NATURE AND NURTURE
The power of outside during Covid-19 lockdown
The ability of green and outdoor space to improve peoples physical and mental wellbeing is a well understood phenomenon within academia. Recently, however, we are all starting to become increasingly aware of just how important it is for our day to day lives. As we are all forced to stay indoors our one daily form of exercise has become more than just ‘exercise’ but has become one hour out of the day where we can engage with the outdoors and free our mind from confinement, even if only short lived.
This blog is a collection of short reflective accounts of peoples engagement with nature and outdoor space whilst they take their permitted once daily form of exercise. Whilst showcasing peoples positive engagement with the outdoors and the impact it is having on their wellbeing, it is also important to remember that not everyone right now has access to green space or a private garden, particularly in urban deprived areas. By showcasing the positive impacts greens and outdoor space can have on wellbeing we can promote a movement to ensure that everyone has access to some sort of green and outdoor space.
To submit an entry or for any other information on this project please email Josephine.biglin@manchester.ac.uk
ON OUR WALKS
Denton, Texas is a city with a population of 140,000 and has two universities that are about three miles apart from one another. I live between the two. I began walking regularly to stay fit, but over the years walking has evolved into something more. Denton has a mixture of natural habitats, groomed and ungroomed lawns, and a dose of grittiness. No longer purely for exercise, my walks have become observational treks. As I started noticing interesting objects in gardens, and bits and pieces discarded on sidewalks and streets, I realized beauty can be found in the not so beautiful, and neighbors’ gardens are chock full of humorous and witty things. My walking evolution began to include quick photoshoots of anything odd, beautiful, or that seems to tell a story. I have since named my photo collection “On My Walks”.
I began to worry as the pandemic forced friends and family members into isolation. My friend, Sandra, who lives in West Yorkshire, was already dealing with several stressful situations, and the lockdown added layers of complications. To stay connected, Sandra and I agreed to exchange one photo a day from our walks. Observing and photographing an object or landscape seems to diminish stress – a least for a few moments. This fun task creates a shared experience, even though thousands of miles separate us. Maybe we will compile our pictures into a new collection called “On Our Walks Though a Pandemic”. (Chris, Denton, Texas, 27th May 2020)
I WALK TO BE NEAR OTHER BEATING HEARTS
My walk is around Salford Quays. I tried a few alternatives beforehand and settled on this at the start of May. Being near the water relaxes me. I also like being near the people I share the space with; the joggers, families, cyclists, dogs and other walkers. I live alone so lockdown has meant seeing no one for 9 weeks. The walk lets me be near other beating hearts. I sometimes communicate with them through smiles, nods, or stepping aside to let them pass.
At first, it looks like a concrete place but there is nature everywhere. I do the walk in the evenings and notice how things change like how people are fishing again. This week I saw my first set of chicks. On nice evenings, I know which parts of the quay are bathed in sunshine and where the good benches are to sit on. At around 8pm pairs of geese take off and fly low over the water. It’s like a signal that the evening will be soon coming to an end.
I can get lost in my thoughts and don’t always remember the bits I have walked. I think of the men and women who worked on the old docks and those who sailed from here never to return.
A couple of times I have reversed the walk and it’s surprising how different the experience is. I notice new things or see them from a different perspective. The first time I reversed the walk it unlocked a memory of walking that particular bit with a friend 20 odd years ago. A memory I never had from walking it the other way around. When the lockdown eases and I can see my family again, I am going to invite my nephew to join me on my walk.
(Chris, Manchester, 25th May)
EL PASEO
Across Latin America, and especially in El Salvador and Guatemala, el paseo is an evening ritual. This nightly circular walk, with a loved one, takes a habitual path, usually around the plaza in the centre of a small town. In an odd echo of the custom of the paseo, many of us have been walking in circles during lockdown. We are allowed to walk with our loved ones. The paseo is an evening ritual that combines privacy and intimacy with the protection of being in public. My partner and I have have been walking in the evenings, in a generous circle though the trees and wooded paths that I have only discovered during lockdown. We live five minutes walk from Sale Water park and its circular routes through the trees and by the river. Until now, we hadn't taken the time to explore them. Or it hadn't occurred to us. I like to think of the couples in Antigua, Guatemala, promenading in circles in the town square, keeping their distance from other walkers, relishing their privacy in public, as we avoid the other walkers in the water park.
(Andrew, Manchester, 14th May 2020)
SHARING LANDSCAPES
Walking on nearby Rombald’s Moor, adjacent to our house, became our daily exercise from the start of lockdown.
Chris, my friend of 34 years lives in North Dallas and during this surreal time, she suggested that we exchange photos from our daily walks, making them more meaningful and bringing our respective landscapes closer.
The idea provided me with comfort as my mum was rushed into hospital on April 1st. She tested Covid 19 negative on admission but was diagnosed with cancer and no-one could visit her.
Chris’s first photo was of a broken red rear light cover in the shape of a heart. She found it lying in a gutter and it made a poignant ‘found object’ image. I responded with a photo of moss on a stone in the shape of a necklace, as Chris interpreted it.
Chris and I both have design backgrounds and our eyes are drawn to the beauty of detail in our respective environments.
I wondered where, along Chris’s routes, her photos were taken and I might suggest that we plot our photos on a map to make visual journeys so that we can better understand each other’s surroundings
Mum died unexpectedly on the 14thof April; she tested positive for the virus at the end. Thank goodness, I was allowed to visit her on the 11th.
Our walks and the photo sharing are giving me moments of freedom from the sadness.
Being outdoors aids healing and is known to reduce stress and I now have a sense of Chris’s own special outdoors, miles away, across the Atlantic.
(Sandra, Ilkley, 10th May 2020)
THE POWER OF THE OUTDOORS
For a year or so, my husband has repeatedly, and with hope gradually fading over time, asked me to join him on his early morning walk. I have repeatedly replied with a resounding ‘”NO!”. He would tell me how the walk sets him up for a productive day; puts him in the right headspace. I remained unconvinced as I thought about the extra hour I can spend in my comfortable bed instead.
And then…we had lockdown and were only allowed out once a day for an hour’s exercise. I surprised my husband by agreeing to join him on his early morning walk.
What a revelation! The sound of birdsong, the enthralling beauty all around me, the realisation of what I had been missing!
We now explore the footpaths around our village that we never knew existed and, at the weekends, take our son so that he can enjoy the wonderous nature on our doorstep.
The importance, and the power, of the outdoors is now obvious to me; it has certainly had a positive impact on my health and wellbeing. I feel fitter but, more importantly, more at peace and ready for anything that the day and the weeks ahead bring.
(Sharon, Wirral, 9th May 2020)
THE PLACE WHERE MY SOUL REPLENISHES IS OUR LOCAL BEACH
Covid19, social distancing and quarantine - where in the last Century would these words become common place in our everyday vernacular? Sadly, today they are.
As an expat, full-time teacher, wife and mother to four and nine year old daughters living in the Middle East - finding time to get back to nature is something I naturally crave, even in my 'normal existence'.
As a family, we are blessed with amazing weather most of the year and our accommodation affords an outdoor space where we garden, BBQ and often relax in our family-sized pool.
Working from home, responding to deadlines and concerned parents; whilst supervising our own daughters involves an excruciating amount of screen time for the whole family.
The place where my soul replenishes is our local beach. Not a public closed beach. The sand between my toes, the waves of the Persian Gulf lapping around my legs, the sun melting away stresses of the week and the sky above landscaping the feeling of true release and escapism all for free.
For us, it's a couple of unspoilt, uninterrupted time as a family, just being us, alone, safe outdoors immersed in nature's beauty - where we CAN and DO forget about the pandemic swirling and spreading globally around us.
We feel truly blessed to be living here; where we can switch off and refocus on the true importance of tomorrow's unpredictable future.
(Lara, Qatar, 8th May 2020)
NEW PERSPECTIVE
Fascinating reading other people's experiences of the great outdoors in these difficult times and how much their thoughts and feelings echo mine. I live in a first floor flat in a village on the Great Ouse in Cambridgeshire so I find it very important to get out, but am also very lucky that I have some beautiful walks on my doorstep. My favoured walk is circular, along the river, through some meadows and then a very quiet road back to the village. I have been walking this route for some years, but it has never felt quite like this before. No vapour trails in the sky, no distant hum of traffic, not even any preoccupations with what I might be doing tomorrow, just enjoying the walk. And what strikes me is how, as far as the natural world I see around me is concerned, everything is normal, or perhaps, more how it should be. Nature doesn't need us, in fact is better off without us. All the creatures I come across are living their lives with no reference to us. It gives me a new perspective on my relationship with the world I live in. It made me think of that wonderful creation in Douglas Adam's "Hitchhiker's Guide To the Galaxy", the Total Perspective Vortex - "The most horrifying form of torture/punishment in the known Universe. The Total Perspective Vortex is a small, featureless steel box, barely big enough for one man to stand in. The hopeless victims stand in the Vortex, and are suddenly shown, for the merest instant, the whole of the Universe: the whole infinity of creation, spanning over several trillion light years, and countless millennia, with an insignificant dot saying "You Are Here". The victims, totally demoralised by their experience, fall dead ...." Luckily I haven't fallen dead yet, but the feeling is humbling.
(Tim, Wyton, Cambridgeshire, 5th May 2020)
NOSTALGIA IS A POWERFUL THING, IT CONNECTS YOU TO PAST AND PRESENT SELVES
I first became interested in peoples relationship to place during my undergraduate degree in Psychology. We studied something called ‘Psychogeography’: the specific laws and effects of the geographical environment on the emotions and behaviour of the individual. One aspect of Psychogeography is the focus on ‘journeys’ in between places, in a fast-paced society we are so focused on what is at the end the in between places of our journey get often get overlooked. But now I find myself walking, for no purpose other than the walk itself and I find myself so much more in tune to the sensory experience of the walk that goes nowhere and the nature that surrounds it.
I take my daily exercise walk in Southern Cemetery, Manchester, people sound shocked when I say this as it sounds weird to find walking in a cemetery pleasurable, but the cemetery is so calming, beautiful and relaxing. Plus I live in the city suburbs and the cemetery is the closest green space I have. I find that walking around the cemetery improves my wellbeing because it ignites a sort of sensory nostalgia. The impact of sensory nostalgia was something that was first brought to my attention in research I carried out with people seeking asylum in an allotment. Plants and crops ignited a positive sensory nostalgia for former ways of living in the participants – and I am now experiencing this first-hand. Before lock down I think I would take for granted the sensory stimulus of my walk to the bus stop or walk to work, because, well it was something that happened everyday so nothing special. But now we are cooped up indoors there is a lack of sensory stimulation as we sit in the same environment day in day out – groundhog day! Therefore, I find myself much more susceptible to sensory stimuli whenever I am out. As I walk in the cemetery, a certain smell ignites a forgotten memory from childhood. The combination of the sounds of birds; rustles of trees; warmth of the sun on my face; the smell of cut grass and the array of different shades of lush greens generates a nostalgia for the spring time when we were not in lock down. Or a walk down to the shop in the rain is enjoyable because I feel nostalgic for a walk in the rain (I live in Manchester) – not in lock down, perhaps on my way to the tram stop to go somewhere else, maybe I was frustrated that it was raining and all I had was a flimsy umbrella – but not now, now being out in the rain just makes me smile.
Nostalgia is a powerful thing, it connects you to past and present selves. It reminds me of better times and allows me to partially live, momentarily, a better time, and it reassures me that better times are coming again. I now, finally properly understand, what those Psychogeographers were talking about all those years ago, just taking the time to appreciate the journey, the in between, for what it is, not where it is taking you.
(Jo, Manchester, 3rd May)
IT IS NO ENLIGHTENMENT, BUT IT IS CONSOLATION.
I wake up. I roll on one side and pick up the phone. I scroll, and I scroll, and then I drop the phone back on the mattress. I get up and I drag my feet into the kitchen. They say that having a routine is essential for my well-being. What is essential for my well-being is to see this plate crash against the wall. Frankly, I do not believe that the benefit of a healthy breakfast outweighs the damage of no hugs and kisses afterwards. I am irritated by every flake of porridge and every laugh of my neighbors having breakfast together. I hate the endless repetition of mornings and afternoons, Mondays and Saturdays, and the unbearable repetition of news.
So far, I did a dozen runs, two dozen of mindful yoga practices, I walked until my legs were aching, tried new recipes and ordered new books. I got things done, I read four hundred sixty-five pages of Shantaram and asked every item in my closet if it brought me joy. I got drunk, I reached out to my friends, I forgave all my foes. I learnt new words in Spanish every day and I sang Summertime along with Ella Fitzgerald. I read Russian poetry, I read English poetry, and I finally emailed the landlord about my leaking shower.
But the news repeat and the statistics are merciless.
I rush outside and across the street, into the park. I am so angry that my hands are shaking. I walk past the pond and feel the coolness of its breath. I walk under tree branches and then flop down on grass and chamomiles. Then, I listen to conversations and watch how kids and dogs play, and how lovers break rules of the quarantine. And then my anger starts to subside. All the colours and buzzing make me let go. And I rise above my little body and my little mind. What is my life in this never-ending cycle of Autumns and Springs? Nettle will grow and wilt. Herons will hatch, and they will die. And they never pity themselves. How normal it is, though, for humans to feel angry and helpless, and how natural it is to forget your worries when you hear the rustling of leaves in the gentle wind. It is no enlightenment, but it is consolation.
(Darya, Manchester, 5th May 2020)
LIFE IN THE WOLDS WAY IN THE LOCK-DOWN
We moved to the small village of Muston nr Filey several months ago. Most of our social commitments were in Scarborough so Muston was only a base as such, but the lock-down has confined us to this small village with 300 inhabitants.
We are aware how fortunate we are in some ways but also see the negative side of village life in these strange times.
There are a handful of walks we go on daily. Muston is on the Wolds way, and though it is the least known of all public footpaths in the country, it is a highly regarded one. Unfortunately, as it is a linear walk as opposed to a circular one, we have to turn round and retrace our steps. However there is one circular route lasting about 40 minutes.
Several weeks ago crossing a concrete bridge over a stream brought be straight back to my childhood and the long hot summers my generation wax lyrical about. I remember catching sticklebacks and putting them in a jam jar. We sat and stared in the stream wondering what we might see. The lock-down had restored some long lost ability to appreciate small things and I was even shocked myself how I became lost in that one moment of serenity, staring into the stream whilst time stood still. I didn't see anything as such in the stream but that didn't matter and in that moment I experienced the appreciation of small things that so many people have similarly described in these strange times.
We are also aware of bird life more. I have never been a naturalist as such but have been amazed by the colours and different sounds we have seen and heard on the walks we do. I don't need to be able to identify the different species of birds - don't see what advantage that could bring - but never the less do appreciate this in such unique times.
This epiphany was echoed in a spooky way when we, almost simultaneously, started listening to a Northumbrian folk band called The Unthanks'. One track in particular, 'Magpie' is a haunting song which musically represents what it's like to be out in a field all on your own listening birdsong.
Now all flights are cancelled (we should have been in Berlin now - meeting our new grandson) we have to focus on the minutiae of life and in the same way that William Blake saw all the world in a grain of sand, the whole experience also allowed meditation and reflection on a variety of levels from the ultimate purpose of life to more esoteric issues revolving around the nature of existence and the holographic theory of our universe to more simple questions such as is this enough for me? Could all life's secrets be revealed in this field on such a silent, sun drenched afternoon.
However now it's raining and we are confined to Muston. Let out to applaud the NHS once a week (don't get me going on that one) whilst trying to make human contact with neighbours we have yet to meet (we've only been living there for 6 weeks!) My wife claimed she got a wave of sorts last week.
The most negative point came several weeks ago when we were returning from one of The Wolds' Way walks and we passed a few cottages in a little side lane. One woman peered over her hedge and my wife distinctly heard her mumbling about strangers being in the vicinity and how we weren't welcome here! If that's how she reacted, how are people going to react in high rise flats in some of our large inner city areas?
Strange times indeed!
(Mike, Muston, 2nd May 2020)
BEING COOPED UP EVERYDAY IS NOT GOOD FOR MY SOUL
I find as I have got older that I love the outdoors more and more. At home I sit by the open back door when I am working or marking exam papers so that I feel as though I am outside. I can hear the world as I work – an early morning siren (there’s always a siren) the odd plane – when we’re not in lockdown – bringing a yearning for summers away, an occasional lawn mower and the soft hum of chatter.
I took up running five years ago but no treadmills for me. I have to be outside no matter what the weather is like. I run in sun, rain and snow and it makes me feel alive and fresh and shows the beauty of everything around me. I vary my running routes to explore my local area and find new nooks and crannies.
When I spend time in Spain, I sit on the terrace every day – unlike the Spaniards who rarely do – and luxuriate in the mountains around me and the clean, clean air unsullied by industry or road fumes. I swim in the open-air pool and raise my eyes to the mountains which remind me of how small and insignificant we are.
I love to watch my grandchildren playing outside, seeing their rosy cheeks and the glow in their eyes. I’ve been known to join in!
Being outside is as essential as breathing for me but in this time of corona and lockdown it has become a lifesaver. I’m a busy and active person and being cooped up all day every day is not good for my soul….or my good humour!! I’m a great believer in the innate goodness of fresh air and the need to blow the cobwebs away something that is even more important in this wearing time. I always feel better for a spell outside whether walking, running, swimming or just sitting. Everything seems better and problems drift away.
(Julie, Rochdale, 1st May 2020)
IT’S A BIT OF A PRIVILEGE TO HAVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL COUNTRYSIDE SO CLOSE TO MY HOME
January storms and now it’s just a gentle trickle. The bird life on this river is fascinating and early in the morning the birdsong has been very uplifting. There’s a woodpecker at work - I can hear her more often than see her, but the uniform holes from previous years are evidence of her hard work. Heron love this valley and will stand elegantly in the river waiting for an unsuspecting fish but then flap off in a rather ungainly fashion if anyone approaches. It’s a bit of a privilege to have such beautiful countryside so close to my home and there’s no doubt that it has a positive impact on my wellbeing.
(Fran, Luddenden, 30thApril 2020)
I HAD TO CONTROL FROM NOT CRYING BUT IT ALSO FILLED ME WITH JOY AND HAPPINESS
I went outside today… It’s the new normal – daily walks in nature. It’s funny, I probably have learned more about the surroundings of where I live in 2 weeks than I would have had in a year. I am lucky to live in a place where nature is 5 minutes away. I’ve always been attracted to nature, it offers me comfort, helps me ground myself. Every day I try to look for new walking paths, change direction, do something different. This way I discover new places but also become more familiar with the old ones, like this farm I go by most of the days. It has some lamas and I even got to name one, Ghiță(a Romanian name) reminds me of home. When I was thinking what to write a certain moment popped out. On another farm, which I haven’t walked by before, there were these baby cows (I mean calf, but I like to call them baby cows). I just stood there watching them, chilling in the field. I wanted to get closer, they started running, playing with each other, I don’t remember ever seeing more than one baby cow, here there were more than 6. I observed some more, it seemed a different world, they were free, having fun. That scene made me so emotional, I had to control from not crying but it also filled me with joy and happiness, made me appreciate life more. Having the possibility to go on these types of walks definitely helps me stop worrying for a second and just be in the present. (Ana, New Mills, 26th April 2020)
For me being from the countryside originally, I’ve always loved the feeling of being outside, it’s how I grew up after all, playing in the garden or riding bikes around quiet country roads - in all weathers and temperatures. These walks (and short runs) of late, every day, on winding canal pathways, round local walks and through farmer’s (smelly) fields have been quite joyous – and it’s not something I would do out of habit before this whole lockdown weirdness, so for me it’s been amazing to reconnect with my love of hiking and the outdoors.
There’s something quite profound surrounding the simple act of walking, with one’s thoughts as company. Sort of like a tonic for the mind, body and soul, if you will. Can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m sure someone will have thought about it better than me. Pretty stupid of me to not do all these walks and runs in my daily life, but I guess that’s the nature of people sometimes – we rarely do most things, until we absolutely have to.
Perhaps I’ll have gained some good habits once we’re out of these stay-at-home doldrums after all.
Stay Safe,
Chris.
(New Mills, 26th April 2020)
IF AND WHEN ALL RETURNS TO NORMAL I HOPE WE WILL HAVE LEARNED TO BETTER APPRECIATE THE EVERYDAY
On a warm Sunday in July, 2014, the place I had lived in for over twenty years suddenly looked different. The Tour de France hurtled through my village and the hundreds of tourists and the cars and bikes flashing through the twisting streets suddenly transformed the familiar into the unfamiliar.
Now in 2020 the coronavirus pandemic has also transformed the familiar into the unfamiliar.
My partner recently underwent knee replacement surgery, so although we are in lockdown it is crucial that she exercises regularly so each day we dutifully walk up and down the avenue where we live. We must have done this thousands of times over the years but now all seems both the same, yet different. Suddenly people look worried as they approach from the opposite direction, nervous to pass too close; many have worried faces, and some keep their eyes firmly fixed on the pavement. We had not realised that social distancing meant not behaving socially.
On a positive note because there is no purpose to our walk, other than the walk itself, suddenly we notice things more intensely. We take time to appreciate the beauty of the hills rising up from the valley floor and the individual quirks of people’s front gardens
If and when all returns to normal I hope we will have learned to better appreciate the everyday. (Trevor, Hebden Bridge, 2nd April 2020)
A WALK IS LIKE A SACRED JOURNEY TO SOME PARADISE
I am living back at home, in my childhood house, with the surroundings grew up with. Since quarantine, the outside world has altered in almost everyone’s mind and a walk is like a sacred journey to some paradise. For me, it has made me feel like an explorer and a recent post on Instagram has got me obsessed with finding something. Nettles. I really want to forage and find some nettles to make nettle soup .I love trying weird foods and this has been on my list for a while but fallen to the forgotten. It wasn’t until this quarantine that my thirst for the soup became real. My memory of nettles has been being a child ad accidently stumbling or being pushed into them. However I seem to recall that they were always around in abundance. But now that I’m looking for it, it seems hard to find. I’ve made 2 endeavours outside to find some so far, even consulted my Instagram inspiration but nothing... Today, I’m going to another spot, this fascination has now turned into a bit of a hobby. I wonder if I would have ever done this, would it not have been for this quarantine. I’m leaning towards probably not. I suppose it’s making me look at places I’ve grown up with, walked around hundreds of times, but completely change my motive and perception. My normal places are now mysterious jungles with hidden gems of nettles which I need to explore and find. I guess it’s my way of making things a bit exciting during this time of uncertain yet repetitive circumstances. Nettle soup is TBC and I wonder what I’ll try find next. (Mona, Middlesborough, 1st April 2020)