I highly recommend Louis Bromfield’s “Pleasant Valley” and “Malabar Farm” for another view of this land stewardship care vs. harm dilemma. Thanks for your thoughtful writing on this critically important topic, Hadden!
This is an interesting post for me to read. Challenging, affirming and convicting at the same time.
I live in Northwest Arkansas, a beautiful area of the United States resting on the edges of the Ozark National Forest. The natural beauty of this place is evident to pretty much everyone who lives here, and the vastness of the landscape to be explored and enjoyed is such a gift. Yet, in my eyes, there is a challenge.
There is a great deal of industry in this place, industry which some equate with "progress," and others, such as myself, cannot help comparing to Babel. The amount of wealth concentrated in this corner of the state is rather astounding, and with it comes great opportunity -- yet as you highlight, that can go the way of blessing and wise stewardship, or great detriment. The speed of "progress" is relentless, and though many see what's happening as a good, because the land is being shaped to the desires of the people, what I see is a great machine uprooting and destroying the land at an unnatural pace, and building in its place new, immaculate, curated landscapes. Parks meant to mimic the natural world, yet planted in neat rows months after the hills beneath were bulldozed and rolled with new sod. Farm and field are rapidly replaced with shiny new apartment buildings and "business parks." It is the picture of convenience, cleanliness, and control. And it strikes me as a jarring, strange thing.
Thousands of people are moving to this area, lured by the promise of opportunity and wealth and beauty. In some ways I was one of those people when I moved here seven years ago. Yet it's only in the last few years that the gloss of this manufactured place has worn off, and I've begun seeing what lies underneath. It makes me sad, and makes me wonder what it will be like in another seven years. What of this place will there be then that has not been conquered for the sake of convenience? What of the natural beauty will remain?
Your comments are always so deep and reflective Joel, they are a delight to read.
I can feel something of the pain you are experiencing concerning what your place is going through - though the feeling of pain is a good sign, it means your place has touched something deep within you and is stirring you to notice its change and its plight. Though change can be for the good, when it is done at an unnatural pace we as humanity tend to make mistakes and cause change that does not cohere with nature's rhythm. These are the changes we one day come to regret - when we survey just what it is we have lost and will not get back.
This resonates deeply: "It is the picture of convenience, cleanliness, and control. And it strikes me as a jarring, strange thing" - a poignant testimony of the sombre tragedy that has affected so many places in the modern world.
I appreciate the point you make -- this place has certainly touched me. And I'm grateful for that indeed! To actually care to get out into the mountains and look on the wonder of creation and enjoy its life, is not a desire that all come to know. At the very least, I suppose it gives me a job to do; the simple job of telling people about the beauty there is to be found here, and helping them to enjoy it too, and not merely on our terms, but on its own.
This is spot on, and I’m excited to read more of what Stegner says in this context. I’m currently in the middle of Bill Vitek and Wes Jackson’s essay collection The Virtues of Ignorance, and many of the authors in it are driving at the same thing that you are. One thing I’ve learned in my own work on the land is to try to shorten the feedback loops. Do the small things and observe closely before you do the big things.
Thanks Andrew, that essay collection sounds excellent (I love the title).
I would like to hear some more about this concept of shortening the feedback loops if you have the time. Principles like this interest me immensely. One principle I keep going on about in my writing is the doctrine of return: https://overthefield.substack.com/p/investing-in-the-precious-land
Sure, it’s really my own reading of the permaculture principle “small and slow solutions.” Making small changes and then spending time carefully observing how the land responds. Sepp Holzer, who’s a big pond guy himself and extensively uses machinery to effect large landscape changes, emphasizes this approach: using hand tools to make a change and seeing how things grow and how the water moves across the landscape in response before enacting the change on a larger scale. This way a failure can be a learning experience rather than a disaster.
Thanks Andrew, that makes sense - and is a very wise approach to take. Paul Kingsnorth has an essay which basically is an extended treatment of this principle called "Learning What to Make of It" in the book Confessions of a Recovering Environmentalist. If you can get your hands on a copy it is well worth a read.
I highly recommend Louis Bromfield’s “Pleasant Valley” and “Malabar Farm” for another view of this land stewardship care vs. harm dilemma. Thanks for your thoughtful writing on this critically important topic, Hadden!
I love reading other peoples thoughts and going, “Wow, I’m thinking about the same things!”
Indeed! I think I am going to have the same experience when reading your own work Samuel.
This is an interesting post for me to read. Challenging, affirming and convicting at the same time.
I live in Northwest Arkansas, a beautiful area of the United States resting on the edges of the Ozark National Forest. The natural beauty of this place is evident to pretty much everyone who lives here, and the vastness of the landscape to be explored and enjoyed is such a gift. Yet, in my eyes, there is a challenge.
There is a great deal of industry in this place, industry which some equate with "progress," and others, such as myself, cannot help comparing to Babel. The amount of wealth concentrated in this corner of the state is rather astounding, and with it comes great opportunity -- yet as you highlight, that can go the way of blessing and wise stewardship, or great detriment. The speed of "progress" is relentless, and though many see what's happening as a good, because the land is being shaped to the desires of the people, what I see is a great machine uprooting and destroying the land at an unnatural pace, and building in its place new, immaculate, curated landscapes. Parks meant to mimic the natural world, yet planted in neat rows months after the hills beneath were bulldozed and rolled with new sod. Farm and field are rapidly replaced with shiny new apartment buildings and "business parks." It is the picture of convenience, cleanliness, and control. And it strikes me as a jarring, strange thing.
Thousands of people are moving to this area, lured by the promise of opportunity and wealth and beauty. In some ways I was one of those people when I moved here seven years ago. Yet it's only in the last few years that the gloss of this manufactured place has worn off, and I've begun seeing what lies underneath. It makes me sad, and makes me wonder what it will be like in another seven years. What of this place will there be then that has not been conquered for the sake of convenience? What of the natural beauty will remain?
Your comments are always so deep and reflective Joel, they are a delight to read.
I can feel something of the pain you are experiencing concerning what your place is going through - though the feeling of pain is a good sign, it means your place has touched something deep within you and is stirring you to notice its change and its plight. Though change can be for the good, when it is done at an unnatural pace we as humanity tend to make mistakes and cause change that does not cohere with nature's rhythm. These are the changes we one day come to regret - when we survey just what it is we have lost and will not get back.
This resonates deeply: "It is the picture of convenience, cleanliness, and control. And it strikes me as a jarring, strange thing" - a poignant testimony of the sombre tragedy that has affected so many places in the modern world.
Thank you Joel
I appreciate the point you make -- this place has certainly touched me. And I'm grateful for that indeed! To actually care to get out into the mountains and look on the wonder of creation and enjoy its life, is not a desire that all come to know. At the very least, I suppose it gives me a job to do; the simple job of telling people about the beauty there is to be found here, and helping them to enjoy it too, and not merely on our terms, but on its own.
This is spot on, and I’m excited to read more of what Stegner says in this context. I’m currently in the middle of Bill Vitek and Wes Jackson’s essay collection The Virtues of Ignorance, and many of the authors in it are driving at the same thing that you are. One thing I’ve learned in my own work on the land is to try to shorten the feedback loops. Do the small things and observe closely before you do the big things.
Thanks Andrew, that essay collection sounds excellent (I love the title).
I would like to hear some more about this concept of shortening the feedback loops if you have the time. Principles like this interest me immensely. One principle I keep going on about in my writing is the doctrine of return: https://overthefield.substack.com/p/investing-in-the-precious-land
Sure, it’s really my own reading of the permaculture principle “small and slow solutions.” Making small changes and then spending time carefully observing how the land responds. Sepp Holzer, who’s a big pond guy himself and extensively uses machinery to effect large landscape changes, emphasizes this approach: using hand tools to make a change and seeing how things grow and how the water moves across the landscape in response before enacting the change on a larger scale. This way a failure can be a learning experience rather than a disaster.
Thanks Andrew, that makes sense - and is a very wise approach to take. Paul Kingsnorth has an essay which basically is an extended treatment of this principle called "Learning What to Make of It" in the book Confessions of a Recovering Environmentalist. If you can get your hands on a copy it is well worth a read.
I needed to read this, Thank You.