I was standing on the bank of the Vlomankill in Henry Hudson Park a few days ago when a simple thought struck me with surprising force:

I need to understand the history of the land and water around the place I call home.

I’ve walked this stretch of the Vlomankill many times, but that morning something felt different. The stillness of the water, the stripped branches of winter, the muted light—together they made me feel as if I was standing in the middle of a story I didn’t yet know. A story shaped by geology, ecology, people, and choices made over centuries.

That’s when I realized: if I’m serious about stewardship, then this is where it begins. Not in theory, not in distant landscapes, but right here—learning the natural and cultural history of Bethlehem, New York, one walk, one question, one discovery at a time.

And as I thought about doing this work locally, it occurred to me that I could do the same in Indiana and Florida, the other places I spend part of each year. Three regions, each with their own story. Three places where I feel connected. And perhaps three starting points for a process that anyone could use to better understand the land beneath their feet.

So this Field Notes entry is the kickoff. A line in the sand—well, mud—where I begin documenting my observations, questions, and discoveries.

This is step one.

Where this leads, we’ll find out together. I already sense a larger article forming for The Nature of Things, one that explores not only this place but the broader idea of “discovering where you live.”

More soon.