Greetings from the snowy woodlands,
I had a wonderful time flying down the snowy bank, embracing my childlike wonderment! Filming, however, wasn’t so easy… but I wanted to share the fun with you, so I gave it a go on my first two runs.
Lately, I’ve found solace in poets who immerse themselves in nature—Mary Oliver, John Burroughs, Wendell Berry, and so many more. Their words feel like a steadying force, a reminder that the world keeps turning, keeps breathing, no matter how uncertain life may seem.
Here are some of my thoughts about these poets, for whom I am so grateful:
There is something about poetry,
and poets who root themselves in nature,
that steadies me.
Their words move like the wind through tall grass—
quiet but certain.
Reminding me that the world is still turning,
still breathing.
No matter how anxious life may seem.
When I read them—
those who listen to rivers,
who walk among trees
and let nature guide their verse—
I feel my own edges soften.
Their language is measured and deliberate.
It unfolds like a slow sunrise,
like seasons that know exactly when to arrive.
In their rhythm, I find my own.
The noise of the world quiets,
the restless hum inside me settles.
And for a little while,
everything makes sense again.
~Wu
🐭🦊🦝🌿🍃🍂🍀✨😊💖
Thank you for wandering through the woodlands with me!
If you'd like to help support my journey, you can treat me to a
woodland tea 🍵 ←link here ✨😊
