The art of walking

A step at a time towards appreciating nature

In his famous essay, “Walking,” American poet, philosopher, and environmentalist Henry David Thoreau presents the simple act of walking as an art to be mastered. The type of walking Thoreau describes doesn’t serve the practical purpose of getting somewhere; rather, it enables one to engage in contemplation by taking refuge in the sacred space that wilderness represented for him.

When I first read Thoreau’s famous book Walden as a teenager, his words strongly resonated with my own love of nature and the outdoors. Just as Thoreau used to “saunter” freely in the Concord woods, I would set out almost every evening for a walk in the neighbourhood where I spent my teenage years.

Of course, the suburban town in Quebec where I grew up was very different from 19th-century rural Massachusetts. However, I was lucky to live in a relatively old neighbourhood dominated by tall trees and large backyards rather than tall brick houses. While some front yards featured = impeccable green lawns, others preferred to bear the marks of seasons: stubborn dandelions sprouting in spring, fluffy white seed heads in summer, and a sheet of colourful leaves in autumn. I distinctively recall one lawn covered by a carpet of wild thyme, which bloomed into tiny purple flowers in early June; I would often walk by to catch their fresh and minty scent.

Although I cannot remember how this habit first started, talking a walk soon became something I looked forward to everyday. These strolls were an opportunity for me to notice and take in the beauty present within bits and pieces of nature all around the neighbourhood. They offered space and tranquility that allowed me to recharge and reflect upon complicated thoughts and emotions. After a hectic day, the quiet streets and parks in my neighbourhood became a sanctuary where I could simply be on my own, free from schoolwork and social obligations for a while.

Walking outdoors in the evening also kept me attuned to seasonal transitions. Each season had its own perks: in spring, as days grew longer, I would set out a bit later every week in order to match the timing of sunset. On long and hot summer days, the cooling evening air felt like a liberation from the stuffiness indoors. But my favourite season was autumn: each walk was an opportunity to admire the changing colours of oak, maple, and ash leaves, and to pick up a few unique-looking specimens for my collection (often more than a few).

My walks weren’t the four-hour strolls into deep woods that Thoreau so intently advocated for; unlike him, I was rarely “free from all worldly engagements” for hours on end. Often, after half an hour or so, the thought of homework to complete for the next day would pull me back towards home. However, these walks did teach me to appreciate the richness of nature present in my suburban neighbourhood. Looking back on these experiences, I realize that we do not necessarily need pristine landscapes with forests, mountains, and lakes—the way we often conceptualize Mother Nature—in order to build a strong connection with the environment. In fact, this

ideological divide between nature and civilization is problematic, as it further alienates us from the natural world. By understanding wilderness as a space completely untouched by humans, we are at risk of overlooking ways in which it may be present in our everyday lives.

To cultivate a deeper appreciation of nature right here, at home, it might be enough to simply step outside the walls of our houses and walk around with curiosity and presence. To truly sense the evening breeze and observe the shape of clouds, sometimes like the smears of a paintbrush, sometimes like cotton balls. To see dandelions on a lawn not as annoying weeds, but as a sign of nature’s resilience. Perhaps walking can bring us a step closer to resolving our current ecological crisis.

I hope that in the future, residential neighbourhoods will make more room for green spaces and for bigger trees to thrive. I want more children to get the chance to run on unpaved playgrounds and marvel at species of bugs and wildflowers rather than grow surrounded by rows of houses and asphalt roads. If more people are given a chance to grow fond of the natural world around them, then more of us would truly care about protecting it and preserving its beauty and serenity.

As March slowly melts into April, I encourage all of you, once in a while, to take a small detour via quieter streets on your way home from school or from work. Take a few moments to simply walk and observe your surroundings, and notice if this short break leaves you feeling calmer and refreshed.