The good kind of small, like standing by a lake just before sunset.

Every so often, I get the urge to go somewhere quiet. Not to escape, exactly—just to remember what it feels like when things slow down and the world gets big again.

Not “climb-a-mountain-and-have-a-revelation” big. More like “pull over by a lake and sit with your coffee” big. That gentle kind of smallness, where the air feels still and the mind finally unclenches.

We Don’t Need Big Landscapes to Feel It

Wisconsin’s not known for dramatic peaks or sweeping deserts. But maybe that’s the secret. We have our own kind of awe—subtle, steady, shaped by water and woods.

It shows up in the fog lifting off a field on an early drive.
In a line of pines so quiet it feels like you’re walking through memory.
In the hush that settles over everything just before a summer storm.

You don’t have to try so hard to find it. You just have to notice.

There’s a Reason We Keep Heading “Up North”

Sometimes it’s tradition. Sometimes it’s habit.
But often, it’s just a feeling. That pull to grab a coffee and a Glazer from Kwik Trip, put on an old playlist, and drive toward trees and lakes and less noise.

It’s not about the destination. It’s about what happens on the way—how things get quieter, looser, softer.

It’s about remembering that the world doesn’t ask anything from you up there. It just exists. And lets you exist too.

The Places That Give You Space

It’s usually not the overlook with the sign.
It’s that stretch of trail with no one else on it.
That dock you always return to.
That spot on the hill where the wind keeps the bugs away and you can see the whole valley.

They’re not secrets. They’re just quiet.

A Little Bit of Awe Goes a Long Way

Feeling small—really small, like part of something larger—can be a relief.
You don’t have to hold the whole world up.
You’re just in it. And that’s enough.

So maybe this is your sign to take the long way home.
Stop by the lake.
Watch the clouds move.
Let the world feel big again.

You’ll still be you when you come back. Maybe just a little more settled.

Photo by Alex Simpson on Unsplash