When Nature is Your Friend

Two years ago, we left our little city house and moved to a neighborhood in the county, with fewer houses and more trees. We did this for a number of reasons, the biggest being that I was now out on full-time disability and most of my time was spent at home. Having once lived on a one-acre lot devoid of trees, I knew the impact green has on my soul, the life-giving joy I get from trees. The Japanese recognized this some time ago; they take to nature in a practice they call “forest bathing." Isn’t that image delightful?

To me, it is impossible to feel alone when you’re surrounded by trees. They are the most welcoming and steady of friends. They talk to you through the rustle of their leaves and the creak of their branches. They lift your spirit when they dance, the wind moving some to a slow sway, while causing others to extend exuberant jazz hands from tip to trunk. They fairly twinkle when the sun hits them and shiver deliciously when rain is on the way. 

Maybe I caught this whimsical view of nature as Friend from L.M. Montgomery’s writing or maybe it soaked into me after hours spent wandering the 88 acres of my childhood home. Maybe it was the influence of John Denver’s music or the works of transcendentalists Thoreau, Emerson, and Whitman. Maybe it was the story of a boy escaping to live in the woods in My Side of the Mountain or of a girl who loved the Limberlost forest. Or maybe it was just placed in my heart by the Creator.

However I came to this love of nature and the realization that I am my best self when I’m surrounded by it, I knew my future days needed to be spent in a place of natural beauty. So we bought the house in the county, surrounded on three sides by trees. It’s lovely. I have gotten to know pine trees, which cover much of our lot, and this spring illuminated several dogwoods growing wild in the woods. 

As much as I love the beauty of nature, I am of the persuasion that bugs are a consequence of the Fall. And what our county house didn’t have was any way to enjoy the treed setting without also partaking in the less desirable aspects. So we decided to build a screened porch. Which turned into a sunroom when we stopped to consider that there will come a time when my cancer will advance and make it harder for me to leave home, but how amazing it would be to spend my days surrounded by the companionship of trees. 

So last summer and fall the sunroom got built. I thought we were building it for my future incapacity, but it turns out God knew we’d need it much sooner. I certainly hadn’t expected to be homebound for the first half of 2020, thanks, not to cancer, but to coronavirus. But God knew. And He, in His great kindness, provided for me. All spring I have spent my days in this room with three walls of windows and nothing but nature in sight. 

I really think this has preserved my mental health during the pandemic. I haven’t felt alone. Even though my husband is the only human I’ve been close enough to touch, my tree friends wave their branches at me every day. The sun throws its glitter on their leaves and the dogwoods gussy themselves up with their white and pink floral accessories. The smell of honeysuckle wafts in the open windows and the birds chirp out the soundtrack for the day.

I thought I knew why I needed a sunroom. Turns out, God knew more. I am immensely thankful.