The beauty of the overlooked

My usual dog walk makes a little loop beside the river.

We go up one side along a wooded path, cross over the river on the old metal bridge at the end, then wander around two big open fields before coming back down the other side.

It is a lovely walk. But, if I am honest, I do not always properly see it.

Some days I am walking with the dog while my mind is already at home: thinking about dinner, an email I need to answer, something I have forgotten to order, the thing I will just do when I get back.

But the river path is full of things that do not seem especially interested in being neat or impressive. Tangled edges. Long grasses. Seed heads. Things growing into each other. Little flashes of movement if you stop for long enough.

In The Weedling Wild, one of the essays from our Wander book, How to See Nature by Paul Evans, he turns his attention to the nature that lives in overlooked corners: the verges, edges and in-between places.

I think there is something lovely in that.

Not because every untidy thing needs to become a metaphor, or because we need to know the name of every plant we pass. But because it is a small reminder that not polished does not mean not worth noticing.

It made me think about the days when the “I’ll just…” list gets the better of us.

I’ll just put the washing on.

I’ll just answer that email.

I’ll just sort dinner.

I’ll just get everyone else settled.

And then somehow, the day has gone. The washing is still not folded. The email has multiplied. The hobby is gathering dust. We are not quite as organised, patient or on top of things as we had promised ourselves we would be.

Perhaps this is something we Hummingbirds are learning: we do not have to get everything beautifully under control before we are allowed a lovely thing.

A cup of tea. A few quiet minutes. A slightly wonky make. A look at the world outside.

We do it in the middle of ordinary life, not once we have earned it.

This month, Wander is not asking you to become an expert or turn every walk into a nature lesson. It is simply an invitation to look again.

On your next walk, whether it is beside a river, through a supermarket car park or simply out to put the bins out, notice one small thing growing where nobody seems to have planned for it.

You do not need to photograph it, name it or turn it into a productive moment.

Just notice.

There is more life in the overlooked places than we think.

And you do not have to be perfectly tended, tidy or finished to deserve some attention too.