What it Means to Participate in Land Restoration

We stopped by Claridon Prairie this fall and took in the sight of a thin prairie remnant stretching one mile east along railroad tracks. If you don't know about it and want to, check it out here. This little prairie strip contains more than 75 species of plants and they offer us an example to emulate or to learn from. Standing there I felt simultaneous horror and joy. Horror at the unbelievable take-all attitude of certain humans, but also joy in the wisdom and genetics of the plants in front of us.  

Land restoration is an obsession for us; it works so well and gives such great joy we can hardly think of anything else. We each used to have so many diverse interests and as we get older and we observe the planet around us, we find our interests narrowing to planet work and planet observation. It's a delight to have this clarity and this action we can take for feelings of helplessness and grief and love and joy! 

We humans have some mighty land restoration work to do everywhere and private land is where much of this restoration must take place. It feels good to be needed by Planet Earth doesn't it? So many of us feel like Earth would be better off without our species, but we MUST remember, we came from nature. There is no questioning this. The wisdom of ancient people exists. The science and history exist. In Biophilia E.O. Wilson says society gave us an evolutionary advantage and that's when our species diverged greatly from nature and so it seems within society (especially a fair and equal society) is where the path back might come from. 

This autumn we spread seed and planted roots for rare and at-risk forest plants. 

Ginseng seed:

Our personal resilience in life comes from action and so we created new woodland plant propagation beds. In this new area, we packed the soil full of hopes and dreams and black cohosh, bloodroot and white trillium roots. Planting the future we are. Planting plants to repopulate the lands we call home is the plan, but also to share to repopulate other lands too.

Holding these roots felt full of power! Defiance! Resistance! We will not give up. Not ever. The restoration here is small scale, but it's revolutionary.  

Roots left to right: black cohosh, bloodroot, white trillium:

Steve and I met and connected through a shared interest in nature restoration and nature observation and it's what unites us. To find shared interest amidst love is a great gift. This autumn we noticed no barred owls calling and the red-shouldered hawks we still heard, but much farther away than our backyard; strange! These two bird calls have been the backdrop of our entire 14 years living here. What changed? It wasn't until one evening I sat reading next to the open window that I knew why. It came in two note calls and then additional calls. All "hoots." OMG! I went flying down the stairs to Steve to tell him, "GREAT-HORNED OWL!" Yes, a great-horned owl moved into the neighborhood. Will they stay? We don't know, but I'm certain some nights not too long from now, we will stand in the cold and listen and we will greet them as neighbors. 

During the duration of our living here, we've also never heard coyotes. Never once. We used to live in a place where coyotes ran the drained river valley behind our house and sang and sang. It was a thrill to hear them so it was a surprise when we never heard them here. We have farm land surrounding us here as well, but we also find much more intolerance of this species here. Once a coyote showed up on our wildlife cam and we rooted for them, so glad to think of them skirting the edges of the land, staying in the shadows, trying to survive. This fall, two nights in a row, we heard two singing coyotes right out our open windows. JOY! Our neighbors messaged us equally excited and we all agreed to tell no other humans. The coyotes told everyone they were here, but maybe everyone else was otherwise occupied and didn't hear the message: "We are here. We survive." 

Today we are cloudy and cold, but we are within grasp of the winter solstice. There are just a few seconds of daylight left to lose and on gray days, sunny days, long days, short days, we smile and think of the great-horned owl and coyotes. We notice the shift in the land we live on as it embraces the changing plants and changing web of life and perhaps notices the humans that are working to be kin again. We explore the lands around Ohio and always find magnificence in one form or another. It's everywhere when we are open: listening with our ears, feeling with our feet, our exposed skin, looking with our eyes. 

When we don't chatter too much, we notice things. Like this small forest with beautiful, old trees and an entire shrub understory full of spicebush. Rarely do we see abundant shrub layers in forests, that are not invasive and non-native, and we've been offered many reasons, but so far, the reasons don't mesh with what we've read historically and what we observe. This is a topic we will continue to explore. Below, Steve stands next to a shagbark hickory and associated white oaks with an abundant shrub layer of spicebush. 

Disturbance is a major player in the way ecosystems shape themselves and offer habitat to shifting species. Was the spicebush filled forest disturbed or only lightly disturbed? Was it tended by humans? Minnie Pearl, Luke and Alvin spent an entire week observing a major disturbance on the land where we live; disturbance anywhere is often quite difficult for some species and the disturbance here was most certainly quite difficult for us Homo sapiens. Minnie Pearl didn't really care:

But, Luke and Alvin thought hell moved into and around our house:

In the evenings when the sounds stopped, they rested and even found comfort in one another. It's a big deal around here if Alvin (white long hair) can tolerate the touch-buddy Luke. 

Only two sassafras grow here on this patch of land, both planted by us. They are a common tree not far from here that can be quite abundant, but since they are not common here, we are very attached to them as we've witnessed them grow and win prior challenges. When this sassafras got caught underneath a lowering dump truck bed, I yelled, "there goes the sassafras!" with quite a bit of sorrow in my voice. The digging up and subsequent burying of so many of our other plant friends already had us in a strange state of numbness, but the contractor on the ground saw the tree when they were nearly horizonal and released them. The sassafras lives with many bruises and wounds, but so far stands on the survivor list.  

The septic installation went great and just in time before the soil was too saturated for working and will be finished in the spring. Until then, we think on how we might utilize this empty space for habitat and best care for our sewage treatment system. Everything is an opportunity.

Steve got to work immediately helping the soil feel a bit of tending. The 50% pore space of noncompacted soil is currently about zero, but plants and critters and time, lots of time will heal our mark. 

Restoration = relationships and we are in personal relationship with the nonhuman life here. It's a good thing. It hurts when plants and animals lose their lives because of our land use patterns or desires. As a species, we should recognize all choices have a trade off and often they are not ours to make, even though we live like they are. Honorable living. That's what it means to participate in restoration....a path to honorable living. Shared living. Shared land. 

Pirate spider egg sac: 

Thank you friends who participate in this necessary human work. It's wondrous to deeply know some of you and to know others are out there doing the same thing, giving your time, tending the land, fostering relationship through restoration and walking the path of honorable living. Communities of dedicated humans do wondrous work. High fives to all!

Sam Fender, People Watching

The R(evolution) of Indigenous Foodways - Chef Sean Sherman (Savanna Institute)

Finding a Way Forward, United and Strong

Well friends, we are 13 years into this restoration project and the plants are astonishing in their growth, the fireflies are flashing like never before and I cannot believe anyone thinks saving the world is not possible. The challenge is getting the Engine to Turn. How do we do this? How do we bring respect, love and compassion back into the world on a massive scale? I don't know except for one act after another, after another, after another. 

Bottle Brush grass is looking splendorous and offers foliage to caterpillars, seeds to birds and mammals and beauty to all of us. 

The Eight-spotted Forester moth lays her eggs on Wild Grape and Virginia Creeper...

and we find her progeny on the grape vine under the windowsill. The Land is more wild than it ever has been and we love how we feel amongst the wildness. It's like a coming home. 

Young American Persimmons are growing a few female flowers and dropping them as they continue to prepare for the heavy commitment of bringing a seed to fruition.

Blue Flag Iris and Silky Dogwood shade the waters sheltering Green Frogs. The weather didn't work out for an American Toad movement again this year, but next year will be the third try and you know what they say...it's the charm. 

White Avens, a native wildflower, is flowering abundantly in the part shade here, right now, on this Land. We didn't plant them, but the seeds found their way there and planted themselves. Now little sweat bees are seeking bloom after bloom after bloom and finding sustenance. 

Freedom comes with letting plants grow where they want to grow and not keeping them tucked tidily into beds. Edit, sure, but let the plants feel free. Let yourself feel free. It changes everything. 

We enjoy this freedom. Minnie Pearl, our elderly cat, sometimes sits on her rug outdoors with us now (NO hunting occurs). She hated the outdoors after a rough youth, but now in her maturity, she wants to feel the breath of the plants, the breath of the warm winds and the comfort of those who love her. We all can change. 

And so, we do too, we change. We adapt. We pause. We are thoughtful in our response. We grow. We barely know Persimmon South, our second restoration project amongst the beloved power house of conservation work - Arc of Appalachia, but we are anxious to. We planted American Persimmons earlier this spring to start the wildlife habitat restoration of native plants. Steve found the hill top fertile soil eroded at the base of the hill and so we planted there, where nutrients and water collect. With all that feels wrong in this world, we offer our love and our efforts. 
 

We are grateful for the others that do this too. It takes bravery, a risk or perhaps just a desire to say enough sitting on my bum, running around buying things and just get to work remembering where we came from and how we fit into this beautiful world. United Plant Savers is doing just that. 

A portion of this land was strip-mined for coal...

and you can still see the coal seams in the high walls. Thanks to the strength and perseverance of humans to right these wrongs and the hanging on of nature at the edges, this area is diverse, abundant and full of life. 

Amanda Horn's art reminds us of the power of seeds and the power of plants. 

Plants are propagated like this Goldenseal...

and plants, like this Toadshade Trillium, grow and reproduce freely in magnificent, protected forest. 

 

There is our optimism; there is your optimism. Even if they don't translate to hope, optimism is all we need. We can get this engine to turn. We can love one another. We can love the nonhuman life of the world. We can stop stripping the trees from the forests for bourbon oak barrels, for palm oil, for yet another field of soy and corn. We can stop pretending our chocolate is not being harvested by enslaved children or that our electricity comes without a high, high price. We can stop filling in wetlands for another lawn of mowed grass or a place to park extra cars. Let's be mindful. Let's be educated. Let's do our research before we believe what is presented to us on social media. Let's get to work. United and Strong. 

We love you all! Thank you for your good work in the world. 

Soundtrack: I will Find a Way by Jackie Venson

Summer of Sweetness and New Beginnings...

I missed the first flock of 30 broad-winged hawks kettling higher and higher into the sky, but I didn't miss the next 20; Steve made sure of that, dear love of mine. 

We haven't missed the thousands of monarchs and green darner dragonflies resting and feeding in the plants or cruising over.  Migration is a time we pay rapt attention. Everything is changing, everything is in flux and we find ourselves caught between two worlds.

Every morning we get up, make our coffee and sit at our table with the cats and look out the south door towards the cup plant, Lactuca, pokeweed, ragweed, spicebush and Mother Black Walnut. We wait with anticipation for the sun and start excitedly sharing directions where to look and descriptions of color patterns when the warblers and other migrating birds and insects come into view. 

In the afternoon, we lay in our west facing chairs and watch the western sky, a highway leading to lands far, far away. I can't get over it. How we don't have to chase migration. How these plants growing right here on this land are so filled with insects and fruits and seeds, that birds and insects migrating to Mexico, Central and South America are stopping here to refuel. It's these native plants and the connectivity of the plants. It's AMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZING. It makes logical and scientific sense ecologically, but knowing that we helped with the restoration and said please come back and that they responded in such a huge way, still makes me giggle in awe and love and pure devotion to this planet. 

Part of this stopping here by migrants, I am certain, is because resident birds and insects are abundant and loud right now, because they also find plentiful food here. The American Goldfinches are a daily chorus of 30 or 40 birds. The juveniles are catching up with their parents and it's a wonder to witness them feasting on the abundant cup plant seed crop. We found one of their old or abandoned nests in a goldenrod and I know part of the trust of these migratory birds to stop here on mornings when they don't have to, is the certainty in the voices of their bird relatives, that this place is safe and full of food.

I'm glad they feel that way, because we do too, on land that is more their land than ours. We pass through these places on footpaths made for us humans, by humans, but we see them along the way.

We always work to honor them by saving them and giving them space when theirs is being taken away. In this moment, it's goldenseal and allies. You can see the video we made here. 

We can't move the Mother Trees that bind them together in a mycelial web in this forest, but we hug those trees and wish them well in this world and thank them. 

We also hug the Mother Persimmon we annually gather from and even got the word to do so from a fellow Persimmon World follower who said, "That is a Grandmother!" Absolutely.

Progeny:

I told Steve I want to follow the birds and butterflies and warm weather and in the future we will, but not quite yet. This year we had/have other plans. Like discovering the magnificent Carrion Flower at our niece's wedding celebration... 

and spending time with family...

and friends... 
 

and 3 kitty cats that are happy to be lounging in a stick built house. 

We are also getting back to our roots. Pure nature. Less home projects. How could we do anything else when there are black ratsnakes to ogle?

And late summer songsters?

And hoverflies to receive love from? Ok, maybe they did want my salt, but maybe also they were saying hi? They aren't saying they weren't so I'm saying they were.

Morrow County is blowing up with development faster than we ever dreamed and if everyone would share space, we would be doing a dance of joy, but they aren't, so instead, we agree with the sentiment of this mammal:

And to counter the devastation somewhere safe and somewhere we can afford, we bought another property. This one in Highland County in southern Ohio. This 10.2 acres will be loved, tended and restored by us and then donated to the Arc of Appalachia eventually. We hope to find a place for our 3.5 acres in Morrow County....so all these lives are safe and protected. We can't wait to hike further onto this land this winter - the winter that we are staying put to tend land in Morrow County, land in Highland County and ourselves. The cabin is already moved to a new home and the land is breathing a sigh of relief. 

Sadness enveloped this land for a while, but now new hope is given. Death and decay always lead to rebirth. Thank you, Tim G., for your much needed clarity and generosity of friendship. 

And with that friends, we bid adieu. We wish you a Happy Autumnal Equinox and a season full of richness of heart and spirit. Thank you for protecting this Earth with us. It heartens us to know we are all united together, in community with one another, working for abundant, respected and diverse life. 

Soundtrack:

Transcends by Jackie Venson