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By Claire HarmonWhen I arrived in my hometown in rural Western Kentucky just as the state was going into a full shutdown, I asked my dad if we could grow a vegetable garden. I’d been keeping some small houseplants in my dorm back in Louisville, and I loved the satisfaction that came from taking care of something and watching it grow. It also seemed like a good learning experience and something to do while I’m unable to leave the house. My parents were both taken aback by the request but assured me that if I was willing to put in the work, I could learn to grow just about anything I wanted.
As a child, I never liked getting my hands or clothes dirty. I wanted everything to be clean and organized, so I can see why the idea of me weeding and raking and watering a garden would surprise my parents. As I’ve grown, though, I’ve started to feel that pull to be more connected with nature. I want to put my hands in the dirt; I want to look at the bugs and the worms; I want to feel the grass under my feet and the raindrops on my fingertips. I want to be part of it.
I believe I owe some credit for this shift in my life to Wendell Berry, an author, farmer, and Kentucky native who we’ve been reading with the McConnell Center throughout the year. We’ve analyzed Berry’s writings about community, family, religion, love, and nature. While I enjoyed most of his writing and was always eager to discuss with my fellow scholars, I was particularly struck by his poetry. Berry understands the intimate connection humans can have with our environment and the importance of nurturing that connection. He feels that same pull to be with the “wild things” -- and writes about it more eloquently than I could ever dream of doing.
When I was living in the city for school, I felt further away from the natural beauty of my hometown than ever before. The hard concrete, thick air, and constant noise were contrasted against the sprawling fields, towering trees, and bright pinprick stars I’d grown up with. It’s easy to take those things for granted when they’re always there, and moving back home unexpectedly has given me the chance to truly appreciate what I’ve been given.
In this time of social distancing, quarantine, and mass panic, it’s easy to feel disconnected from the people around you. You can take this time we’ve been given, though, to cherish your surroundings and ground yourself.
I’ve attached a Wendell Berry poem, “The Peace of Wild Things,” that I think demonstrates this point perfectly. When it feels like the world is ending and society is coming apart at the seams, it can help to turn to the things that were here long before us and will surely outlive whatever disaster we create.
The Peace of Wild Things
By Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.