When I return to my sit spot, I close my eyes, breathe slowly, and tune into my senses:

Sound: I hear distant traffic. There’s a low hum of cars on nearby streets. In my vicinity, I hear rustling leaves, occasional bird calls (a crow?), and the soft creaking of branches swaying in the breeze.

Smell: The air smells earthy, like damp soil, decaying leaves, and a faint sweet fragrance (maybe from a nearby flowering plant). There’s also a touch of warm, sun-heated pavement or brick.

Taste: My mouth tastes neutral, just the faint dryness of air. But there’s a slight metallic tang that comes when I breathe in deeper (humidity mixing with city air).

Feel: I feel the ground beneath me as slightly cool and firm. The air on my skin feels warm and a little humid, with occasional gentle breezes brushing against my face.

When I open my eyes:

I see layers of green. There are trees, shrubs, grass scattered with buildings, walkways, and patches of sunlight and shadow. A large oak towers nearby, its branches filtering light. Particularly with the plant life, I see bushes and groundcover, maybe ivy or ferns. The campus feels intimate: human scale, with nature embedded among the paths and architecture. I notice contrast: shadowed spots under dense leaves and bright sunlit patches on open lawns. Some leaves are stained with early fall color, others vivid green. I see a pathway edging past the sit spot, a building corner in the background, and benches or a garden area. The scene feels calm, a quiet pocket in a busy campus.

Emotionally, I feel grounded and present. The mixture of nature + human structures reminds me how campus is a living ecosystem. There’s a sense of shelter, introspection, and connectivity. Also a slight alertness; I’m aware of being in a public space. But overall, it brings me peace and curiosity.