Musing

Do We Love Nature?

An animal died yesterday. A runty lamb born last summer but never quite keeping up. And two weeks ago a ewe ended up cast in the tire tracks made from the tractor. We barely have enough snow to make a snowdrift and she tips onto her back in the depression of a tire track and cannot get herself back on her feet, therefore suffocates with the weight of her rumen pushing air from her lungs. Talk about bloody unfair, talk about a moment of hating sheep, of hating Mother N.

In this lifestyle I get so many chances to love nature, and to despise her. And I do both wholeheartedly. What is emerging now is an awareness, a small acceptance of nature as whole. That the good gains AND the ugly losses each build us up to be part of this whole – if we choose to be part of it.

We tend to love nature in seasons, especially our favourite season.
We love nature when she’s easy on us.
We’re happy when there is calm lakes, rosy pink sunrises and brilliant orange sunsets.
We’re pleased when mother nature works with us and gives us a good year however we determine that to be.
We love nature when there is flow in our lives; we need nature to create that flow.
We need nature as a soul recharging station.
We’re fixated on a display of nature as a calm meditative state with pink sunrises as the backdrop.
In agriculture we love to tell a story of loving nature meanwhile treating it as a commodity that must meet our bottom line.

But nature is a seer and a lover of the whole. There is a totality to this, a sum of parts that is absolutely necessary for nature to exist. Parts that build and parts that tear down, parts that are bliss and parts that burn. No matter, every part contributes to the whole.

We don’t want to meditate on the ugly side of nature though, we’ll take just the good bits, thanks. We have forgotten that we are nature and therefore part of this whole, ready for it or not. We are shocked each time we discover there is guts and suffering on the other side of the sunset glory. We are shocked that we got no warning of what came about.

So do we really love nature and the natural of ourselves, or just the sunset story? My struggle and frustration over losses has not lessened, there is still deep hurt/anger/sadness with each experience. But growing alongside the emotions is a small nugget of wondering about the whole of it. If we are seeking to exist in this land and livestock life with nature alongside, and not just as commodity, then there is something deeper, something entirely natural, that we must reach for.


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All That is Needed For Now

We have had a stretch of unusually mild weather. The flock continues to graze with only sporadic hay feed being offered. This helps the ewes maintain good fitness as opposed to when the weather is terribly cold and animals don’t travel about. The guardian dogs seem to be busy enough and we’ve spotted a couple coyotes in the area. We hauled bales home from a far pasture yesterday, our proceedings being watched by three moose. The birds around our yard are often singing in full force.

Thus far, it’s been a relatively simple winter for all species. The lack of snow is a concern but one that won’t be realized until Spring arrives. For now the enjoyment of mild weather is too appealing and supersedes the worry of what we cannot control. For now there is enjoyment of these small pleasures made easy to enjoy and that is enough. This is all that is needed to draw me into a connection with the landscape all around me and stir deeper thoughts and lighter breathing.

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No Going Back

As I dive deeper into doing artwork, the artwork is diving deeper into me, nudging and tugging at ideas and perspectives I lost track of or never knew were there.

Since coming to this prairie land I have sought out and felt the link between land and animal and human. Now as this journey with creating artwork enters the scene it is acting like something beyond connection. The art and immersion into creating it, is like a live yarn that is weaving in and out of the other aspects, leaving its mark on each and touching every aspect at once. There are fresh, wholehearted connections made, – with this landscape, with fellow artists, with my soul and, just maybe, with humanity.

It sounds idyllic and it is. It’s also real in a rough around the edges way, and a bit confusing in the way all new paths are. I’m in a constant tug-o-war lately – feeling compelled to open wider and go with the flow yet shy of it and what it is asking of me. Feeling free to pursue the many avenues and yet pulled to focus and narrow down the direction. Feeling elated for the possibilities and inadequate about handling them.

Continuing my common routine of ranch life shepherding a flock of sheep without the reach for more feels like the easy road. Yet creating art and writing words is a constant pull now, just like the prairie land. It’s there when I’m out in this landscape absorbing one of those big-small moments, reaching for the catch words to etch it in place at least long enough to get back to my journal.

The final piece is solidifying. There is no going back. 

Land, animal, nature, artist, human, humanity – every piece is within me and I am within every piece. There can no longer be a seperation of these pieces nor a life of acting as though they are.  

As we head into an celebratory time of gift giving I hope every person can find a little bit of this gift within themselves and when they do, pass it along to the next. The world needs that. 

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