Nature is Not My Job

A Rewilding Mind

Hi there, it’s Hillarie! This is a newsletter about nature and how we connect to it. A Rewilding Mind is here to provide ideas, inspiration, and stories to help you return to nature, find to yourself, and create community. Keep reading for my latest thoughts on my journey back to nature.

Learning to Take Interest in Nature

Dear friends,

Last week, we officially crossed the threshold into spring! Does it feel that way where you are? Here in the Pacific Northwest, the white blossoms have arrived on our weeping cherry tree and the slimy creatures—namely slugs, snails, and frogs—are absolutely thriving. And most notably, the few hundred bulbs I planted last Christmas are starting to emerge from the soil!! It’s always a surprise every time I spot a new one, and I tell my husband every. single. time. An afternoon in the freezing cold was totally worth it.

I recall in years past casually noticing plants blooming this time of year but not fully comprehending the rhythms that drove them. Of course the basics of planting seeds were there, but the details beyond that seemed superfluous, and, frankly, not my responsibility. Other people were paid to know about how nature worked, so I was free to focus on my main role as a consumer. Besides, why on earth would I grow something if I can just buy it?

This was my attitude, even though I had great exposure to agricultural life as a kid. I spent a few weeks a year running the prairie in Milbank, South Dakota, where my grandparents were third generation farmers. They raised hundreds of acres of grains, aggressive pigs, lots of sheep, a few donkeys and horses, guineas, chickens, ducks, geese and some other random animals over the years. In front of the house was a huge veggie garden, and behind the house is where my grandparents grew award winning gladiolus in front on a majestic stream. They also had at least 2 dogs named Lucky that got hit by cars.

My uncle had a farm of equal size just up the road and you could smell it before you saw a thing. (My mom calls it a “normal size” farm for South Dakota, were land was sold to European settlers as part of the Homestead Act.) Past the windbreak of towering trees stood three big grain silos and a giant red dairy barn, filled with black and white dairy cows. Across the driveway, stands a dilapidated farm house from the late 1800’s that had been home to several generations. That house, by the way, had been ordered from a Sears catalog, so I’d say it held up pretty well for a century-old Ikea home.

The times spent on the farm, living amongst nature are some of my happiest moments as a kid. I have so many fond memories running around that barn with my cousins and burrowing in the hay loft with the latest batch of barn cats. I’ll always remember the absolute freedom I felt standing in middle of a field, surround by endless prairie.

That experience gave me a deep appreciation of the kind of discipline required to work with nature. However, I got the sense that the financial element of farming warped the relationship from one of reciprocity to one of economy and production. It felt transactional and cold, particularly as the small farms got bought out by corporations that had very little incentive to care for the land or the animals. In addition, outside the farming communities, people often looked down their noses at the agricultural folks, as if the job of knowing our source of food was above them.

So, yea, I never felt like I needed know or had to know much about nature and the rhythms of plant life. As I moved into adulthood, I went on pretending like it was none of by business, which was easy to do with all of the conveniences of a metropolitan tech hub.

I didn’t start paying attention again until we moved in with my in-laws, who have an established gardening/landscaping business in Seattle. Their garden is spectacular, with most of the plants being throw-aways from client jobs. I had the privilege of watching my father-in-law study the space and made judicious decisions about what to do next. It made me curious. I wanted to know how he knew what to do and when to do it. But where the hell do you even begin??

In the next issue, I will share how I developed my curiosity and an understanding of nature.

Until then, I would love to know how your relationship with nature has changed. Was there a moment when you decided you wanted to learn more about nature? Can’t wait to hear about your journey!

Stay curious, be kind, and take care,

Hillarie