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Kate Spring

~ growing a deep-rooted life

Kate Spring

Tag Archives: place

Learning Nature’s Language

13 Saturday Jun 2015

Posted by Kate Spring in Nature/Environment

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

earth, ecological literacy, ecology, life, nature, Orion Magazine, place, Robert MacFarlane, teaching

in the forestA heavy rain last night, and now a cool morning.  Tall grasses adorned with seed heads give indication of the slightest breeze, as they dip and swirl as if in conversation.  It’s a language I can’t decipher in words, yet I feel their gentle contentment in the burgeoning sun and the drips of water sliding from their slender leaves.

There is birdsong, as usual these mornings, but I cannot tell you what birds are singing. After 28 years of living, I can identify only the songs of chickadees, red-winged blackbirds, mourning doves, crows and ravens.  I can hear the high screech of hawks overhead, but do not know what type of hawk it is.  For a few years I knew the sound of saw-whet owls and the different beats of woodpeckers, but they are memories of my memory now, and I am in need of a new lesson.

In a recent essay titled Landspeak in Orion Magazine, Robert MacFarlane writes about the deletion of nature-based words from the Oxford Junior Dictionary, and the way human relationship to nature changes as we lose the ability to interact with nature through language.  He writes:

“A basic literacy of landscape is falling away up and down the ages. And what is lost along with this literacy is something precious: a kind of word magic, the power that certain terms possess to enchant our relations with nature and place. As the writer Henry Porter observed, the OUP [Oxford University Press] deletions removed the ‘euphonious vocabulary of the natural world—words which do not simply label an object or action but in some mysterious and beautiful way become part of it.'”

A few weeks after reading MacFarlane’s essay, I heard a commentary on Vermont Public Radio, titled “Documenting the Decline,” in which Vic Henningson notes MacFarlane’s writings, and says:

“As the number of botanists declines and words relating to nature disappear from dictionaries, the evidence suggests we’re becoming strangers to the natural world, victims of self-inflicted ecological illiteracy. And when we no longer understand nature, no doubt we’ll finally stop worrying about climate change.  We’ll still enjoy looking at nature, but as novelist and naturalist John Fowles noted, landscape alone is a “bare lifeless body” without the flora and fauna that give it speech, movement, and dress. ‘Without natural history’ hewrote, ‘the world is only a fraction seen. [Imagine] not knowing any flowers, any birds. [T]o so many, they are meaningless hieroglyphs.'”

It took me 19 years to begin learning the names of trees, plants and wild animals in a meaningful way.  As a student on the Adirondack Semester, I was immersed in nature, and our ecology class gave us the language to enter the landscape.  Six years later I took lessons in the language of Vermont’s natural landscape through the Wisdom of the Herbs School, and I opened myself to a new world of wild edibles and medicinals.  I learned that the natural world is always open to us; transforming our understanding of nature from a “fraction seen” to a whole web of living beings is a matter of transforming our own relationship with the life around us.  It’s a matter of opening ourselves to the wonder of learning and the mystery of the natural world.

Now I can tell you about the differences between cultivated plant varieties you grow in your garden, and how to increase your yields with organic growing practices, but on the edge of the garden the field begins, and beyond that the forest spreads like a waves over hillsides and mountains.  At the chatter of a squirrel or the call of a bird, my son stops and listens, his mouth forming a perfect circle, his eyebrows lifting his eyes wide open in exclamation as he points toward the sound–Mama, did you hear that?!  

I see in him our natural place in the layers of the world; how we are constantly drawn to nature, to learning those layers and becoming a part of the landscape around us, how this is wired within us.  His curiosity wakes up my own, and I realize the joy and responsibility of teaching him this language.  It means I have to learn it, too, and for that I am grateful.

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You Can Plant Beauty

06 Saturday Jun 2015

Posted by Kate Spring in Wildness

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

gardening, growing flowers, inspiration, land, life, nature, photography, place, spirituality

planting flowers

planting flowers

You can plant beauty

You can create beauty

Your life is a unique expression of energy

Your expressions are powerful

How do you choose to move?

 

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Where I’ve Been

11 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by Kate Spring in Farming, Seasons

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

family, farm, food, gardening, home, life, nature, photography, place, seeds, spring, Vermont

pepper seedlingsEvery year the transition to the farming season slows down my blogging.  Outside, the earth is trying to thaw even as snow sloshes down every few days.  Each time I walk to the greenhouse I hear water running in streams beneath the snow, and I linger to hear the flow gurgling under my feet, promising thaw despite the low-pressure cold fronts that persist.

Sun is coming our way, though, and inside the greenhouse we are seeding, watering, up-potting.  Waylon has his own spot in the greenhouse, cuddled with the dogs on the camping pad that Edge has been sleeping on these past few weeks so he can stoke the wood stove fire through the night.  Of course, Waylon toddles all around the gravel floor, making games of putting rocks into yogurt cups and pouring water from one bucket to another as we seed.

The greenhouse is a place of growth for all of us, seeds, toddler, mama and papa: family.

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Happy

11 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by Kate Spring in Seasons

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Tags

life, nature, place, Vermont, winter

snow-hat

It’s been snowing for days, flakes sifting down from the sky.  The shoveled pathway to the yurt has become a chute with snow-walls up past my knees, and yesterday as I hauled two buckets of water up in the sled, one foot left the narrow packed-down trail and I sunk in to my thigh.

It piles up around our little round home, and as the wood stove warms the snow on the roof, it slides and slumps off, growing the pile half-way up the outer walls, and we are thankful for the extra insulation it provides on all the cold nights that dip down below 0–all this snow makes it a cozy winter for yurt-dwellers.

fence line in snow

At this time last year I was stir-crazy, ready for a reprieve along the New Jersey shoreline, but now, I’m happy for the cold and snow.  Happy to stand in the forest and hear the swoosh of snow as hemlock boughs loosen their load.  Happy to look up just at that moment and see the flakes sifting to the ground.  Happy for the split second of weightlessness with each step before my snowshoes compress the lofty top layer of snow.

Happy, too, for the breaks of sun that open up the landscape, warming our faces as our breath puffs out into the cold air.

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When You Need to Change Your Landscape

05 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by Kate Spring in Nature/Environment

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

change, home, life, place, yurt

You don’t have to go to the desert in winter to gain space.

When you need to change your internal landscape, it is helpful to change your external one, but still, it doesn’t mean you need to leave home.

Last night, one week after landing back on the frozen Vermont ground, we finally finished unpacking and cleaned the yurt.  Backpacks and duffle bags emptied and stowed away, kitchen table cleared off, floors swept, and all the sudden the yurt is bigger.

Sometimes all it takes to gain the space we need is a good home cleaning.

 

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What the Redwoods Taught Me

03 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by Kate Spring in Nature/Environment, Travel

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

California, lessons, life, nature, place, Redwood Trees, spirituality, travel

In Big Basin Redwoods SP

As a child, I didn’t understand that vacations were not inherently relaxing.  That was before I knew of making travel arrangements, booking flights and rental cars, saving money and keeping track of spending.  Childhood vacations were whimsical and magical and free of responsibility.

I remember visiting the Pacific Northwest, seeing redwoods for the first time and gaping at their size, at how even after they’d fallen over, their presence pulsed on as nurse trees, giving life to new saplings taking root.

I remember walking along Rialto Beach in Washington State: we went so far down the coast that the tide threatened to keep us trapped atop boulders as it lapped at our running feet.

This is how vacations are supposed to be.

Or at least, this is what I grew up believing.

Our trip to California was our first true vacation as a family, just the three of us, and I think it was magical for Waylon, just as the whole world is magical to a toddler.  For my own part, I wobbled between relaxation and stress, if for no other reason that I am an adult who has forgotten to be present always.

Still, some things came back to me.

On El Capitan State Beach, we walked north along the shore until the tide began to roll in and the steep coastline rocks jutted into the water, cutting off our dry escape.  In reality, only our ankles were in danger, but that immediate excitement infused me as I ran south to the higher ground, thinking of Rialto Beach.

In Big Basin Redwoods State Park, the trees rose up so high we couldn’t see their crowns, and when I put my palm on a cross-section of a recently fallen redwood, it seemed to smile, by which I mean, the steady presence of ancient trees continue to spread out even after they fall.

As children, we go on vacations without expectations.  As adults, we learn to hold our expectations tight, as if we are holding our child’s hand crossing the street and cannot let go.

Eventually, though, we get to the other side.  At some point, we have to open up our hands and release whatever it is we hold.

The Redwoods brought me that relief.  It’s impossible to be among big trees without opening to amazement.  They encircle you, trunks reaching up, canopies opening, roots stretching out beneath your feet.  Being so close to ancient life seemed to slow my own life down, making magic visible again.

John Muir said, “In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”

I’m not sure I can put into words yet what I received, but it wasn’t always what I expected.  The trees, though, they taught me again to slow down, to stand in quiet awe, to understand that life is missed if we are not present.

Inside a Redwood

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Mornings are Quiet, Time is Infinite

22 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by Kate Spring in Writing

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

nature, place, writing

I came to Maine thinking I’d write everyday.  I imagined quiet early mornings, infinite time, creativity pouring out of my fingertips.

We leave tomorrow, and what can I tell you?

The mornings have been quiet, though many I’ve spent with an early-rising one-year-old.

Time, as always, is infinite, though our days may fill up and trick us into thinking it is not.

And creativity?  My fingertips buzz, my chest wells, my mind swirls, and words still come slowly.  I remember that half of the creative process is staring into space.  A wooded lake, trees reflecting in the water, white pines rising on the shore, and in the foreground a baby crawling determinedly in circles: this is the scene filling my eyes as I stare.

And this is what I’ve learned, again: mornings are quiet, time is infinite, and creativity is within me.  It’s up to me to wake up, to be present, to pick up the pen and pour words onto the page.

 

balance

this way: cairn along a Maine trail

 

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Life on the Farm, in pictures

18 Friday Jul 2014

Posted by Kate Spring in Farming

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

family, farm, home, life, photography, place, Vermont

Pebble and YurtSunflowerCilantro seedlingsthrough the grassEdgeWaylon in the gardenIcelandic Sheep in pastureWaylon and Mama scythingfarm picnicgluten-free shortcakesstrawberry shortcakesleepy time

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The Wind in the Grass

19 Thursday Jun 2014

Posted by Kate Spring in Wildness

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

home, inspiration, land, life, nature, place

wild pasture
wild pasture: close up

There is a wild section in our pasture where the grasses reach above our heads. Their long stems topped with seeds seem to breathe with the wind; a long breeze exhales and a thick wave of grass washes to the east.

I stood in the middle of it last night, Waylon on my back, and we listened to the air brushing through the leaves and stems of grass.

There is always so much waiting to flood my days and fill my time. And last night—the list was still long as the sun touched the ridgeline.

But we stood there, quiet, breathing like the wind in the grass, learning how to bend with ease.

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Waffles and Ice Cream: Happy Papa’s Day!

15 Sunday Jun 2014

Posted by Kate Spring in Family

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

family, farm, life, nature, place

This morning:

Waylon wakes smiling, Papa already has chai made, and the three of us laugh as Waylon bounces on the bed.

Papa puts his boots on, gets ready to do chores, and straps Waylon in the backpack.

Outside, clouds blanket the Worcester Range, the cricket song of last night is replaced by bird calls through the trees.  Water is still in the air after two days of rain despite yesterday afternoon’s sun, but it feels good.  We all needed this: the soil, the plants, the animals, and us.  We needed to be quenched, cleansed, refreshed.

It’s Edge’s first father’s day, and today we’ll work, doing what we love, cultivating the garden, seeding a new round of lettuce mix and asian greens, assembling the hoops for a hoop house.  We’ll end the day at my parents’ house with barbecue chicken and wine.  But first, father’s day breakfast!  Waffles with ice cream and slivered almonds.  He most certainly deserves it.

 

Father's Day Morning

Father’s Day Morning, Sheep and chickens in the pasture

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Welcome!

Kate Spring

Kate Spring

Welcome to The Good Heart Life: an organic gardening and lifestyle blog where we grow beauty, joy, and nourishment for the body, soul, and earth. I'm Kate Spring: organic farmer, mother, and chief inspiration officer at Good Heart Farmstead and The Good Heart Life. Grow along with us, and together we'll cultivate a more lively, joyful world one {organic} seed at a time.

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