Today in a walk in an urban preserve, what nature offered was a stark contrast to what many humans offered. Nature offered examples of beauty and harmony. Humans, not so much today. I am grateful for nature’s gifts this afternoon, and I’m hoping for all of us to make more progress toward an attentive and respectful relationship with nature (and with other people).

Butterflies and dragonflies are still active at the preserve. A hard freeze is just days away, and these insects bring their beauty and their skillful flight as if today’s warmth was the only reality. They’re right – today, this day right now is the only reality and they were making full use of it.

A young juniper growing in the shelter of an oak tree’s trunk brought to mind the harmony and tolerance that humans sometimes fail to have. I’m aware that the oak did not invite the juniper, and that the oak will take water, nutrients, and sunlight without much regard for its small neighbor. Regardless of intentions, they grew side by side and appear to be thriving.

Every winter, a little below the crown of the hill, standing cypress begins to grow. They first emerge as feathery green rosettes, and they grow through the winter and spring. Eventually they produce a spike of the most beautiful red flowers before dying back later in the year. When everything else seems doubtful, standing cypress won’t let you down.

Maybe standing cypress isn’t high on everyone’s list of priorities. We need an affordable place to live, and we need people who are willing to set aside their momentary impulses and follow rules for the good of the community. Next to that, being able to count on a plant’s annual re-emergence might not seem like much. But the more other things fall apart, the more valuable seem the parts of the world that are dependable.

I sat on a boulder in the warm sunshine and wrote a little in the journal. The temperature had reached the middle 60s in the shade, and sitting there in a t-shirt, the radiant sun felt great. Then it was down the trail to the big pond. There were a few places where some leaves still held on to some color, and the sun shining through them was like nature’s stained glass.

I ended up at one of the other ponds, watching the low sun light up the trees at the end of the day. It was a time of day that felt quiet. I had not heard any birds (with my ears or with the Merlin app) during my walk, and no turtles were basking at the pond. The water was still, and everything seemed hushed. Was the preserve ready for a rest? I know that communities of invertebrates, fish, and other animals continue their activities into the night. I also know that the one who was ready for a rest, after unleashed dogs, unruly dogs, and dirt bikes that have no business in a preserve, was me. The peace of a quiet pond was a welcome end to my walk.