Find Yourself Some Grass. Stat.

Photo taken by Rukmini.

I didn't realize how much I missed nature until I moved to Chicago at the beginning of December. My apartment looks out on neighboring apartments with old, brown walls. The house across the road is brown. The buildings in which I work and go to school are grey and beige. Most of the buildings I pass each day are varying shades of red-orange, brown, beige and grey. I haven't seen an ounce of green in this city in the last four months. Though this has been an especially snow-less winter, there's no grass (even the dead, brown-green kind) to see. The trees are easy to miss because their trunks, in the cold, are grey like everything else. And the lake? Well, I was already cold enough without exposing myself to the icy knives gusting off Lake Michigan.

I went back to the suburbs to visit my parents this weekend and, sitting at the dining table with my bowl of cereal, I felt the corners of my eyes relax, the muscles of my shoulders and neck settle calmly into place. Our dining table overlooks a row of houses painted... brown. But, in between our house and the others lies a long strip of grass. Green. That bright, fresh green of new growth which screams of juices bubbling through sluggish veins, flushing out the somnolence of winter. 

I started thinking about how important nature is for us. Human beings, yes, but writers especially. The color green is actually believed to be calming. And most people I know write better when they can carve out a few moments of peace in a stressful day. And a few minutes in nature is the least demanding, quickest, cheapest way I know to find that peace. 

So, here's a reminder, especially as you're looking for inspiration during National Poetry Month. Take a few minutes to find a patch of green or blue and just look at it. In the summer, it's easy. Eat your lunch in a park. Look up at the trees as you walk to your car. Walk for five minutes by your nearest river, pond or lake. But even in the winter, look up at tree branches coated in snow, find a patch of grass or spend a few minutes looking at someone's garden. 

I spent a minute looking up at the empty branches I pass under on my walk home from work. It was 9:15 pm but, in the orange glow of the streetlamps, I noticed that they're starting to bud. It made me happy.

Read more of Rukmini's work on Floodmark.