It’s been a long, slow spring here in the upper Midwest. Wind, rain and cold have kept many of us indoors longer than we’d like. Every day last month, I looked out from my bedroom window onto the same wintry mix of brown and silver tree limbs reaching to the sky, begging for the return of sun and warmth. Finally, one magical day last week, the sign I wait for every year arrived: my neighbor’s magnolia bloomed.
It’s not just any tree, this magnolia – it’s a magnificent elder one that fills the front yard and towers almost above the roof. When it finally erupts in the spring, the whole neighborhood celebrates. Any day now, there'll be an invitation to the annual magnolia party on the neighborhood listserv. Folks will gather under those fat, waxy pink blossoms for the first outdoor party of the year, the first chance to reconnect after a long winter, to share news of friends and kids, places visited and trips planned. This tree matters to the neighborhood, and I like to think that we matter to it, too – that it celebrates the return of children’s voices, the sound of bikes and balls and chalk on sidewalks, long days and balmy nights.
It’s a momentary thought, but it represents a shift I’ve been trying to practice more lately – a movement away from knee-jerk human-centeredness and toward a relationship with the natural world that assumes mutuality and a shared gaze. In other words, I don’t just look at the world – it looks back at me. Thinking like this pushes me to ask, what might a tree, or a robin, or a honeybee notice or enjoy or even want from me? Entertain that question a bit longer and a lot of things open up. It can be a path to more wonder, awe, joy and love - and a powerful solace in a time of extinction and climate crisis.
Many people have expressed this more beautifully and profoundly than I can, and with spring greening the continent, it’s a good time to hear some of them. This May weekend, let Heather Swan and Andreas Weber take you into the heart of spring, as we re-air “Love in the Time of Extinction.” I’ll be listening and learning with you.
– Anne