Last weekend at the tree farm felt different. While there were numerous springtime cleanup tasks like mowing, weeding, and brush clearing vying for my attention at the farm, I chose something I rarely make time for. I chose to intentionally slow down and scout trees growing in the field.

Over the last several weeks, I’ve glanced at trees while riding by on the mower or given them a once-over while walking from one area of the farm to another, and the trees looked generally healthy from 20 feet away. Nothing jumped out as serious. Scouting is different. Scouting trees is its own distinct task, involving approaching a tree, pausing and looking at the components of the tree in detail; the needles, the old growth, the new growth, the leader, the bark and so on. It’s noticing the colors, irregularities, similarities, sizes, smells, and other nuances not only on the macro level but also the micro.

The reason for scouting trees is a lot like the reason you see your primary care doctor for a physical each year. Even if you’re feeling pretty good, there may be some minor symptoms like a recurring headache or aching knee that could be indicators of a future ailment that could be prevented through lifestyle changes or other early intervention.

Trees are no different. When we're willing to take a closer look, they share a lot about their current and potential ailments. And the earlier we can detect things, the better. Pests are easier to control, diseases are easier to identify, and nutrient deficiencies show up before they become serious.

So I walked each row and stopped randomly at individual trees for review. Once focused on the tree, I viewed each tree system individually and as a whole from as many angles as possible. I made sure to examine the terminal leader, new growth, needle color, undersides of branches, and multiple sides of the tree.

On one tree, after careful examination, I noticed a waxy substance and wool-like, wispy threads on the bright green, fresh new growth shoots. This prompted me to carefully spread the fragile individual needles exposing tiny green pests. Upon further examination with my magnifying loupe, I determined these to be aphids, which are common on new growth and mild infestations are often not a problem on an otherwise healthy tree. I noted my findings in detail on my notes app, and will continue to monitor the situation to determine if I will need to take action, according to the basic practices of integrated pest management.

But here's what struck me as I kept walking the rows. I show up to the farm most weekends with a list and a pace. It's about output, efficiency, and results. Scouting requires the opposite instinct — slowing down, removing distractions, zooming in. And when I did that, I noticed things I would have completely missed at full speed. After spotting the aphids, I zoomed out slightly and found ants and ladybugs nearby. A little research reminded me that ladybugs are a natural predator of aphids — the farm had already deployed its own defense. An ounce of prevention really is worth a pound of cure, and I almost rode right past the whole story on my mower.

What if I applied this same thinking beyond the farm? By slowing down and looking closer — at work, at home, at the people I love — what might I be missing? How often do I move through something without ever really looking at it from a different angle?

That instinct to slow down kept following me home.

My daughter is 10 years old. I'm not sure how that happened. As we head into the teenage years — the years where trust either gets built or quietly erodes — I keep thinking that the same skills that made me a better scout last Saturday might make me a better father. Slow down. Look from a different angle. Pay attention to what's growing and what might need attention before it becomes a problem.

I don't have all of this figured out. But I'm starting to see that the instinct to pause, look closer, and ask what I'm missing has real value — on the farm and off it.

My suggestion for your farm (and life) this week is to walk slower, look from a different angle, and turn over a few branches. You might find a pest problem early or you might simply learn something new about your trees. Either way, the farm tends to teach those who are willing to really look.