"Come to the woods, for here is rest," John Muir
Why did John Muir say this? Because each tree emits phytoncides, necessary to the well-being of the tree but also found in the scents that calm us, that take us past our hurts into healing. Think cedar, Scots pine, birch, oak and sandalwood, any fresh woody fragrance distilled from tree resins and encountered during every walk in the forest. Those who have studied trees and forests for many years suggest that without forest bathing, forest immersion, lying on a quilt under a cedar tree, or climbing one and perching there--i.e. without microdoses of phytoncides, we would all suffer far greater bacterial and viral infections. "Forest Pharmacy," BREATHE, June 2025.
I believe this. Don't you? Haven't moms and grand moms always told the children to play outside? And not just to get them out of the way. They come in calmer. There has to be a scientific, biological reason that a walk outdoors does us good, even more so amongst the trees. When we're anxious or depressed, the sight of leaves turning red and yellow, the smell of fresh cedar, the feel of chestnuts underfoot, can trigger an absolute neuronal sigh of relief. Partly it's "The world goes on. I'm part of something bigger." But much is our sensory responses, feeling carpets of moss or shaggy-bark hickories, grass underfoot and, sadly, the smell of oxygenated hydrocarbons that fresh cut grass emits as a distress signal when its cells are cut or damaged.
Fall is such a time for this. Where we live, the woods are buggy and chiggery in the hot months, cool and welcoming now. I am lucky enough to live in the woods, but that was not always so. As a child I was taken to parks and gardens and zoos (different smells there). But I did have a tree-house, and we have one now in our woods for the grandchildren.
I'm not saying anything new. The world is full of nature lovers. We may be the largest group around. We delight in wildlife and rainbow flower gardens. We strip down in summer and bundle up in winter just to spend one more hour outside. We plant and trim and clear and do it again. We are present to the environment--a breeze, the temperature, raindrops on our shoulders or sun on our back. Often, outdoors is our mindful place. Even storms help us see the bigger picture. Safely under the eaves, I love to take in the rain. As a child we had a sleeping porch, second floor with mattresses on the old wood floor. We would be dragged in when it thundered.
I read that a study in the UK at the University of Exeter showed that spending just two hours a week in nature led to better health. I know that the October air coming in my wide open sliding door next to my computer, birds settling in for the evening, is affecting my mood.
Much of what I think and do now is about the maelstrom of strife in America. I don't have to name any of it now. But a reminder of our place in the universe and the continuity of nature is sure to help. It's our medicine. Let's take it.
Taking our havens when we find them, Nina Naomi
