Good Morning, Wild Neighbors!
by Mallory Lance Fithian
The cool mountain air is thick with mist this morning as we step outside to greet the day. Before we make it out the door, three-year old Roky slips on her rain boots and her little brother Slade decides to go barefoot. Suzi, our wolf-like rescue dog trots out in front of us to sniff around for critters in the ferns ahead of us. The sun hangs behind cloud cover and in this moment, everything is viridescent against the diffuse light. Colors feel more saturated and the life around is palpable.
“Hello, Ferns! Good morning, Beech trees. Hi there Buttercup! Hello Redbud!”
The walk to the mailbox at the end of our drive is about 100 yards but we take our time and greet our plant and animal neighbors along the way.
“Mommy, look at this great big huge leopard slug!”
Roky stops to watch him slide languorously across the driveway and leave a shiny path behind him. She stops to munch on some Wood Sorrel and we wait in anticipation as the Raspberry and Wild Blackberry brambles begin to bear fruit. This past weekend, Roky was beside herself with excitement as she found her first wild strawberries of the season.
Years ago, when I’d look out into a field or into a forest I would see a blanket of green, abuzz with life. And now I see familiars among the greens. I see Ostrich Ferns, Sensitive Ferns, little Beech trees, and so many Brambles. I’ve gotten to know the differences between the pollinators as they buzz about doing their work, and I’ve watched closely as they maneuver, slipping into the flowers to collect their nectar. I see Yarrow, Mullein, and I delight in seeing our old friends, Moon Daisies, as they remind me of our wedding on this land four years ago. They only come up for a brief season each year and their presence reminds me of our upcoming anniversary.
Rooting to this land around us, being present and noticing the new plants and animals who arrive as we spend each passing year here has been the greatest gift. As we step out onto the dew-covered grass, the sun comes out and the dewdrops shimmer like diamonds as they cover the greenery under our feet. Among the grasses are Red Clover, White Clover, Dandelion, Chickweed, Cleavers. When I look closely at the carpet of green beneath me, I see lush biodiversity.
Taking the time to learn the names of our plant neighbors is a great gift I gained from reading Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, Braiding Sweetgrass. In the chapter, Learning the Grammar of Animacy she writes:
“Our toddlers speak of plants and animals as if they were people, extending to them self and intention and compassion-- until we tell them not to. We quickly retrain them and make them forget. When we tell them that the tree is not a who but an it, we make that maple an object; we put a barrier between us, absolving ourselves of moral responsibility and opening the door to exploitation. Saying it makes living land into ‘natural resources.’ If a maple is an it, we can take up the chain saw. If a maple is a her, we think twice.”
Her words encouraged me to get to know those I share my home with. I feel blessed to be able to keep the spark alive in my children as I see the wonder and reverence in their eyes when they see this beautiful web of life we’re lucky enough to be a part of. I hope the wild voices among us continue to lead them as they grow into the future stewards of the Earth.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: is an art director and food stylist living in the Catskill Mountains. She is the founder of the Western Catskills Creative Alliance, the Roscoe Family Nature Club, and Wolvestudios, and she is a volunteer firefighter in her local mountain town. You can find her work at www.mallory-lance.com and at Full Moon Recipes