While sitting at my phenology spot today (November 4th, 2024 AD), the first thing that I noticed was how much grayer it seemed. Most of the leaves on the hardwood trees (red maple, paper birch, and green ash) have fallen to the ground and started to decay. The ground cover itself is already dulling as the leaves decompose and lose their pigments, and the prominent remaining colors at my site are the dark greens of the hemlock & white pine needles, and the grays and browns of the tree trunks.
The water level of the stream (which I have now learned is a tributary of Potash Brook) also appeared much lower than it did when I visited a month ago, but I am not sure if that’s due to seasonal changes or if it’s because we haven’t received much rain over the past week. The turbidity of the water also seemed higher, and I could see straight through to the stream bed this time.
In addition to there being an increase in woody debris on the forest floor, there also appeared to be much less undergrowth. Many of the smaller shrubs that were growing in the understory seem to have died off, and the few that were still left were visibly unhealthier than they were a month ago. Many of them are browning and dried up, and only the ferns seemed unaffected by the recent onset of colder weather and less sunlight.
In addition to those changes, the last most significant difference that I observed while at my phenology spot was the change in temperature. It was significantly colder than when I last visited, and although I dressed in warm layers I still ended up spending much less time there than I was able to during my first visit.
Sit and Reflect
While sitting at and exploring my phenology spot, I noticed that the longer I sat there, the calmer I felt. The relative quiet of that space made me feel more connected to the world around me, and also more aware of my internal self. However, every time a car drove by on I-89, that peace was disrupted and it took a few moments before I felt fully centered again. I think that it’s easy to forget what quietness really sounds like until you’re forced to confront it, and in my own daily life those moments are typically rare (especially when school is in session). There are definitely times when I feel as though the world around me is quiet, like right now while I am sitting in my dorm writing this reflection. However, if I listen closely I can hear doors opening and closing in the hallway, cars driving by on Main Street outside my window, and the sound of my fingers on my computer keys. Despite still being able to hear the rush of the stream, birds chirping, and the wind whipping through the over story while at my phenology spot, those background noises don’t have the same disruptive effect that the ones I can hear in my room do. I am not exactly sure why, but those background noises feel comforting rather than stress inducing and I’m grateful for the peace that sitting at my phenology spot for just a few minutes brings me.