Overtime, I have seen my phenology place develop in nearly all seasons. I have seen its leaves crinkle into little orange tissue paper, the barren arms of the trees left after the absense of the leaves, and the small buds reappearing now. I have seen my phenology place, and much of Centennial Woods for that matter, in a new light each and every season, and I feel immensely grateful to do so. Without this assignment, and the urging to go into the woods and observe how the area is growing and developing, I may not have paid such close attention, or gone in there at all.
Now, though, I have become increasingly familiar with the area in and surrounding my site. For one, I have become able to know what to expect when I walk the trails, and I can name many of the most common plants simply by glancing at them. I also have been able to start identifying more trees just by their bark, which was a seemingly impossible feat at the beginning of the year for me. The Eastern White Pine and Eastern Hemlock forest has become dappled with landmarks for me, such as the root I sit by and hold onto when journaling, or the rope swing nearby. The bridge crossing the small stream and the areas in which I know wildflowers will soon pop up, they’ve all become landmarks to me. I feel so honored to have lived in this area long enough to see the seasons pass, and nature sigh into a deep sleep and reawaken again.
Culture and nature intertwine in Centennial Woods. For one, this is one of the only extremely accessible natural areas near the Atheletic Campus, which is where I live. Going to this space regularly, I see people who live near me, and I built small bonds just greeting them in the woods. I also see classes doing projects in the woods often, which builds connection and purpose which people feel towards Centennial, and nature in general. I see many touches of human connection and creativity inside Centennial Woods as well. On one occasion, I was walking up near the rope swing, closest to the woods facing Trinity, and I saw people building wooden structures near the swing so that people could better jump off, and the next time I was there, the wooden pile had turned into a small fire pit. This area is undergoing constant revision and natural cycles, and I find that each time that I go, and the more closely intertwined I become with my site, the more I feel I understand the land.
I feel inexplicably tied to this land now. I have visited my site with so many of my friends, shared so many conversations as well as silent moments. I feel I can sink into my area, and that at any point when life gets overwhelming or aggitating, I know there is an area in which I can feel true peace, and escape the overly-industrialized campus for just a little while. Centennial Woods, and my site in particular, always make me feel immensely rejuvinated, and in turn, I feel intertwined with it. In loving my site, I return to it again and again, seeking in it solace, peace, and also reciprocity.