Hi everyone! It’s Vera here, sipping my morning coffee (milk no sugar. Sue likes it black…ick! lol) Today I’m going to share a dog story.
Our German Shorthaired Pointer, Ruby, grew up going to “mecca”, well, we called it her “mecca”; a quarter section of land on the edge of the Porcupine Provincial Forest where she could run free as the wind, chase butterflies and occasionally point a partridge in the thick bush. Watching her floppy ears sail through the tall, swaying grass brought Randy and I as much joy as it did her. She loved that place.
Spending time on the land is key to our collaboration. Sue and I agreed to focus on three spots, a manageable number to get to know. Sue asked, “Is there a place you care about? Maybe the land you and Randy go hunting on?”
YES! YES! YES!
I immediately imagined showing Sue around this land; the place we camped, the sloughs, the aspen and red willows, the piles of brush left from logging years ago and one old farm building slowly finding its way back to the earth. Picture 160 acres, home for not one, but four sloughs, bordering farmland on three sides with a Saskatchewan Wildlife Quarter to the north. I couldn’t think of a more perfect place to get to know better. I’m sure Ruby would agree.
In the time I’ve known Sue, I had heard her talk about having “a relationship” with the land. She even offers playshops called “Befriending Wildflowers.” But to be honest, I never thought about having a “relationship” with land. I mean you have a “relationship” with other people, animals too, but land? I didn’t get it. Friendship...relationship…I struggled using this language.
Sue often greets wild flowers, birds flying overhead, or even the occasional rock as a way of showing gratitude to the natural world. A bit worried, I asked, “Sue, will I need to talk to the land because I don’t think I could do that?” In her kind way, (anyone who knows Sue knows what I mean) she reassured me it would be all good and no, I didn’t need to talk to the land in the same way she did.
A while back I started reading, but never finished, “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer. I’m not sure why I stopped; perhaps I was overwhelmed by all the things I didn’t know or felt bad I didn’t thank the land, but after spending some time on the land with Sue, I went back to it with fresh eyes.
In the book Kimmerer laments to Cheyenne elder Bill Tall Bull that she didn’t have her native language with which to speak to the plants and places she loves.
“They love to hear the old language,” he said, “it’s true.” “But,” he said, with fingers on his lips, “You don’t have to speak it here.” “If you speak it here,” he said, patting his chest, “They will hear you.”
Hmmmm…to speak with your heart! I loved this. I thought about Ruby and how I believe her heart filled with joy while on the land.
When our beautiful Ruby died, we laid her frail body to rest on her special piece of land, the place she loved to play. Sue and I have now visited this place a number of times. Through our conversations and readings, I’m gradually learning what it means to have a “relationship” with the land.
Last summer, we climbed a tree stand and made this short video. It is a reminder of a guiding principle of our collaboration: to have fun, believing this too is a way to be present and show gratitude to the land, something I’m sure Ruby knew long before I did.
Click HERE for video...are you excited?
So my friends, I wonder, how would you describe your connection to the land? A relationship? A friendship? Or like me, is it something you hadn’t thought about before… or if you have a good dog story to share, we would love to hear it too. We invite you to join our conversation by leaving a comment, or question, below.
xov
Thankyou for this reflective piece and fun video. I have felt connected with the land for as long as I can remember. As I was the only kid in my grade for 5 years, I didn't have any peers to call my friends, so the land and the creatures of the land became my best buddies. Over the years I have grown to see our connection with each other as a mutual friendship. For example, when I'm hiking and feel the grasses brush against my legs, the grasses also feel my skin. And as I talk to the trees, it is not uncommon for me to also hear them talking to me.
Now for a bit of a dog story: About 5 years ago we welcomed a re-homed adult dog, Willow, into our lives. She was used to city life and always being on a leash when walked. The first day she came to live with us, I took her for a walk in the field, unleashed. I recall her just standing there...not knowing that she could run and explore the land freely. She soon learned to enjoy her freedom, but never gets too far away without turning and checking to see where we are. She is in relationship with both the land and us, just as we are with her and the land, as we watch out for each other.
I actually talk to the land. Most often, comments are squeezed out of me as a result of encountering something gorgeous or frustrating: "Oh you're gorgeous!" to the fringed gentian I discovered at the side of a field. Or "Ugh, you !@#$%^" when I find yet another stand of the invasive, prickly buckthorn. In probably should work on being a bit more intentional in my communication. I see these as part of my community here.