Nature Journalism - Making Connections
“Tumultuous histories, human and geological, formed this landscape in which I am implicated. And they continue.”
I woke up on Monday morning to a gorgeous sprinkling of snow on the yard in front of my home. As I stood there shivering in front of my bedroom window; a thought occurred to me: it was the first time in three years I had been home for the first snow of the year. After draping the biggest blanket I could find over my shoulders; I shuffled my way back over to the porch. My Walden spot had been transformed into something out of a snow globe. My favorite Japanese maple tree was heavy with snow. At its base, the display of fallen leaves that I had seen for the past few weeks, were hidden under nearly an inch of snow. The flurries started soon after I positioned myself on the step of the porch; its flakes were pulled softly this way and that in the wind. My world was once again quiet with the exception of the wind’s soft whistle in my ears.
I was immediately reminded of my childhood dashes to the kitchen in the middle of the night to take a peek at the thermometer before checking the weather became a quick way to kill time on my phone. When it failed to accurately predict the inclement conditions, my Dad would be the first to do so. He used to say that predicting when it was about to snow was one of his superpowers (in addition to his strange “ability” to predict when a street light was about to go off). I referred to the former as his Secret Snow Power. As I child, I wondered how one could become so connected to nature that they could tell when the nature around them was about to change. And further, what led a person to feel as if they were a part of the world rather than just living in it? Does that change if your ancestors were forcefully brought to it?
Lauret Savoy’s book Trace discusses her connection to the world around her through the exploration of her complex identity and Southern roots (not unlike myself). She frames this through a discussion of race, gender, and heritage in the United States while also addressing readers with thought-provoking questions about their own identities. As I read, I found myself wondering how I would define my relationship with nature (or more specifically, land). My family hails from the deep South and has a history of slavery and social struggle. But because I did not grow up in Louisiana, Texas, or Arkansas like all of my extended family, I feel as if I can’t truly claim the land my ancestors were forced to work as my land. Alternately, I believe that my family members who have spent their entire lives in the South and know the names and stories of those who arrived on the shores of that same land as enslaved individuals can.
The nature I have grown up in, and have developed an affinity for, has been that of the Pacific Northwest: the mountains, the coast, and the plains all in one rainy state I call home. This land has also undoubtedly influenced my identity and connection to nature. While I don’t have my Dad’s talent of beating an all-knowing thermometer to a prediction of snow; I do believe that I am privileged in having grown up here but all don’t claim ownership of it. Other than my Dad, I’m the only person in my family that has had the privilege of growing up away from the South. It’s a reflection of the ever-changing relationship between the land and my identity that is worth exploring further. :)