Fifty-eight thousand dog tags, one for each U.S. soldier who died in the Vietnam War. I did not know any of them. All were strangers to me. Yet standing below this shimmering array listening to them tinkle in the gentle movement of air from the Chicago Public Library’s giant air-handling system, I thought of the human stories cut short–not only those of these soldiers but of ALL–their soldiers, civilians; men, women and children–cut down by the war I remember well. Who is a stranger? In the heat of conflict, in the fears generated by political rhetoric, lots of people can…

Every wilderness is home to some community of creatures living in complex webs of relationship with each other and the environment, whatever its features. What is alien and remote to humankind is familiar and intimate to them. Being keenly aware of that makes us better visitors in their home. We have much to gain from going into the wilderness. If we do it with mindful humility, we will learn a great deal, not only about the wilderness and the creatures who call it home, but about ourselves. Wilderness is not only “out there,” but also “in here.” We all have…

Excerpt from Wild Geese Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things. –Mary Oliver An anhinga is not a wild goose, of course, but its guttural call sounding over the bayou pulls me in every time. I snuck up on this one in my kayak. Both I and another woman I know have had conversations with our deceased…

Spiderwort usually blossoms in the early spring. So imagine my surprise Saturday, 12/10, encountering this sweet beauty on the grounds of Allen Acres, my favorite B&B in southwest Louisiana. The find prompted me to look into why flowers sometimes bloom out of season. Turns out, it is a response to stress, particularly an unexpected spell of hot weather. Instead of getting grumpy when life interrupts plans, choose joy. Flourish instead. How gracious is that?!

Slender, red-gold grass caressing the blackened trunk of a longleaf pine tells the story. This scrap of “prairie under the pines” conserved by my retired botanist friend was recently treated with “prescribed fire,” meaning the fire was set on purpose. And the purpose was accomplished. Had it not been, this native grass that contributes much to the lives of many creatures–skipper butterflies, small mammals, birds–would have long since been choked out by brambles, shrubs and vines. Creation once took care of this problem with lightening strikes that caused forest and prairie fires. Well-intentioned but less wise techno-humans set out to…