what we look at that matters; rather, it is what we see.
For those of us who live in the northwoods, surrounded by forests, lakes, ponds, streams, rivers, and waterfalls, it is easy to take these wonders for granted. The beauty that once inspired awe can become a simple backdrop to our daily routines. Yet, if we pause, we can rediscover the miracles that surround us: the chorus of birdsong in the morning air, the graceful flight of an eagle overhead, the delicate petals of wildflowers, the shimmering ripples on a quiet lake, the rhythmic rustle of a breeze through the trees. The wind itself composes a song, whispering through the pine needles, carrying the scent of earth and water.
As a child, I walked through a forest of tall Norway pines, feeling as if I had entered a cathedral. The towering trees stretched toward the sky, their branches swaying gently, filling the air with soft, melodious notes. It was a place of peace and reverence, a space where the world hushed and listened. Likewise, I remember walking along a riverbank, where the water lay still and reflective. In that quiet, I could hear the subtle music of silence—available to anyone who truly listens.
Yet, as I grew older, the rush of life swept me along. Days filled with responsibilities and distractions led me to move quickly, dashing past the same forest that once enchanted me. I no longer heard the choir of the wind, nor did I see the river’s quiet grace. Instead, I saw only trees and water—familiar, ordinary, unremarkable. It wasn’t until a moment of stillness found me, when I finally paused, that I saw it all again. A reverence washed over me, much like it had in childhood. I listened, and nature’s orchestra revealed itself once more.
Nature is a great symphony, each season composing its own music. Winter offers a hushed stillness, a quiet prelude of snow-covered landscapes and whispering winds. Spring awakens with harmonies of renewal—birds singing their bright arias, streams gurgling as ice melts away. Summer swells into a grand crescendo, alive with the buzzing of insects, the lapping of waves, the rustling of full-leaved trees. Autumn’s finale is wistful yet rich, the crisp air carrying the rustling of golden leaves, the farewell song of geese in flight.
Each of these moments is a note in the music of life. And as I grow older, I pause more often to listen—to the rhythm of the wind, the melody of the seasons, and the quiet beauty in all that surrounds me.
So, I offer you a gentle invitation: take a moment. Pause in your day. Truly see the world around you. Listen to the music that nature plays for you. Let it fill you with the wonder it has always offered, waiting for you to notice once more.
~Wylddane
For those of us who live in the northwoods, surrounded by forests, lakes, ponds, streams, rivers, and waterfalls, it is easy to take these wonders for granted. The beauty that once inspired awe can become a simple backdrop to our daily routines. Yet, if we pause, we can rediscover the miracles that surround us: the chorus of birdsong in the morning air, the graceful flight of an eagle overhead, the delicate petals of wildflowers, the shimmering ripples on a quiet lake, the rhythmic rustle of a breeze through the trees. The wind itself composes a song, whispering through the pine needles, carrying the scent of earth and water.
As a child, I walked through a forest of tall Norway pines, feeling as if I had entered a cathedral. The towering trees stretched toward the sky, their branches swaying gently, filling the air with soft, melodious notes. It was a place of peace and reverence, a space where the world hushed and listened. Likewise, I remember walking along a riverbank, where the water lay still and reflective. In that quiet, I could hear the subtle music of silence—available to anyone who truly listens.
Yet, as I grew older, the rush of life swept me along. Days filled with responsibilities and distractions led me to move quickly, dashing past the same forest that once enchanted me. I no longer heard the choir of the wind, nor did I see the river’s quiet grace. Instead, I saw only trees and water—familiar, ordinary, unremarkable. It wasn’t until a moment of stillness found me, when I finally paused, that I saw it all again. A reverence washed over me, much like it had in childhood. I listened, and nature’s orchestra revealed itself once more.
Nature is a great symphony, each season composing its own music. Winter offers a hushed stillness, a quiet prelude of snow-covered landscapes and whispering winds. Spring awakens with harmonies of renewal—birds singing their bright arias, streams gurgling as ice melts away. Summer swells into a grand crescendo, alive with the buzzing of insects, the lapping of waves, the rustling of full-leaved trees. Autumn’s finale is wistful yet rich, the crisp air carrying the rustling of golden leaves, the farewell song of geese in flight.
Each of these moments is a note in the music of life. And as I grow older, I pause more often to listen—to the rhythm of the wind, the melody of the seasons, and the quiet beauty in all that surrounds me.
So, I offer you a gentle invitation: take a moment. Pause in your day. Truly see the world around you. Listen to the music that nature plays for you. Let it fill you with the wonder it has always offered, waiting for you to notice once more.
~Wylddane
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