The ancient song of the spring peepers
Life from the maples: mindful journal prompts, gentle read recos, birdsong—and stories that take flight
Spring comes with a chorus of peepers. No croaks, trills or quacks for these Baroque-loving boys with a dark X on their backs. Known as the cross bearer (Pseudacris crucifer), chorus frogs can utter up to 13,500 high-pitched peeps per night.
The peepers call out from the marshes by the river. Their ancient song travels inside the drops of rain that pummel the bulrushes; raggedy at the edges of emerald ponds like soldiers back from battle. Grey-brown maples, dormant only a few days ago, now blast out fresh leaves, sitting atop branchlets like festive cocktail umbrellas.
Each evening, as dusk descends, the frog symphony heralds new growth, washing away the day's concerns with each note. The world is clean and brightly shining here in the hills.
📚A gentle read
This week, I’m reading:
The Lost Spells by Robert Macfarlane, illustrated by Jackie Morris
I love how the author’s words dance with the artist’s drawings of red foxes, jays, and jackdaws. I’m reading this, not like a novel, but as a meditation to dip into from time to time to centre myself and to delight. Readers will enjoy this much-loved nature writer’s wordplay and lyric interplay.
Would you hew me to the heartwood, cutter? Would you leave me open-hearted?
📝 Mindful writing exercise
Each time I write to you, I offer a mindful journal prompt—a gentle invitation to pause, breathe, and check in with yourself through writing. These prompts are not about perfect sentences or deep reflection (unless you want them to be). Instead, they’re a self-care pause—a moment to meet yourself on the page with curiosity and kindness.
Gather your notebook (or a piece of paper) and a pen. Find a comfortable place on a sofa, a chair at your desk, or on a cushion on the floor. Take a few moments to sense the inflow and outflow of breath. Allow your awareness to follow the breath as it expands your lungs and abdomen and exits through your nose. With each breath begin to let go a bit more.
This week’s prompt:
Consider the sounds that surround you. Maybe you hear a siren in the distance, the hum of the fridge or your cat purring beside you. Let each sound come and go without judgement. Observe how the sounds rise and fall like waves. Feel how they anchor you in the present moment. Enjoy the flow of the sounds that are coming to you and just write about them. Are they high-pitched, low? What's the texture and rhythm of them? How do the sounds influence your emotions, thoughts, your breath?
Try to stay with this burst of thought for as long as it carries you. It might last five minutes or it might only last 60 seconds. Once you feel that the first thought is complete, put the pen down. How can you fold what you experienced into the fabric of your week?
🌿 Soundtrack for slowing down
For a bit of atmosphere while you read or write, here’s a spring (peeper) soundscape to accompany you:
🥣 Food to nourish you
Because self-care isn’t only words on the page, here’s a simple recipe I’m loving right now. I’m on an Ayurvedic cleanse and this creamy number is delicious and dreamy:
Cardamom and Rose Latte
For heart-centred writing
Rose is said to open the heart chakra while cardamom clears the mind.
Steep 1 teaspoon of rose petals and 2-3 crushed cardamom pods in hot water for 5 minutes.
Strain and add frothed milk of choice.
This fragrant, lightly spiced beverage helps when writing from a place of emotional honesty or working with themes of love and connection.
📝 News
I’m thrilled to announce my new podcast The Revolution Will Be Handmade. In this venture I explore how women artists, writers, and makers are reshaping our world through creativity and defiance. Have a listen and leave a comment. Would love to hear from you. In the latest episode Seed Sowing in the Liminal we learn about ecological gardening from Hoann Chan Ignacio.
I’m also excited to tell you that my new course Ease Into Calm With Mindful Writing is open for enrolment. The course begins June 9.
Thank you for being here. Take what you need, leave the rest, and know that your words — even the messy, unfinished ones — matter.
Yours in Ink & Earth,
Lissa M. Cowan
Find more mindful writing resources at: lissamcowan.com
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I write this newsletter on the unceded traditional territories of the Algonquin Anishinabe people who have been stewards of this land since time immemorial. I acknowledge my responsibility as a settler to work toward decolonization and right relations.