A Month From Now

Imagine stepping into one of your most favorite books and entering into the story that you had, up until that moment, only experienced in print. And, then, imagine that you have read that book so many times that some of its passages have become ingrained into your very being, and that reading it feels much like a homecoming. I have several such books, but most of them are of fiction, and their settings are inaccessible, but for the imagination. But, there is one book, one I have been reading for many years, that long ago sparked a deep longing for land to roam, creatures to observe, plants to recognize and greet in season, and a life lived in companionship with the wild. 

Back when I first started reading A Naturalist Buys and Old Farm, by Edwin Way Teale, I rightly assumed that I would never own a vast number of acres composed of woodlands, wetlands, fields and ponds. Initially, I balked against what I considered to be my lack of opportunity, but in time, I realized that I could steward the half-acre with which I had been entrusted for the benefit of wildlife, and for the joy of watching all who came in response. And that is what I did, and for several years the list of visiting birds and insects grew, and their presence and the beauty of the hundreds of species of flowers, trees and shrubs brought blessing each time I stepped out of my front or back door. 

Time passed and we moved, and moved, and moved yet again - three houses in 5 years, though, as it turned out, the first and third house were one in the same. In each new yard, I planted and got to know the creatures who came to live alongside my husband and I, but the longing for a place to belong, such as Edwin and his wife, Nellie had, still haunted me, now and again. Last February, I got to wondering about what had happened to Trail Wood, their home...was it still wild, did someone who loved it now own it, or had it been bulldozed and built upon, unrecognizable in all respects? An on-line search brought me to the Connecticut Audubon Society and to their ownership of Trail Wood, as Edwin and Nellie had bequeathed it to them, for the good of their land, and all who might want to come and experience it for themselves.

But, there was more...The CT Audubon, now offers an Artist-in-Residence program for four artists, two visual artists and two writers, each summer and each artist lives for a separate week at Trail Wood, working on their craft and living in the Teale's house and on their land. The instructions for applying were straightforward, and the application period was to close one week from the time I read of the opportunity. I surveyed some of my past writings, and some of my current musings and thought, "Well, why not?! I can keep applying year after year, and perhaps one year they might take me." And that was what I did. The writer's submissions could be up to 20 pages, and mine was that exactly. I filled out the myriad pages required, along with an artist's statement, and electronically sent the whole package off. 

To my great surprise, a few months later, I was accepted. I had just come home from a personal, silent retreat at a beautiful spot in eastern Virginia, overlooking a river that hosted nesting osprey and migrating loons and I was filled with the wonder of that weekend. As I began reading the email, I fully expected it to say that they thanked me for my submissions, but had chosen other artists. Instead, somewhere into the reading, I realized that they were thanking me for applying and would pleased to have me come, as one of the four. A few weeks later I was curious and wrote and asked why I had been chosen. I was humbled by the answer. "Your application, in my view, communicated much the same kind of spirit that the Teales possessed: an appreciation for the land and its inhabitants, an understanding of the fragility of nature and the need to work hard to protect and preserve it, and a strong, practiced belief in sustainable living...the Teale's door was open to one and all. I think they would have appreciated the talents and environmental ethic reflected in your application."

My submitted artist statement sums up why I write and what I would like any works that I create to achieve: The natural world has been where I have felt most at home for all of my adult life. As I have lived in many different places, for different reasons, the outdoors that has been my comfort and encouragement and has long been a significant part of my identity. I write, primarily, essays about the natural world and the life found there, and my aims are three-fold. I write to present the natural world as an accessible place, full of wonders and mysteries, for those who are not yet acquainted with it, in hopes that they will begin to see it with new eyes, and learn to care for it. I write, for all who will listen, about our human responsibility to care for the land and its creatures, and present easily implemented steps that people may take to do so in their own home landscapes. And lastly, I write for people of faith who need the reminder that we are called to be stewards in caring for the Creation, and that doing so is an integral part of life with God. As such, my writings are not the technical terminology of scientists, but more lyrical, poetic glimpses into the life of the various ecosystems I encounter on a regular basis. My hope is that, as a result, people will be intrigued and drawn into the practice of noticing, and thereby enter the more sacred practice of caring and protecting. I have been reading Edwin Way Teale for the last 25 years, never knowing that he and Nellie had left their beloved home to the Connecticut Audubon Society. As I worked to prepare this application, I have realized just how deeply his writings and care for the land have shaped and influenced my own.

And so, less than a month from now, I will travel to Connecticut, past the small town of Hampton, through the rural landscape that has endured, over the small bridge and up the long drive of Trail Wood. Whatever I find there, some 42 years after Edwin wrote of his daily exploratory excursions, I will be stepping into the story I have known almost by heart for the last couple of decades. For some unimaginable reason, I will be privileged to walk Edwin's and Nellie's trails, to listen to descendants of the insects they listened to, to dip my feet into their pond, to watch the night sky from their hilltop and to revel in the mid-summer fragrances and peace that they so loved. I am exceedingly grateful.