Michael Meadeâs Living Myth podcast1 is a much-needed lifeline during dark times. His perspective on the mythic dimensions of current events, conflicts, disruptions, and anxiety helps restore my sanity when I get caught up in the madness.
In his recent episode, Meade reminds us that Solstice means âsun stands still.â He says that âtraditional cultures believed the sun needed conscious help from people in order to avoid being devoured by the expanse of darkness that nips at the edges of life.â
I love this reminder of our capacity to participate in the renewal of life. Itâs too easy to be swept into the story that we humans are 100% bad for the planet. Whenever I read a piece by one of the wonderful nature writers on Substack, Iâm reminded that positive, nurturing, reciprocal relationships are not only possible, theyâre real, ongoing, and thriving.
In North America, the winter solstice falls on the longest night of the year. It also marks the return of light from darkness. Meade reassures me that each of us contains an inner sun in our soul to light the way in dark times. Enjoy this monthâs NatureStackâa bonfire of inner suns to warm the cold nights ahead.
For details on where donations have been going since I began donating 30% of paid subscriptions to environmental non-profits, read this accountability post.
At the end, youâll find an index of contributors to this yearâs past issues. Treat yourself: revisit an old favorite or discover someone new! (Note: This is an extra-long email, so just click on the link below to read it in your browser.)
Starting in the new year, Iâll publish double-issues every other month, instead of monthly. This will free up just a bit more bandwidth for serializing my novel . . . which begins mid-January. (More on this below, in the âStoryâ section.)
Rebecca Wisent curates this lovely directory of nature-focused writers. Itâs organized by region and topic and, if youâre a nature writer yourself, easy to get listed.
Now letâs shine some soul-light in the darkness
đ Wonder
Jenna Woginrich, Hunting with a Hawk
If you fantasized about falconry as I did after reading H is for Hawk, this piece by
is for you. Iâm also irrationally in love with his name, James Caan.âWhen I try to explain falconry to other hunters it feels like trying to convince a skeptic that building Lego play sets by hand is cool when they already own a tool that shoots already-built play sets by the trigger pullâŠâ
Itâs full of detail and marvelous language.
âBut if thereâs something about a hawk on your fist on a cold winter morning that makes your chest swell and eyebrows raise, hereâs what a regular morning hunt is like. Iâll share the whole process, and maybe some of you will take the first steps toward your falconry journey today.â
Renée Eli, PhD, Falling and the Gravity of Desire
I smiled while reading
âs piece because I had just written about gravity, eros, and attraction the day before, as part of my limited series on the St Francis prayer.2 Iâm grateful for these beautiful words that deepened my appreciation for grace and gravity even more.âEd told us a story told by Philip who said while dying, We are falling, all of us, falling. We are all, now in this moment, in the midst of descent, fallen from heights that may now seem only a dimly remembered dream, falling toward a depth we can only imagine, glimpsed beneath the waterâs surface shimmer. And so, says Philip, let us pray that if we are falling from grace, dear God let us also fall with grace, to grace.â
Susie Mawhinney, I want to be where snowflakes fall
To the title, I say, âMe too!â This post is a lovely series of wanders and writing on the raw days before snow flies and makes it all magical.
âAll the leaves have fallen from their branches overnight and when I return home in the evening my tiny patch of woodland is carpeted in ash leaves in banana skin colourings, bare branches shimmer in evening light, I search high up within for the Tawny owl, wait for his call. When it arrives it is from a direction I donât anticipate; I turn but see only the great span of wings disappearing silently as it swoops into woodland below me.â
Antonia Malchik, Fox owns herself
I so admire how
weaves together personal stories with legal history and big questions about ownership and belonging. This post includes a lovely audio introduction and sublime photographs of the winter Montana sunset and moonrise.âIâm not interested in politics because Iâm into politics. Iâm interested, and emotionally invested, because I care about this world we all share, these ecological and social and spiritual commons. . . . What could change if we . . . started from an assumption that all beings own themselves, that every being has agency and choice?â
đ Immersion
đ Kinship
Shortly after the November election,
began a new series called Owl in America, Notes from an American environmentalist. So far, sheâs written about the clean energy transition; the marine biosphere; land acquisition and indigenous reparations; unsung work of federal agencies to protect biodiversity; climate disinformation and accountability; wildlands conservation; and endangered species protection, among other topics.âOwl in Americaâ is a series of letters chronicling the next four years from the perspective of an environmental lawyer. Practicing conservation and public-lands law during the first Trump administration was an exercise in hope and dogged persistence amidst increasingly effective demolition tactics from Washington. Much ground was lost, only some of which was regained during Bidenâs four-year term. This time around, Iâm taking notes.
The full series is indexed here. This is the first one:
đ Entanglement
Beginning mid-January, Iâll send out one chapter a week of my novel, Flux. Itâs been a long time coming, and Iâm delighted that itâs finally ready to launch into the world (or soon will be!). The cover isnât ready yet, but hereâs the blurb:
The asthmatic climate scientist Grace Evans is a closet inventor who approaches her work (and her life) as puzzle to solve, a machine to repair. A rising academic star, she documents the harms caused by the fracking industry. Sheâs determined to expose the methane-leaking cracks in gas wells while hiding her own widening cracksâin her integrity, her relationships, her health, and her control over any of it.
đ Story
Stacy Boone, Nature's Reclaiming, an Anthropomorphized Bear, and Moral Lessons
Iâm always looking for stories that decenter human perspectives in favor of imaginative curiosity about the other beings who live here too. After reading
âs thoughts of Andrew Krivakâs The Bear, I knew her review was perfect for this feature. The Bear is now at the top of my to-read list.âIts emotional resonance is not of human sadness but something more devoted to what is buried under the snow in a winter forest or what it feels like to drift along the contours of a mountain. . . maybe instead of a label, this book should be tried on as a shadowed cloak to tip oneâs toe into a new understanding. It is an excellent read that can be completed in one evening or can be savored over the darkest nights in the depth of winter.â
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đ 2024 Index of NatureStack contributors
Curl up by the fire with this year-end abundance from the first six editions. Revisit an old favorite or discover someone new. Enjoy!
01-02 | June-July 2024: âLulled in these flowers with dances and delightâ
- , In Search of Light
- , Birdsong and Prairie Smoke: abundant, wild and perennial
- , Take Your Cues from the Muse
Artwork by
- , points in space and time
- , Wild Devotional
- , Effortlessly
- , The Vermont Notebook - Part 1
- , of the time when animals were still people
03 | August 2024: Catch a falling star
- , I have finally heard the language of nature (spoiler alert: it is legalese)
- , A Wild Swarm of Dragonflies
- , Swallowtail Vigil
Music from
, TurningsPhotography by
- , Come, said the lake
- , Moby
Review of
âs book, In This Ravishing World- , Am I Witnessing a Public Re-enchantment With the Land?
- : Deep-sea support, forever chemicals, and a river water oath
04 | September 2024: Swinging on the equinox
- , Trees are People
- , The Weekly Anthropocene, September 25 2024
- , Gray Treefrog
- , To trust the land, know the land
Photography by
- , Shriek of the Week: Wood Sandpiper
Nature journaling with
, from her Reciprocity interview- , A Note on Hope
05 | October 2024: All Soul's Day
Photography from
- , We are asked to face our abuser
- , The opposite of anxiety
- , Reimagining rain
- , Poem of the day: winged bird
- , Promise Kept
- , Nature Connection
Music from
, End Scene
06 | November 2024: Weather turning
- , Wild Petunias
Imogen Furlong of
, The magic of snow- , Learning from the landscape
- , Caring for the Local Earth, Post-Election Edition
- , Year of Spiritual Thinking
Music from
, I Stand Silent
đ Housekeeping
What did you enjoy most about this edition of NatureStack? I love to hear from readers. If you have any suggestions or requests for the next issue, do let me know in the comments or send a DM.
If you enjoyed this post, a lovely â€ïž keeps me going. Another way to help others find great nature writing on Substack is to share this post by restacking it on Notes, via the Substack app. Thanks!
Read interviews with Substackâs marvelous nature writers in the Reciprocity series, indexed here. Look for a new series starting in January with
. If youâre a nature writer and would like to be interviewed, DM me and weâll arrange it.In case you missed NatureStack #06, itâs here:
A gorgeous collection - thank you so much for putting this together đđđ
Oh, I loved seeing the list of all the NatureStack contributors in 2024. What a wonderful group. I can't wait to see what 2025 will bring! And thanks so much for linking to Owl in America. I'm getting excited to swing back into action after the holidays. đđđ