When I mentally scroll through my thousands of life experiences, memories from every decade of my life dance across my mind. Some pictures are crystal clear with vivid colors and live-action clips. Other recollections are fuzzier on the details, but I can still recall the events that took place. Together, these wildly diverse threads have been woven into my life’s tapestry that will (hopefully) continue as a work in progress.
Many of my most vivid memories involve encounters in the natural world. Whether I’m walking through a park, hiking a local trail, or working in my backyard garden ─ I take time to smell the roses (mostly figuratively). I put my daily routine on hold and really focus on the natural beauty around me. Soaking up the sights, sounds, and even smells is all part of the experience. Here are three nature-based life experiences that really stand out for me.
Back in late fall 1997, my husband and I embarked on a winter cruise on our Bristol 30 sailboat. Leaving from a port just south of Annapolis, MD, we were ultimately headed for The Bahamas (although we didn’t actually make it there). That’s another story.
We traveled south on the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, a well-marked inland route that snakes southward next to the Atlantic Ocean. Anchored somewhere in a Georgia sound, we were enjoying breakfast below when we heard lots of “Whoosh” noises around us. None of the boat systems would have made those unusual sounds, so we decided to investigate further.
Climbing out of the boat’s cabin, we saw several dozen dolphins splashing in formation toward the shore. The clever mammals appeared focused on an important goal: funneling a sizable school of small fish into an ever-narrowing space. Once the dolphins got close to the shore, they proceeded to gorge themselves silly on the trapped, leaping fish. We marveled at the dolphins’ ability to coordinate their movements and grab their prized fishy feast!
We decided to spend New Year’s Eve 2000 (yes, the Millennium) on Cat Island in The Bahamas. At the time, we were enduring the bitter cold of a Maryland winter, and we were desperate to get out of town. We wanted to celebrate this momentous occasion surrounded by palm trees ─ not wielding ice scrapers and snow shovels. Choosing The Bahamas was easy, as flights were convenient and not terribly expensive.
So how did we end up on remote Cat Island ─ about 130 miles southeast of Nassau? We were intrigued by the 50-mile-long island’s rich history, wild beauty, and quirky character. We stayed at a Family-run inn, sharing home-cooked breakfasts (and good conversation) with the family’s patriarch. We also rented a car and explored the island’s many small settlements. During this off-the-beaten-path vacation, we had numerous opportunities to experience the Bahamian locals’ warm and friendliness firsthand.
We spent several hours strolling the sheltered Exuma Sound beaches, where we found some interesting shells while meeting few other beachgoers. Exploring miles of the spectacular Atlantic coast was a strikingly different experience. Limestone rock outcroppings, pounding surf, and offshore reefs made for a dramatic seascape.
We quickly became collectors of metal fish floats (likely from Portugal). I also sat for hours sifting through thousands of miniature shells, finding one stash I labeled “The Motherlode.” When we began packing for the trip home, my suitcase was so jammed with gorgeous shells that I could barely carry the bag. Maybe I failed to mention that I also packed several impressive (and heavy) conch shells.
Our New Year’s Eve was truly an otherworldly experience. Sometime during the warm Bahamian evening, we strolled along the bluffs near the inn, stopping to marvel at the limitless expanse of stars above us. Suddenly, we heard the sound of multiple female voices wafting across the water. We were listening to Bahamian “rushing songs,” traditional chants and tunes frequently a part of local street parades. Hearing these traditional songs, and feeling the soft breeze while soaking up the Bahamian vibe, was an experience I’ll always treasure.
Every year, waiting for the hummingbirds is like marking off the days until Christmas. I spent much of my younger life in Maryland, and later lived in two other states with cold, nasty winters. While enduring these challenging months, I hung onto hope that the ruby-throated hummingbirds would return again in the spring.
These tiny, colorful flying jewels have always fascinated me. A typical ruby-throated hummer weighs only a few ounces, but they aren’t as delicate as they look. These scrappy little ninjas often battle over nectar feeders and territories. Every spring, they make the epic trek north from their Central American wintering grounds. During late summer or early fall, the hummingbirds bulk up to ensure energy reserves for the trip south.
During the early spring, I begin tracking ruby-throated hummingbirds via the Journey North website. This handy resource invites “citizen journalists” to submit their local hummingbird observations to the group’s database. When I think the hummers’ arrival is imminent, I hang my nectar feeder just outside my office window. Then, I repeatedly look for a brilliant flash of green and listen for the hummers’ distinctive whirring sound as they hover at the feeder.
Based on a conversation with someone in my community, I hung my nectar feeder on March 1, 2026. This year, the first male hummer zoomed in on Friday, March 13 ─ about three weeks before last year’s arrival date. The female showed up the next day. Their antics bring me so much joy throughout the spring and summer months. Although I’ll be sorry to see them leave in mid/late September, I know when to get my feeder ready for next season.
