There’s a certain kind of quiet magic in the way spring arrives. One day you open your window for a few minutes to air the room and you catch a birdsong for the first time in months. Maybe you leave your house and, the moment you step outside, you just know you’ve taken the first gulp of spring air. And on a random Thursday you’ll wake up at the same early hour as always and won’t need to turn the light on anymore—the daylight will sift into the room from outside.
As those first subtle whispers of spring float through the air while we’re still wrapping ourselves in scarves out of habit, we start noticing hints—small clues predicting warmer, brighter days just around the corner. I always feel my whole body responding to these signs of change with eagerness it hasn’t shown for months.
Spring’s arrival isn’t a single moment—it’s a gradual unfolding, a quiet shift in the rhythm of the world around us. And if we take time to notice, we’ll find that these small changes carry a beauty of their own.
The Beauty of Small Shifts in Nature
In preparation for this blog post, I set out on an aimless walk around the neighbourhood on a glorious Saturday, seeking inspiration to write about the transition from winter to spring and the many ways our bodies and minds react to it. I was prepared to keep my eyes peeled, not knowing exactly for what—but then again, that’s the whole point of mindful walking.
As soon as I stepped outdoors, I took that delicious gulp of spring air, which instantly put me in the state of a complete euphoria simply at the fact of being alive. I don’t know about you, but I rarely feel this way in winter (winters are dark, cold, and depressing where I live), and as this newly awakened hunger for life mounted in me, I forced my legs, so used to rush me everywhere, to slow down and my eyes to take in the world around me.
If I had to make a list of all the small signs of spring that caught my attention on that walk, it would look like this:
- Every other passing car had the window of the driver’s seat rolled down.
- There was an outdoor clothesline with laundry hanging on it.
- I passed an entire army of sparrows having a feast in the bushes with several bird feeders and fluttering excitedly around a makeshift birdbath, with pigeons and crows joining in occasionally.
- I saw my first, pale-yellow butterfly of the season.
- As I took a short bus ride, a woman switched her seat on the sunny side of the bus to one on the shaded side.
- So many building windows were ajar or wide open.
- The first blanket picnics of the season dotted the lawns at a nearby park.
- I spotted about a dozen nests in the trees which I’m prepared to bet weren’t there even two weeks ago.
Observing nature’s small changes—and how they were mirrored in human activity—virtually breathed a new life into me, reminding me how much joy the world has to offer in things as simple as a ray of sunshine or the view of a bird splashing around in the water. Not to mention that my little nature walk did give me what I’d hoped for: plenty of inspiration to be writing this right now.
The Benefits of Observing Nature in Spring
The idea that walking benefits mental health is nothing new, and if it makes you want to roll your eyes, I get it. But while it’s a shame that going on a walk is so often treated as a universal cure for depression, there’s just no way, as annoying as it might be, around the fact that observing nature can improve mental health, particularly in those long-awaited days of spring awakening.
You will rarely see me walk in the winter sleet just for the sake of getting some fresh air—I’ll be the first to roll my eyes at this idea. No, in winter, I get my serotonin from cuddling my cat and cozying up with a good book. But come spring, I crawl out of my refuge like a ladybug crawls out of wherever it is that it spends winter, and I venture into nature for some long-overdue seasonal mindfulness.
I’m a huge believer in reconnecting with yourself through nature walks. I draw parallels between the changes around me and the changes I feel inside me. The return of birds is mirrored in my own return to my favourite nature spots. The first tree buds making their way out to the surface set an example for me to follow as I decide to step out of my house for no other reason than to be outdoors. This is when I feel the strength to take on the year, and not on January 1. This is where I make resolutions and set goals: on nature walks in mid-March.
Witnessing the world wake up from its dormant state awakens something in me. Suddenly I feel a strong urge to go places and do things, to be outdoors, experiencing the world. Suddenly there’s a longing to be active and creative, but also a desire to slow down and feel how fundamentally connected everything is, and how I am made of the same matter as the birds and the sky and the lake in my local park, and how we’re all one and the same.
As philosophical—or batshit crazy?—as this might sound, ultimately it’s just about gaining a bit of perspective through connecting to nature in spring. What with work, the stress of keeping up with all our appointments, the current very unsettling political climate, and heaven knows what else, it’s good for us to spend as little as 20 minutes watching some ducks dive in the lake, their butts up and their legs wiggling in the air, and dedicate a few moments to simply appreciating our tongue’s ability to taste ice cream, our eyes’ ability to see beauty, and the tingly sensation on our skin when a gentle breeze wraps itself around our bodies.
But there’s more to noticing nature than just admiration—it has a profound effect on our well-being, shaping the way we feel, think, and move through the world.
Mindful Ways to Observe Spring
Knowing that immersing ourselves in nature can be so beneficial, the next question is: How can we be more intentional about doing it?
There’s no one right way to practice mindfulness on a nature walk, but there’s a number of activities that I personally keep returning to every spring. If mindful walking in spring sounds like something you would like to try out, but you’re not really sure how to set about it, the tips I’m about to share are a good place to start.
1. Visit a Park and Observe the Animals
Parks come alive in spring, and animals begin to move differently. Take some time to watch how squirrels dart between trees, ducks glide across ponds, and even how insects reappear after winter. I also love to watch dogs chase after frisbees or roll around in the grass. They may not be native park dwellers, but their behaviour echoes the arrival of spring just the same.
2. Watch Birds and the Way They Behave
Birds are some of the best indicators of seasonal change. Find a quiet spot where they gather and observe how they interact, search for food, or respond to humans offering them seeds. Notice their colours, their calls, and the energy they bring to the landscape.
3. Walk Without Headphones and Listen to Nature
Instead of drowning out the world with music or a podcast, try walking in silence and tuning in to the sounds of spring. Pay attention to birdsong, the rustling of leaves, the whisper of water, or the murmur of people talking in the distance—sounds that are easy to overlook.
4. Observe Your Surroundings with Intention
Spring is full of tiny transformations. Look at the budding trees, the shifting colours of the sky, or the way sunlight changes throughout the day. Being present in these small details can make you feel more connected to the world.
5. Watch How People Interact with Spring
I’m sure I’m not the only one tempted to go outside when the temperatures start to warm up. People generally tend to spend more time outdoors come spring, often with subtle changes in their demeanor. Notice how they move differently, how they linger in the sun, how they don’t rush their dogs to do their business, or how their facial expressions shift compared to colder months. People-watching can reveal just as much as observing nature itself.
…there’s more to noticing nature than just admiration—it has a profound effect on our well-being, shaping the way we feel, think, and move through
the world.
You can endlessly adjust and perfect the recipe for connecting with nature—and connecting with yourself along the way. Your mindful springtime walks don’t have to look anything like mine. The goal of nature observation is, ultimately, to come to a realization that maybe our presence here, and the ability of clouds looking like a bunny or a dinosaur, and the existence of ducks with their funny butts, are some of the most underrated miracles hiding in plain sight.