Upon returning to Montana, I settled into the wild rhythm so easily – rising with the sun as it emerged from behind the mountains across the Flathead River, spilling both its light and its warmth into my blue and orange Marmot – nestled beneath a sprawling Willow tree. Crawling out from the coziness of my sleep sack, I shed my thick wool socks and thermal sleep clothes, grab a towel, and make my way to the water’s edge.

It’s the perfect entrance, almost as if it were by invitation, this place where the aquatic grasses thin, creating a single person width path from the shoreline out to the deeper water. “Enter here,” the space beckons.The Willow extends her limbs up and out, over and across, providing coverage and camouflage, a place less exposed for my daily plunge.

I remove my shirt and let the crisp morning air dance across my bare skin. My foot hovers inches above the water in expectation of the cool sensation about to meet it.

My feet sink into the sediment and disappear beneath the mud, creating pastel swirls of khaki colored mud with each step. Blades of grass glide past my hips and slip between my toes. My body adjusts to the shock of the 50 some degree water with a sharp inhale and a series of shivers. Who needs coffee when you can start the day like this? The cool water jolting you to be present in the moment, to be present in your body – taking it in with all of your senses.

An Osprey dips low, flying just overhead. I lift my hand in greeting and call good morning as it passes by – indifferent to my nakedness. The Sandhill Cranes call out behind me, their bodies obscured among the cattails and tall wetland foliage. Their presence is known only by the hauntingly beautiful sound of their voices. I wade out until I am chest deep, taking in full, deep breaths of morning air. I cup the water in my hands and let the cool, fresh water cleanse my face. I take a dip, do a quick wash of my body and then I make my way back to air dry beneath the trees – basking in the warmth of the morning sun, letting its rays kiss away the cool droplets that remain.

These slow mornings are something to cherish. Nowhere to be but right where I am. The only time constraint is making it to the Goat Cafe in time – ensuring that I get fresh milk squeezed right into my morning coffee. Add a dash of raw honey or maple syrup and boom – perfection in a cup.

To wake beneath a Willow, knowing your hands will soon grow tired and your thumbs will become calloused from weaving the limbs of one of her sister trees, provides this magical opportunity to connect with the spirit of a tree – who lends its flexible and resilient body to weavers – crafting beautiful and durable baskets of all kinds.

We narrow our possibilities for knowledge and wisdom when we limit it solely to learning from our human counterparts. There is so much that nature can teach as well as provide – in every facet of our lives. But it’s only when we begin to recognize and embrace the interconnectedness of all things, that we start to understand. We are far closer to the rhythms of nature than we are led to believe. But here we are, making our primary concern in life how to make ourselves more profitable. We commodify our other-than-human counterparts rather than seek their companionship and counsel. We get lost in the hustle, in the daily grind, in the chaos of jam-packed schedules. We have lost what the slow and simple can bring to our lives. But here beneath the Willow tree, that is all there is.