Women and Nature

& rain, rain, rain

soggy backyard

“We are women. We rise from the wave. We are gazelle and doe, elephant and whale, lilies and roses and peach, we are air, we are flame, we are oyster and pearl, we are girls. We are woman and nature." — Susan Griffin

It’s been raining daily for weeks now. Afternoon and evening thunderstorms crash and bellow and sometimes make me jump like a scalded dog. (Do you know in Britain they say “like a scalded cat.”) Afternoon thunderstorms in summer are common in New Orleans and actually welcomed as they cool things off a bit. But when days and days of rain pass it can get tiresome. I find myself yearning for the sun and, when it peeks out, I feel my mood lift. My tropical plants love all the rain and humidity and are growing like gangbusters but my poor tomatoes look droopy and weary. Too much rain. I’m giving up on tomatoes in the future. The last four summers have been a bust and I know it’s time to accept that I don’t have the tomato touch.

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I wrote this bit of fluff one day in 2013 when it had been raining for days and the water was over the sidewalk, creeping into the yard, and someone’s dog was barking and barking.

On 13 Days of Rain

Hush now, dog! There’s nuthin’ on the front porch but an empty chair rockin’ in the rain spatter drippin’ off the roof. This ole house is creakin’ and growlin’ but it’s holdin’ tight as a tick. Swoll up clouds are kickin’ great balls of fire and the wind’s battin’ ‘em ‘round our heads. Thunder’s rappin’ an a-rollin’ a stanky leg ‘cross the sky. Yeah, it’s loud enough to wake the dead but they best stay sleepin’ lest they float away too.

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I’ve seen a lot of natures beauty and fury in my life so far. Been through several hurricanes, missed an EF4 tornado by a couple of hours that hit my Mississippi hometown (family huddled in their storm shelter and made it ok), waded and driven through flood waters, had a lightning strike a few feet behind my house that about gave me a heart attack. The fury is scary but there are more days of beauty than fury and that is the healing part.

I think one either does or does not live with nature. I think one either is or is not a naturalist. I think a “not” can become an “is” but an is will never become a not. To be a naturalist in the truest sense, is to love, observe, live with, accept, and nurture nature.

I’m on a quest to find Substacks that are immersed in nature. Ones that are personal, not instructional or written by professionals. I want to read essays and musings about your backyard or your vegetable garden, or your walk in the woods. I like meditative with a dash of gardening tips now and then. Beautiful photography and art are a plus. Not to be exclusionary, but I prefer to read women. I want to read how women connect with, learn from, and luxuriate in nature.

I also want a Substack category of “Nature and Gardening” that is separate from the current “Climate and Environment.” A healing and celebratory category.

Do you have or read a Substack that fits my quest?

Here are a few Substacks that do:

Flow: Letters from the Moss - A British woman who posts photographs of the countryside around her place during her walks, with lush and insightful prose.

I forget how precious these moments are, how drop-dead gorgeous the ordinary can be. I forget that as the sun rises the water does too and such moments are short-lived, to be seized, devoured greedily so that they nourish the soul.

And when I do remember, it gives me amnesia and for a while I forget our crazy troubled world. For now at least I am simply with nature.

Mystic Southern Naturalist - A Southern woman and her garden. Several posts about her world post-Hurricane Hellene are must-reads.

Listening to the trucks on the highway and being enveloped by the silence in between, my mind begins to wander and wonder. Going over the events of the last couple months since hurricane Hellene. The feelings and emotions she uncovered. My perfectly constructed mask I wear to get through each day…blown away. The filter I use to say all the “right” things…blown away. Trust and security in people…blown away. I’m slowly building myself back, but the things I’ve seen and emotions I’ve felt have changed me.

Cunning and Kind - Brandy doesn’t post nearly enough for me but she’s a busy woman so I forgive her while I (im)patiently wait for a new one. In the meantime I enjoy her more frequent Instagram posts. Brandy is an herbalist who writes about the healing properties of herbs, Appalachian folklore, tarot, and astrology. Every post is fascinating.

We hillbillies want relief, the scholars tell us. Relief from poverty. Relief from pain. Relief from the “diseases of despair.” But I have found, more than anything, most of us in the hills and hollers of Appalachia want connection and celebration. We want to be culture bearers, curse breakers, and generational trauma healers. So we turn to the forgotten wisdom of our ancestors; we turn to food of our ancestors; we turn to plant medicines of our ancestors.

Trackless Wild with Janisse Ray - Janisse writes about nature, her place in rural Georgia, and goings-on in her community. She also writes about the craft of writing.

Last week, traveling through the sandhills on the way to town, I came upon a gopher tortoise traveling down the center line. I stopped and managed to whisk her off the road before the next vehicle arrived. (I don’t know how to age them, but it was about 7 inches across the shell.) In the sandhills, Georgia wild basil has been blooming, and sandhill milkweed is going to seed.

Capturing Life in Paint - A landscape painter living on the Georgia coast, this stack is filled with her gorgeous artwork and stories. I recently discovered Dottie’s stack so I’m still perusing it but what a gem it is!

I feel this place. It is alive to me in a way that no place has been since I left. Whether it’s the breeze blowing through the tangle of palms, moss filled oaks and wild vines, the salt water moving through the marsh, the warm heavy fog drifting across the water or that ever changing almost indescribable light that illuminates it all… it stirs my soul.

And I simply can’t leave out Church Goin’ Mule which I’ve mentioned before. Her monthly posts are an absolute joy to read and I don’t say that because she’s a sister Mississippian. 😉

The soft Bluegreen morning of a thunderstorm, quiet, I wake up in the middle of dozing back to sleep after I had let the dogs out, Sandii has decided she is scared of thunderstorms and so I jump up and call to her, she appears out of her hidey hole in the cane and comes to me. Her head is laced with yellow leaves and spiderwebs,

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I’m delighted to share that I stumbled on a website, Sounds Southern, that posts recordings of nature. I’m hooked! These recordings are perfect for destressing, meditating, or if you just feel nostalgic for the sounds of the countryside. Check out Katydid Chorus Under the Full Buck Moon.

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This Saturday morning it’s partly cloudy. The sun pops out now and again like a lonely neighbor wanting companionship. I think I’ll check on those tomato plants - I still hope.