res·to·ra·tion | /ˌrestəˈrāSH(ə)n/ noun

the action of returning something to a former owner, place, or condition

rec·i·proc·i·ty | /ˌresəˈpräsədē/

noun

the practice of exchanging things with others for mutual benefit.

I’ve found myself at the tail end of a cycle. Emotionally, physically + spiritually, i’ve felt stuck in old mindsets, still nursing old wounds, but deeply craving a shift in perspective. The old mindset of trying really hard to make things work, to finesse metaphorical square pegs into round holes and trying please everyone over myself and the wishes that dwelled within my heart.

I’ve been moving towards listening more deeply to my own needs, wants, and vocalizing those, instead of working so hard to keep situations harmonious when they aren’t. I’ve learned I can assert my needs and stand up for myself, I can advocate for myself, and in this action, whoever I am in relationship with doesn’t need to read my mind, hold my expectations, we can communicate and we can find a middle ground. In releasing to flow of life, I can gain more than i’d ever expect.

This weekend, on the cusp of the full moon in pisces, the last sign of the zodiac, a culmination point of watery release, we spent time unplugged and in deep communication at our land. Last summer, we spent a good amount of time camping at our land, but this summer AJ was injured, we had unseasonably hot weather, flooding that washed out our driveway, our summer road trip was cancelled due to covid, I succumbed to the idea that things were just not going to work out the way we planned them, and that was that.

It left me feeling defeated in some ways. Summer had passed us by with my attention on writing my book, without finding a true pause, an opportunity to slow down, and sink into ourselves. As we enter the harvest time, I begin to squirrel away for winter, preserving and prepping, saving seeds, and putting the garden to rest. But I wanted to honor the passing of this season to the next, this liminal space, in grief + in joy. On this last weekend of summer, I lobbied aj for a last ditch effort. We packed up our van, put up our tent on the spot our home is to be built, and put in the work to relish these last days of the season, sending off to summer.

AJ + I both thought, “is two days even worth it”, but it renewed my heart, mind, body + soul in so many unspeakable ways. Spending mornings waking to sunrises on the ridge, standing in communion with the old grandmother oak, and falling asleep to the sound of hooting owls and howling coyotes on the nearby ridge, was the taste of wild I needed. Away from my to-do lists, from piles of laundry, life more simplified, if only for a moment, renewed my vision + hopes for our land and for myself. Late night giggles by lantern and collecting acorns in silence, I could release what had not come to pass helped my to embrace the abundance + opportunity that was right before me. the beauty of this moment was clarifying for me, an opportunity to align with my heart space, for what I want, and what I envision for our land, our home, my self, in restoration + reciprocity.

caring for the land as an act of service

The first time we walked our land in March of 2020 we became deeply connected to its contours even in winters end. I am coming to understand our first walk, we entered into a commitment with this place, a pledge to steward, to learn its ecosystems, to tend to it in the best of our ability, and that relationship is something we will grow into over time. We are six months out from beginning our home build. In the fifth iteration of our floor plans, coming closer to our final version. This fall + winter will see me in deep anticipation. I hope to share more updates on our plans this fall. One thing I look forward to is that once we call this land home, we will come to know it more intimately. Until then, we try to spend as much time as possible there to nurture and foster a connection. The land itself was used my the adjacent farm as pasture for cattle. The previous owner, owned the land for thirty plus years and in the last three or four years, switched the tillable acreage to organic corn. In the last year and half we’ve seen this acreage return to native prairie, season by season, with grasses, red clovers, oxeye daisies, mullein, queen anne’s lace and goldenrod taking the stage, eclipsing the stalks of corn we walked over on that march day. For now, our plan is to let these native plants have their way, to do a soil test and let the soil rest, and to plant cover crops in the areas we plan to farm in the near future.

climate change + finding resilience

This summer, this region of Wisconsin, saw major flooding events connected to climate change as a many places have seen extreme weather increasing. This has us asking the question “how to we build resiliency for the land to withstand climate events? What are ways we can mitigate and adapt in regenerative ways?” The Driftless saw massive amounts of rainfall in short amounts of time, water running over pastures, changing rivers and washing out roads. Our driveway was washed out three times this summer. It was painful to see this destruction, it gave me a heightened sense of what is to come with climate change, but I saw this as silver lining to understand what we are really in for to learn where water flows on our property in big rains. Do we just rebuild in the same ways and traditional ways to just see it washed out again, or do we try to think of new ways?

AJ is taking the time to learn about ways to divert water, building swales and berms to collect water and use it to our advantage in agriculture. We would like to restore a pond that was once a watering hole for cattle and the various wildlife living on our land. There was also once a natural spring running along the road most likely filled in from rocks and debris. We would love to open that spring and find if there are any others to bring water and nourishment to the land. What are ways we can listen more deeply to the present moment, to not reject painful experiences and instead use them as a means of gathering information on how to respond versus react and to see how we can create more resilient structures over time.

land restoration

I’m in the process of reaching out to the local township clerk and local newspaper to find more information on the history of our land. This land is occupied Meswaki and Sauk, Potawatomi, and Oceti Sakowin ancestral homeland. There is no evidence of any structures, homes, or settlements here. All we know is that the farmer adjacent to us owned the land for 30 years, and we don’t know much further than that. In that time, he cut down many of the old growth trees, the grandmother and grandfather trees in the forests, most likely for money. We can see what these trees many have been as they are still standing on the property right across the property line. Huge old maples and oaks. I often wonder what indigenous management practices would have been and how to align our actions here to be one of service rather than exploitation. There are still a couple great trees standing, and it is part of our learning process to figure out how to best support those trees, support the forests, and plant more trees in the near future. We’ve come to understand the farmer viewed this land as his to take from in many ways, not acting in reciprocity. Our goal, our dream and our hope is to nurture the land, to give back, and to help restore it.

community building

Our weekend spent here in deep connection with each other, unplugged from our phones, taking walks around the property and sleeping under the stars, renewed my hope. I’m learning the hard work, the intention, and the time it takes to restore and build and learn new ways. But I do not see this land as just our own. As we watched the birds find shelter in the trees, or the deer walking the paths we made at dusk, this land is home to many other life forms. And I want to continue to foster connection on this land. We came home + left our tent still standing, AJ will take a night away there for his birthday this week, we also have friends coming to camp at our land with us in a few weeks time, another friend coming from the city to camp with his son, and I envision gathering some friends for a fall meal here.

This weekend, I began expanding my vision beyond our home build + dreaming up ways in which we can share this healing place with others. In the future, I would like to invite others to stay in our tent, hosting farm dinners, and retreats as we learn and explore. I would love to make this land a multigenerational home in the future, having my parents and brother build a home. Sharing this land as an invitation for other to connect in reciprocal ways, to create a place where people can unplug, tune into to nature, find the silence to listen to themselves, and build a sense of community with others.

In this harvest season, I found abundance, joy, and stillness, right where I stand.