Campfire Chat: One Last Good Look Before It Gets Dark

If I’m being honest, the soundtrack of my life lately has been less birdsong and more institutional buzzing. Which is not exactly the woodland ambiance I’m usually after.

But maybe that’s part of why a certain John Muir quote has been knocking around in my brain extra hard lately: “The world is big, and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.”

I’m taking that quote in every direction possible right now — as a reminder to get outside, to pay attention, to make room for wonder, to keep going even when life feels cramped and fluorescent, and to honor the people and animals we love while they’re still here to walk beside us.

So, c’mon and pull up a camp chair.

🎧 On in the Background

Unfortunately? The hum of an overworked school ventilation system. The buzzing from the metal detectors students are entering through. Hallway noise. Classroom noise. My own brain screaming desperately for some natural light.

Yup, I’ve stepped into the classroom this semester to teach digital arts.

And I love the students. I love the teachers. I respect the heck out of the people doing this work every day. But whew, I have not loved the lack of nature. Spending so many hours inside a building with stale air, fluorescent lights, sealed windows, and very little sky has reminded me just how much the outdoors regulates my whole being.

It’s also made me think hard about kids and the lack of nature in schools. I’m not here to bash schools. Schools are carrying a lot. Teachers are carrying a lot. But after being back inside that environment, I couldn’t stop thinking about how many kids spend their days in spaces that can feel more like containment than connection.

That’s what led me to write “Schools Aren’t Prisons. So Why Do So Many Kids Spend the Day Like They’re In One?”

The heart of that piece is simple: kids need daylight, movement, fresh air, outdoor time, and room to be human. Honestly? So do adults.

🌿 On My Mind

That John Muir quote. “The world is big, and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.”

I’ve loved it for years, but lately it’s been landing in a more tender spot.

It makes me think of my dog Honey.

Honey passed this past year after a long, spoiled, very well-loved life. Though to be fair, I was the one who was spoiled by her. She got me through some hard seasons, helped me raise my kids after divorce, and was no joke a protector, calmer, playmate, camping buddy, swim partner, and all-around once-in-a-lifetime dog.

She loved the outdoors with her whole self. Camping, hiking, snow, lakes — she was in. She never met a body of water she didn’t want to launch herself into.

About two weeks before she passed, Liam, our best friends, and I took Honey camping one last time. We loaded her up on pain meds so she could have one more hike in Pisgah State Park in North Carolina. She made it all the way up to a waterfall with us, and we took lots of rest breaks to just soak it in.

And on the way down, I carried her 65-pound body over every steep part of the trail. There were a lot of them. I still don’t know how I did it, other than sheer stubborn love. But I was determined that she have one last hike, one last tent sleep, one last good look before it got dark.

That memory is behind our Walk with Me line in Field Trip Outfitters, our merch shop. It’s crafted from an image of Honey and me on that hike, and it’s for all those once-in-a-lifetime dogs who make our lives bigger, softer, funnier, and better. Some dogs are soulmates with muddy paws. Thanks, Honey, for being mine.

🥾 On the Ground

I’ve been watching the pollinator plants our community conservation club planted in the fall start to come up, and it is giving me a ridiculous amount of joy.

Tiny green shoots should not have this much power over my mood, and yet here we are.

There is something deeply reassuring about seeing life return in a patch you’ve cared for. It’s a good reminder that not all progress is loud. Some of it is underground for a while. Some of it looks like nothing, right up until it doesn’t.

Which, honestly, ties right into another article: “Kaizen: The Case for Small Steps in a Go-Big World."

I am very much a go-big-or-go-home person by nature. I do not half-do things. I wish I were more chill about that, but I am simply not. Still, the older I get, the more I’m realizing that small, steady steps are often what actually move the needle — in conservation, in healing, in work, in family life, in all of it. I thank my mom for that reminder and introduction to the Japanese concept of Kaizen.

The pollinator patch doesn’t become a thriving habitat overnight. You plant. You wait. You water. You trust. You celebrate the little green things when they show up.

🪵 Basecamp

Lots is happening around Field Trip these days, and I’m excited about it.

Our team is growing, which feels both wonderful and a little wild.

We’re welcoming Julie, our new director of social storytelling. You can check out her article on boondocking this month, and there’s more goodness to come from her. Julie and her husband are RV campers, but not the “parked in a giant lot beside six generators and a concrete pad” variety. They do off-grid, nature-connected, comfort-meets-adventure camping, which, in my opinion, is how to do it right. Julie and I worked hand in hand in the corporate world for many years. I’m beyond thrilled she has joined the team. She is one of the most dedicated, creative, collaborative people I’ve ever met—and a sweet soul to boot.

Coretta slipped into my inbox out of the blue, quietly asking about writing for Field Trip, and I immediately wanted to know more. She describes herself as an introverted extrovert, and someone who’s working on being bolder—in life, in the outdoors, and in being fully herself. Honestly? That grabbed me. There’s something really brave about raising your hand before you feel totally ready, and Coretta is doing exactly that. She’s a college student with a soft spot for sunshine, sweatshirts, books under trees, and the kind of camping trip that changes your confidence for good. You’ll be hearing more from her soon, and I have a feeling you’re going to love her.

Nigel has also joined the team as a field photographer. I’ve known Nigel for years now, and he is an incredibly talented landscape photographer. He has a real gift for capturing nature’s beauty as it is, while also using his digital artistry thoughtfully to create something layered and interesting without losing the soul of the place. That balance matters to me. Check out his work on Nautae Glimpse Photography.

It feels good to be building with people who care about getting outside, paying attention, and telling better stories about the natural world.

Want to join this amazing team, learn more about digital publishing, social media, client management, and/or content creation from some pros? We’re looking for interns for the 2026–2027 school year. Focus areas will depend on skill set, interests, and needs. Interested in learning more? Reach out: talktous@explorefieldtrip.com.

🎒 Packing Out

I’ve always been someone who goes full boat once I’ve made up my mind. I can take my sweet time deciding, but once I’m in? I’m in. Which sounds admirable until it runs headfirst into the reality that life is complicated, time is fast, and I do not always have the patience I should when it comes to myself.

So lately, I’ve been working on baby steps.

Not glamorous ones. Not cinematic ones. Just real ones.

That’s probably why the idea of Kaizen hit me the way it did. This reminder that meaningful change does not always come from a big declaration or a dramatic overhaul. Sometimes it’s just one intentional step, followed by another. A little more room to breathe. A little more grace. A little more honesty about what season you’re in.

Sometimes it’s writing the article that won’t leave you alone. Sometimes it’s noticing the pollinator plants coming back. Sometimes it’s building something meaningful, one person and one story at a time. And sometimes it’s carrying your old dog down the steel trail because love asked you to.

I still want the big life. I still want the good look. I still want to see the world before it gets dark.

But I’m learning I don’t have to do it all at once.

Maybe that’s the real lesson here. Go big, sure. But don’t underestimate the quiet power of one small step. Or one slow hike. Or one dog who taught you how to love the world while you’re in it.