After work, I mapped the parks around me and dragged the screen to see what was available north of me. I chose a park that I have never been to and took the long way there. I was hit with the sound of the dam immediately upon exiting my car and soon learned it would serve as a constant, gentle lull in the background of my observations. I found a path leading upstream of the dam and walked along it, past the man fishing, until I found an open spot on a slight incline beneath a sign warning of the dam ahead.

I closed my eyes and found it hard to ignore the dam’s audio and the sounds of the city—sirens and cars rushing—that are seemingly inescapable. As I walked to my spot, I saw a heron come to land onshore (though I saw no reappearance over the next 45 minutes), so I was disappointed with the absence of bird calls, less a crow barking orders. As the repetitive noise and unfounded expectations faded into the background, I began to notice steady rushes of wind-breaking against the trees like waves peppered with the sounds of squirrels scampering around in their search for food.

As I opened my eyes, hobby planes criss-crossed across the sky, and three groups of birds—grouped in three themselves—flew past in quick succession with a whomp sound reminiscent of a giant rotating fan blade. Looking around to direct my observations, I found it difficult to ignore the water as it rippled in time with the wind, though it was less so out of interest and more in thanks for the end of the drought. I heard a sound to my right and shared eye contact with a squirrel as he flicked and curled his tail while enjoying a snack.

I looked up at the leaves of a quaking aspen, taking in the sound and spectacle while noting that the branches looked like veins, as they often do. Surrounded largely by green, I began to notice hints of color—red berries, small yellow flowers, white blossoms—hidden amongst the grasses, ferns, and other speckled ground covers. I sat on a bank with much erosion and tree grew at angles down to the river. Upon closer inspection, the branches and leaves reached towards the water, but the opposite side of the tree remained bare, contrary to what I expected for balance and stability. I left feeling refreshed but found my observations unremarkable as I tried to make patterns that weren’t revealing themselves to me. I walked back to my car, past where the man was fishing and found he left a dead one behind.

Location: Coon Rapids Dam Park, upstream of the dam

Conditions: After a long run of hot and dry weather followed by a weekend of rain, the evening was rather temperate with a cool breeze. The sky was fairly clear and the water calm.

Focus/Intent: My intent with the session was to focus, as it were. Despite my best efforts, I’m in a constant state of multi-tasking while looking forward and behind but never at the moment in front of me. I decided to venture north of my home to sit by a part of the Mississippi River I’ve never spent much time near. Armed with the prompts provided, my goal was to observe without distraction and without mental commentary.