Just as spring is breathing life into the world, the semester is coming to a close. This means that I had to make my last visit to Centennial Woods for this school year.
Last Check In
In early May, the Log Cross is coming back to life—bright green buds are emerging on trees, and patches of fresh grass and ferns are beginning to break through the needle-covered ground. Birds have returned, filling the woods with their calls, specifically a great crested fly-catcher. The stream flows freely now, a oerfect breeding spot for amphibians (although I did not see any 😔). All of this new life brings a sense of energy and renewal to the entire site.
How has the site changed over time?
Over time, the Log Cross in Centennial Woods has transformed over the course of the school year. These major changes have flowed with the seasons, the spot morphing from a vibrant autumn landscape full of color and activity in the fall, to a quiet snow-covered winter refuge in the winter, and now into a lively spring scene awakening with new life. Each season brought distinct shifts—fall’s colorful canopy and full understory and fern-filled ground cover gave way to bare branches, quiet stillness, and prints in the fresh snow. Its now replaced by budding leaves, returning birds, and signs of fresh growth. The natural world continuously renews itself, reminding me that change is inevitable… but also beautiful.
The most significant landmark of the log cross is the log cross itself. In the fall, it was covered in moss, then covered in snow over the winter, and now it’s covered in moss again. As long as I’m wearing good, waterproof pants, all of these options provide a comfortable seat and place to meditate.
Culture and Nature
At the Log Cross, nature and culture mix in cool ways—students study soil, friends hang out by the stream, and I’ve used the spot for grounding meditations. Even though I use my phone for things like iNaturalist or listening to nature podcasts, it still feels like a break from technology and a chance to reconnect. It’s a reminder that while we live in a digital world, we’re still part of nature’s flow.
Am I a part of the log cross?
I don’t consider myself a part of the Log Cross specifically, even though I am undeniably a part of nature as a whole. This spot feels more like a place I visit and observe, rather than somewhere I truly belong. I haven’t shaped it in any meaningful way, and it continues its seasonal rhythms whether I’m there or not. Still, being in this space reminds me that I’m part of the larger natural world, even if I’m just a temporary guest in this particular corner of it. I hope to continue carving out time to go and rest in centennial woods next semester, as this sense of belonging (without responsibility in being a part of it) brings me so much peace.
Well, thats all folks!


























