By Heather Harris
A friend recently turned me on to the author Jim Harrison and I hope everyone someday finds a wordsmith who connects the dots the way that he has done for me. In “Dalva” and “The Road Home,” Harrison explores, through the voices and thoughts of many characters, our human range of attentiveness to the natural world. Some are so completely caught up in the circus of modern existence that the thought of walking outside and encountering even a duck is filled with terror. Others seem to be almost magical extensions of nature itself, so in tune with the heartbeat of the earth and its creatures, that sleeping inside a house incites the same amount of fear.
In my daily rigmarole I tend toward the former state, cursing the dew from the grass on my work shoes, resisting the hair frizz and sweat that Midwestern summer humidity brings, all heightened by my hyper air-conditioned work environment. Additionally, with the type of connection most of my generation is now steeped in, the loss or lack of the screened devices that were void in my youth, even for a few minutes, can be anxiety-inducing.
I challenge us all to carve out time each day this month to break away from the hypnosis of our screens and schedules and to dive into the abundance of the natural world around us.
But my core self (and I propose, all of our core selves) is truly connected to the natural world — the environment in which I find the most peace, solace and beauty. Many of us have become so stressed and busy that it can seem almost comically strange to sit still outside by ourselves and simply listen, breathe and be content in our solitude. But doing so results in such beautiful reward, even if we are unable in those moments to abandon our modern devices.
On a recent weekend, for example, I sat in slight end-of-work-week exhaustion, soaking in the serenity of the oak forest through the window. I texted with my friend, who sat on the porch of their childhood home in a similar landscape, just taking it all in. They captured and described the sound of the wind through the trees in the foothills leading down to the house, the bright activity of a red-breasted grosbeak and hummingbird, the symphony of summer busyness whipped up by all the unseen creatures, all alongside a babbling brook that winds along a rustic Driftless highway. They concluded that we are in the middle of such abundance.
That word propelled me into another level of awareness and appreciation for late summer in southwestern Wisconsin, something that observing can help us make time stand still for a while. So, I now challenge us all to carve out time each day this month to break away from the hypnosis of our screens and schedules and to dive into the abundance of the natural world around us.
Take time to reach a state of awe regarding the mighty gnarled oaks, or the vast rivers that carve limestone sculptures in their corridor walls.
Meander through a small town farmers market and bask in the bounty that late summer here brings — the piles of lush leafy greens, all the colors of the rainbow realized in edible gems and flowers, like some kind of candy land.
Pay attention to the scent and density of the summer air that is almost hazy with heat, pollen and bugs — a microscopic super-highway.
Sit by the edge of one of our state park lakes, listening to the frogs and crickets, watching as fat fish trouble the still surface of the water with a playful splash.
Sit still until a deer or rabbit wanders past, or watch the journey of a hawk or turkey vulture scanning the ground for snacks. Feel the fine hairs of a found feather.
Bite into a juicy peach, pear or apple, letting the juice run down your chin, study the veins of a big leaf of kale, notice the bushes dripping with berries.
Bite into a juicy peach, pear or apple, letting the juice run down your chin, study the veins of a big leaf of kale, notice the bushes dripping with berries.
Bake a pie or can some preserves and share it with those who don’t have the means or time. Pick a bouquet of roadside wildflowers and do the same to brighten someone’s day.
Breathe with the tempo of the wind through the trees, marvel at the moving constellation of fireflies, return to the eternal summer of childhood.
Capture it all if you feel compelled, in words and photos to share with friends and family. Encourage others to engage with the height of summer in the place we are so lucky to inhabit, before we enter another long winter. Find balance in life with connection and disconnection, nature and modernity, rat-race and stillness.
Give and take of the abundance!
Heather Harris is a fourth- generation Mineral Pointer and director of Marketing at Overture Center for the Arts in Madison. She is a mother, occasional writer, artist and actor and a life-quirk enthusiast.
Driftless Terroir (ter-WAHR) is a series featuring guest voices celebrating the intersection of land and culture — the essence of life in the Driftless Area — with topics including art and architecture, farming and gardening, cooking and eating, fermenting and drinking, and more. To read past columns, see voiceoftherivervalley.com. To contribute to Driftless Terroir, e-mail info@voiceoftherivervalley.com.