Reconnecting Through Nature

Most of my childhood was spent outdoors; the kind of upbringing a farmer’s daughter would naturally expect.

Years spent on the farm, working outside, and living for my horses I learned early that nature doesn’t hurry. It simply exists. That kind of stillness felt normal then. Natural. Unrushed.

Somewhere between growing up, growing busy, and growing disconnected, I lost touch with it.

A Quiet Realization

For years, I imagined what it might feel like to truly unplug. To spend time in the parks I talked about constantly but never quite made it to. Time and time again, our travels kept pulling us toward big cities and coastlines. Trips I’m deeply grateful for, and yet, I often came home disconnected. A little misaligned.

When we finally changed direction, something opened up.

Standing at a trailhead in Grand Teton National Park with my partner (a geologist through and through) pointing out rock layers like old friends, I felt it immediately. That familiar sense of grounding. Of connection. Of remembering who I was before life slipped into autopilot. A quiet liberation and a deep relief in being reminded just how small we are.

That day, hiking became something more than just a walk outside.

Finding Stillness Again

I didn’t fall in love with hiking for the recreation alone. I fell in love with how it slowed me down.

At first, I approached it the same way I approached everything else — with a goal. Miles tracked. Elevation gained. Trails completed. Another item on one of my life’s checklists.

But nature has a way of offering perspective. The more time I spent outside, the more I noticed how unnecessary my need to achieve and perform really was.

I wasn’t out there to prove anything.
I was out there to remember.

To remember what it felt like to actually breathe.
To hear the breeze without interruption.
To feel the ground beneath my feet.
To feel connected — to the land, to myself, to something bigger than both.

It felt familiar. Safe. Like something I had never truly lost.

What Nature Keeps Teaching Me

The more time I spend outdoors, the more I understand that nature isn’t an escape. It’s a return.

Every trail, every sunrise, every long drive through a park brings me back to the same truth: the connection and purpose I’d been searching for had been with me all along.

Maybe that’s what love does, too.

My husband sees stories in the earth’s layers — how time and pressure create strength. I see it in us. In the way slowing down has layered our lives with something softer, more intentional, more alive.

Coming Home

I didn’t find hiking to reinvent myself.

I found it to remember who I already was — a girl who loved the smell of rain, studied animals with quiet curiosity, and felt a sense of belonging in wide open land.

Time outdoors didn’t change me.
It just reminded me how to listen again.