After witnessing the horrific assault on our nation’s capitol by Donald Trump’s mob, I felt an urgent need to do something life affirming, so I visited one of my favorite spots in nature.

One of the things I love about visiting a favorite place in nature are the chimerical like changes that it undergoes throughout the seasons. Nowhere is this more evident than at Bullfrog Pond in Shiloh Regional Park. I’ve written about this place before but each time I return, it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.

Huge oak trees dot the hillsides that ring the pond, they stand in stark contrast against the washed out and uniformly gray winter sky. The sun is a spectral disc trying in vain to break through the overcast. A delicate veil of fog clings to the tops of the oaks where a huge hawk is perched, barely visible through the mist. The parched brown hillsides of summer and fall have given way to a carpet of hopeful green, winter rains having finally awakened the grasses from their long slumber.

It is so still, so quiet here today. The trees and bushes are stoic. The pond is a perfect green mirror, it’s surface unmarred by even the slightest of breezes. I can hear the chatter of an acorn woodpecker, the shrill whistling call of a red shouldered hawk, the rhythmic rapping of a woodpecker, the chit and chatter of a Stellar’s Jay. The resident black phoebe announces its arrival with a “chip, chip” as it captures an insect in mid-air.

The sun briefly breaks through the cloud cover and illuminates a large heart shaped spider’s web bejeweled with droplets from this morning’s rain. The many willows that surround the pond are naked and bony, their brown and yellowed leaves cover the ground beneath my feet. I breathe deeply and fill my lungs with the perfumed air, it smells of mud and sage, decay and rebirth.

Out of nowhere a coyote appears. It trots casually through this scene no more than 30 yards from where I sit. It stops and we briefly lock eyes, then it continues on its way. Seeing one of these animals in its natural habitat is a special occurrence that never gets old. From its pointy snout through the many browns and grays of its body to its black tipped tail this coyote is a stunningly beautiful animal.

The overcast is beginning to break up, the sky now more blue than cloud. A slight breeze picks up cooling the sweat on my back from the hike in. I sit in the midst of all this wonder, grateful for the day, grateful to be alive.