When I went to my sit spot by the canal, I noticed the soft sounds of water moving slowly, the occasional splash of a goose dipping beneath the surface, and faint city noises in the background. The smell was a blend of damp earth, water, and a hint of something green—probably from the plants growing along the canal. I took in the peaceful scene: the stillness of the boats, the gentle ripples in the water, the geese gliding along, and plants growing persistently at the edges. It all made me feel calm and grounded.

I focused on a goose swimming by the water’s edge and tried to quickly sketch it. I noticed five things in particular: the layered texture of its feathers, the way it shifted its weight now and then, the leg movements as it swims, the way it lands on water, and the alertness in its eyes as it scanned its surroundings. I wondered about a few things: where it might go when it leaves the canal, if it’s always here or migrates, and how the canal affects its life. The goose reminds me of Wellesley fall, the geese swim in lake Waban and spends the day in front of the library getting some sun.

Thinking about the climate here in London, it’s generally mild and damp, with moderate rain and cooler temperatures—perfect conditions for the greenery along the canal. The slow-moving water and the mix of plants seem adapted to thrive in a climate that doesn’t get too extreme, providing a stable home for the geese and other wildlife here.