#NatureWriting

[sunnyanddumb98]

Don't mind me just quoting myself "In my dream, when turning, the bus tilts so much that I see directly at the sea. I love watching the sunset from that road: the ships full of containers, the sun shining over the sea like fireworks or champagne, the sea lions diving from the ruins of an ancient port, the teenagers on skates, teenagers with beer, teenagers on weed, everyone sitting on the rocks among seagulls, staring at the sea, like meerkats or sunflowers. Toddlers and shiny things "

[frnwhcom]

John Muir’s contributions to conservation and national parks are significant, yet his legacy is marred by his era’s racist views toward Native Americans and other ethnic groups. Notably, Muir was instrumental in the creation of the National Park system and co-founded the Sierra Club. His writings inspired many to value and protect nature, infusing the environmental movement with respect and stewardship philosophies. However, critical examination of his life reveals a complex figure with profound achievements alongside reflective prejudices of his time.

[wanderlustandwildflowersblog]

Source: Unknown

“We need the tonic of wildness...At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.”

― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

[fernycreek]

Garden Meditations

Out the window there are about 3 or 4 cute little Superb Fairy-wrens fluttering about and chirping away in the rain soaked vibrant-green garden. Such chipper little birds. The old beautiful pin oak watches over us, cooling the surroundings - nature’s airconditioner you could say. The setting sun to the north-west glows a warm yellow on the trunks of the mature eucalyptus across the road which have absorbed the wisdom of time. The window is open after the cool change has come through so I can hear the sounds of the wrens drinking and bathing in the bird bath. I like the delicate sound of them flapping and hopping in the water. It would be nice to record for a music piece. I love the calm sounds of nature. 

DM.

[mumbled-tea]

Take a glance at

Day night up downs are required in life, but can you also lift your head up sometimes? Take time out of your work you workaholic, and give it to mother nature time to time.

Just get up early one day and watch the sunrise, the birds will sing a good morning song for you. Stand in your terrace instead of staying in bed, you'll know what cuddles by the nature feels like.

A flock riding the blue and white sky, in different patterns that always amaze children. If you see a healthy plant with blooming flowers, the plant is greeting you a good day ahead.

Have you ever seen a swaying tree and rumbling leaves in a windy evening? As if floating in air, dancing every beat off, in contrast with the enchanting sound of wind.

See it with the view of a nature photographer, and feel the surroundings like a writer. Nature is the therapist you're looking for, it always have a cure to your stressful routine.

[thomasottio]

[capecodartandnature]

Finding joy in ordinary everyday things may be a good antidote for depression caused by our increasingly overwhelming world. My latest column is in the link in my bio. #greenheron #birdpainting #capecodchronicle #naturewriting https://www.instagram.com/p/CrGFztJu4jU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[thomasbombadilius]

I read Deep Country by Neil Ansell. I picked up this book on a whim last time I visited Hay-On-Wye and thought I’d give it a go. Encouraged by one of the reviews on the cover that called Ansell a “latter day Thoreau” I was expecting a short book with some philosophical treatises on the nature of humanity when reflecting in an environment stripped of the comforts of modernity. Of that assumption I got……a short book. Whichever reviewer likened Ansell to Henry David Thoreau was doing them both a disservice as, beyond the concept of Ansell retreating to a remote cabin, there are no similarities. Less a political statement, the author goes off to live a life of solitude in the Cambrian mountains on a whim and soon discovers the joy of living a quieter existence. Given time away from distractions, Ansell is able to dedicate his free time to familiarising himself with the wildlife, particularly the birds! Oh boy does he talk about birds a lot! The book starts off with some lyrical chapters about nature and humanity but starts to drip feed in paragraphs about the feathery visitors that he received in his time in the cabin. This soon becomes a torrent of bird related facts that I was left wondering when he was going to move onto literally any other animal. After a short section that started off with him hiking over the moorland which quickly switched to him talking solely about a ptarmigan he’d disturbed, I had to check who else had read this book and I soon noticed that it had received rave reviews from RSPB associated groups and bird spotters. Not so much a latter day Thoreau, Ansell is more a latter day Emily Williamson (who was one of the founders of the RSPB, I literally looked her up for the sake of this review)! Whilst his writing is lyrical and transported me to a beautiful place, I couldn’t help but feel, by the end of the book, I was reading the chapters of Moby Dick that focused on the whaling industry when I’d been told that there was a really good story about the folly of man and a bloke called Ishmael! Read this is you like birds! #bookstagram #books #naturewriting https://www.instagram.com/p/CnuVeO3shr6/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[theperfectbath]

There is a legend that speaks of a Forest, ancient and wise, hidden from humans, protected by mountains. Only the trusted may enter. To find your way from beyond the Wandering Ridge is rare, through mist and pitfalls, past sparkling gems, around false paths, with a glimmer of hope to light your way. Trust your toes. They know more than you think. I’ve started a blog called Tales of Mosswood Forest. It’s a celebration of nature, imagination, healing, favorite recipes, retellings of ancient tales, garden adventures, and other things I love and hope you do too! Find it through our website, link in bio. Or search Tales of Mosswood Forest. It’s very new, just a seed, but that’s a lot more than a thought, which it’s been for a very long time. I’m glad you’re here at the planting. I hope you’ll enjoy watching it grow! Let me know, what stories or topics might you be most excited to read about? ✨🦔🌲🌙🌱🐢 Map by me 📸 pexels #stories #forest #naturewriting #fantasywriting #healing #healingjourney #blog #naturelover #naturelovers #garden #map #fantasymap #mosswood #moss #talesof #mosswoodforest (at St. Clair Shores, MI) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cno6UvaLwBC/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[megbits]

It’s been years since I’ve been on Tumblr, and in the meantime, I began a Substack focused on our relationship to land and place in a time of climate chaos, with a focus on land return, reparations, and questions of belonging. Hoping I can do some sharing and thinking here that fits into these themes but doesn’t quite make it into the longer Substack pieces. Here’s the lead-in essay to the 2022 recap, to give you a taste of what’s been going on over there:

“The two-year anniversary of Unsettling has come and gone with the recent holidays. Like many others who observe the winter solstice, I took that day to reflect upon what I might leave behind in the dark and what I hope to grow with the light. My own ritual tries to make the practice material, sitting in the actual dark until I am sure of what I am releasing in the old year and only then lighting a candle as I speak aloud what I wish to grow as the sun returns.

This year I sat in the dark a long, long time, trying to sense and see the themes of the year, assess personal challenges that were ready at this particular moment to be looked squarely in the face and then let go of. Only I came up empty.

Ritual can accomplish many goals. One of them is a sense of agency, the performance of intent. This gets extra play in a culture centered on individualism, with all its related focus on self-help or self-actualization. That this is the focus in my own solstice ritual may be why it took a very long time for me to accept that there were no personal demons to lay to rest just at this moment—that what would be staying in the dark had been chosen for me, and that “laying to rest” was, this year, quite literal. It felt too obvious, but the truth of it was bare and real, the memory of gathering with all of my siblings to bid farewell to one of our parents not yet a week old.

At the beginning of this year, I wrote a lot here about rivers—the harm that human industry has wrought on them, our attempts to control them, the resulting consequences on ways for living in common. On the solstice, the image of a river kept appearing to me once again. Rivers, those vast and shifting beings that channel and carry so much.

One of a river’s powers is its ability to carry the earth along with it—be it boulders moved by rapid glacial melt or the tiniest grains of sand—and then, just as importantly, to leave that earth behind. Neither the carrying nor the leaving perhaps quite fits with our sometimes narrow notions of agency. But the growth of so much life—including our own—depends on rivers as major agents of change: all those centuries of delta deposits have made much of human civilization possible. The mountains cut down and the oceans swell and all the world is fed along the way as rivers pick up and let go, pick up and let go.

No wonder rivers are classic metaphors for both change and life. There in the dark, though, I began to wonder if we aren’t overly stuck in one particular riverine analogy. I’m thinking of the classic “you never step in the same river twice,” which places us humans on the banks, separate from the water, choosing when to step in and out of the flow of change. This emphasis may not have been intentional, coming from Heraclitus, famous for thinking about flow and impermanence. Still, we end up some place quite different if we conceive of ourselves not as spectators on the shore but as rivers ourselves, receiving and carrying unexpected gifts and weights from the world, all of which we must leave behind, thereby transforming both the channel in which we flow and the objects we have borne as surely as they transform us. That we may not actively choose what we carry or when we must bid it farewell in no way diminishes neither the importance of our action nor or power as actors.

So what have we channeled this year at Unsettling? Where all did we go and where do we find ourselves now at year’s end, and what got polished or broken apart on our way? Here are some of 2022’s major themes, some planned and some pleasantly unexpected:”

Read the rest at unsettling.substack.com.

[sunnyanddumb98]

he first time I hiked Carbon Hill, I realized my favourite cousin and I were drifting apart for the stupidest reason. It had always been there, and despite it, we became close. But I think the recession made it harder to ignore—our tax brackets seem farther apart, not just in what we can afford but in how we speak, in our hopes and dreams. Before, it wasn’t something we really thought about, but now, what I feel is an integral part of myself isn't something she even considers in her world. blissfully.

[rogerrcoyle]

nature writes

when nature speaks… a cross, the light, the spirit!

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Resting Place by Theresa Hickey

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/resting-place-by-theresa-hickey/

Theresa Hickey is an award-winning poet, free-lance writer and lifelong learner. Prior books include Raising the Child, Sighs of a Gracious Nature and Shy, published by Finishing Line Press (2020). Shy was awarded a 2021 Poetry Book Award by the Catholic Media Association of the U.S. and Canada. Boston Globe Book Reviewer, Nina MacLaughlin, has praised her work and compared it to Mary Oliver’s: “The author focuses on life devoted to an ongoing search and questions of spirituality and faith . . . . ‘life lived in union with Spirit.’” Her work has appeared in Still Point Arts Quarterly, New England Memories, Halcyon Days, FaithND (Notre Dame), NatureWriting, Lifespan and other anthologies. You may contact Theresa at theresadhickey@gmail.com if interested in ordering books for fundraising projects, faith-education programs or gifts. Proceeds from sales will be donated to food banks or other nonprofits. #poetry #spirituality #Catholic

PRAISE FOR Resting Place by Theresa Hickey

” A sense of wonder in both the awe and questioning sense satiates many of these poems, reminding us of possibilities for change, for something new to crack everything wide open.”

–Nina MacLaughlin, The Boston Globe Book Reviewer

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

[fernycreek]

Western Port Bay Musings

There are many things I love about Victoria’s Western Port Bay. What first comes to mind is the interactions with this unique coastline through the practice of surfing. When the larger swells of Autumn and Winter make their way up into the bay, it’s not unusual to find yourself parked along a back street of Shoreham a couple hours before high-tide, pulling on a wetsuit with the ground damp beneath your feet. The stroll through the campground and down the little single track amongst the wet eucalyptus and out onto the beach strewn with seaweed, is always enjoyable. It’s a settling moment before paddling out into the liquid walls peeling along the reef with the aid of a grooming offshore NW wind. 

In a lull between sets at Honeysuckle Reef, I like to look up and down the immediate coast with the hilly farmlands rising above to the west and Point Leo to the east. The silhouettes of surfers at the various breaks bob up and down as they stare out to sea in a meditative state. This habit orientates or places oneself within this coastal landscape. 

There is a certain charm and character to this stretch of coastline - a comforting and familiar feeling which is always present. This favourite and regenerative spot continues to draw me back ever since I first surfed here many moons ago.

DM.

[mumbled-tea]

Green

What comes to every mind when they hear green? Something that enhances nature called greenery, but something with many variations and twist. This color "Green" alone can touch every keen. We call it the color of peace, freshness and renewal, and feeling of fur-like grass around, soft and serene. New leaf covered with droplet, as it always be, no one can deny the comfort and vibrant it gives.

But It can also be something no one heard or seen. As it goes darker, nature can also turn spine-chilling. What holds in darkness behind lushness and mist? A feeling of something creepy and unforeseen. Shades from light to dark hold different meaning. Sounds of creatures growling from the midst. Green have everything from calmness to thrill.