Notes from Being Outside

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The Duck Pond

March 04, 2026

Every evening at 5:00, my mom has the same routine. She walks over to her neighborhood pond with a Tupperware of duck food. And every evening at 5:00, the ducks and geese have the same routine too - they are already waiting. One day while on a walk in her neighborhood, she noticed all the different kinds of ducks and geese in the water. She started her research there, looking into what was healthy for them to eat. She began visiting them periodically. Eventually, my mom started recognizing and naming the birds. They all have different personalities. The little white ducks are always eager to walk right up. The larger geese tend to keep their distance. The ducks and geese seem to recognize her too. When she approaches the pond, they paddle their way toward the shore. As they waddle onto the grass, many of them wag their tail feathers - something ducks do when they’re excited or settling their feathers after a swim. They quack eagerly because they know exactly what time it is....

Roots in Two Places

March 03, 2026

One of my favorite trees on TCU’s campus stands alone right outside of Sadler. Its dark barky trunk stretches upward before splitting into long branches. These branches reach out in every direction, like veins spreading across the sky. Its crown is wide and healthy, revealing whoever planted the tree chose a good depth. During the winter months, the branches are mostly bare. What remains is something just as beautiful to me: small twiggy branches draping downward under the weight of the seed pods. Tree outside Sadler: I took a second glance at this tree earlier this semester when I realized it reminded me of another place entirely. Last year while studying abroad in Rome, I often took long walks along the Tiber River. The riverbanks were lined with tall plane trees. Bark peeled away, revealing smooth trunks beneath. Their branches stretched over the sidewalk and water, forming a canopy above the path. Even when bare in the winter, they gave the city a quiet live...

The Newly Annual Texas Snow

February 25, 2026

Growing up in Texas, snow came about once every five years. As a kid, there was much excitement waking up to a white backyard. It meant one thing: school canceled. A week full of freedom. And because it happened so rarely, each snow day felt nostalgic the moment it arrived. Snow created space for magic and adventure; it interrupted routine. As I’ve grown older, the snowstorms have become more frequent. Now in college, we seem to get one every year. The most memorable was 2021. My house lost power and drinking water for four days. With Zoom classes normalized, the expectation was that students could simply attend class from home. I sat wrapped in a blanket, watching my laptop battery slowly drain, and told my art teacher I couldn’t paint because I had no running water. She suggested I scoop snow from outside and let it melt. At the time, the request felt absurd. But looking back, it was less about the assignment and more about adapting. If there's a will, there's a way. Someti...

Marine Creek Lake

February 22, 2026

It was February 5th, 1:45 in the afternoon, sitting at 64 degrees (my favorite running weather) when I stood at the edge of Marine Creek Lake . Looking over the lake, I thought, no way this trail is six miles . Yet, the striking blue water stretched wider than I expected. The day's breeze created soft ripples that rushed to the shore. I heard birds somewhere in the trees, their chirps telling my ears what my eyes could not see. Every gust of wind rustled the shrubs, creating a soft shimmering sound. The tapping of my running shoes meeting the pavement settled into a rhythm coordinated with my breath. Tall stands of common reed ( Phragmites australis ) lined the water's edge. Their dry seeds rattled; the deep rust color was complimentary to the azure blue. As I continued down the path, a stretch of bald cypress trees stood bare for the winter. Dense Texas live oaks shaded an empty bench. Clusters of mistletoe clung high in the branches of taller trees. Not everything was nati...

First Entry - Go Outside After Class

January 19, 2026

After class on Tuesday, I went on an hour-and-fifteen-minute outdoor run at Trinity. Partly because I needed to move after sitting for so long, and partly because being outside gave me something to keep my focus on. The first week back is always a rough transition for me, as I have to get my entire life onto a schedule I don’t maintain over break. Running has changed the way I view the outdoors. I used to run on a treadmill (unless the day felt too beautiful to miss), but I quickly realized that I despised it. It took the joy out of running, and the exercise didn’t feed my soul. I felt like a hamster on a wheel. Running outside is no longer exercise in my mindset; it’s for the pleasure and joy of moving my body. I like to think my brain doesn’t know why I’m smiling, only that whatever I’m doing feels happy. So I let myself smile while running when no one else is around, though doing it the entire time might feel a little unsettling. Being outside changed things for me. There are t...

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