🍃 Reciprocity: the interview
6 questions for Jeanne Malmgren
Nature writer, n. A person who delights in paying attention, being astonished, and telling about it.1
“There’s this thrilling sense of gratitude that I can string together words in honor of our breathtakingly beautiful and fragile Gaia. Writing about nature also helps me, on a personal level, process the emotions that wash over me out there in the woods. Most recently, it has helped me express the immense grief I feel, living surrounded by so many trees that gave their lives to Hurricane Helene.” ~ Jeanne Malmgren
Welcome to Season 2 of the Reciprocity interviews. My inbox is full of treasure in the form of lovingly observed writing about place, encounters both wild and gentle, imaginative kinship and renewed reciprocity. These thoughtful, talented writers kindled in me the desire to learn more about them.
Today’s guest, Jeanne Malmgren, is an author and psychotherapist who lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of South Carolina. She writes/publishes “Rx Nature” on Substack, and is the author of Good Eye, Bad Eye: A Memoir of Trauma and Truth. She was formerly a magazine and newspaper journalist, and holds a Masters degree in clinical mental health.
I love that Jeanne says her office is in the woods. A recent post-election essay reminded me that “Nature is always here for us.”2 It’s helpful to be reminded of that anytime, especially from a trusted guide who’s weathered some of the worst that mother Gaia can dish out.3
Rx Nature is a treasure trove of musings on the human-nature connection. It’s dedicated to the green world and our shared love for the beauty we can find there. Jeanne believes the best “prescription” for so many modern-world ailments is to spend time outdoors—so Rx Nature aims to inspire us all to head into the woods.
Why are you drawn to nature writing?
Writing about nature combines two of my great loves. With every year I’m alive, I admire the beauty and resilience of the Earth more and more. I took it for granted when I was young but now, in my seventh decade, I’m awestruck by the gift of having been born on this planet. What a blessing! And of course, what a responsibility to protect her however we can.
Because writing is something I enjoy doing, it makes sense that I would use that mode of expression to share my love of the natural world. (I wish I could also draw or paint what I see in nature, maybe compose music about it, but … words are my medium. They’re what I know.) Also, I think nature writing is increasingly vital as our species becomes more digitally-focused and self-absorbed. So many of us are losing our sense of connection with this Earth we walk on. Hopefully, nature writing—mine or anyone’s—will bring us back home.
How does writing about nature affect you, in your work or personal life?
Every time I sit down to write a piece about something in the natural world, I feel happy. I am grounded and stable. There’s this thrilling sense of gratitude that I can string together words in honor of our breathtakingly beautiful and fragile Gaia. Writing about nature also helps me, on a personal level, process the emotions that wash over me out there in the woods.
Most recently, it has helped me express the immense grief I feel, living surrounded by so many trees that gave their lives to Hurricane Helene. I see the devastation all around me here in the Blue Ridge Mountains—everywhere I drive, everywhere I walk, every time I look out the window—and my only way to make meaning from the sorrow has been to write about it, and to read others’ writing about it.
While outside, have you ever experienced feeling small, lost or in danger?
I remember walking among the redwoods in Muir Woods several years ago and feeling gloriously small. Those sylvan beings are so huge, so silent and majestic. Their sentience just blew me away. I felt small but also madly in love—with the trees, with the air, with the moment.
As for danger, I was terrified once during a canoe camping trip along a remote river in Florida. A pair of men came into our campsite at dusk and were menacing us with axes. We ripped our tents from the ground, threw them in the canoes, and paddled off into the dark. I had a flashlight clenched between my teeth as I paddled. But … it wasn’t nature that scared me. It was humans.
What’s a favorite memory of nature from your childhood?
When I was little, we’d visit my grandparents in South Dakota every summer. My grandfather was an outdoorsman—hunting, fishing, etc.—and he was probably the first person to show me the wonders of nature. He and I would sit on the front steps of their duplex and he’d lay out a trail of peanuts on the sidewalk so we could watch squirrels come and grab them. It was miraculous. Then, when I was between the ages of 10 and 13, my family lived in a house with a small patch of piney woods behind us.
My brothers, who were much older than I, had left home to go to college and I was lonely. So I spent a lot of time in that small wood, amusing myself for hours. My favorite thing was to gather twigs, stones, leaves, fragments of moss—anything that caught my eye. I’d use those earthy materials to create miniature “villages.” I made huts with mossy roofs, tiny swings in the yard, little ponds and bridges. A whole world in miniature. I was learning how to be comfortable and creative in nature.
What do hope for, for your writing?
I can think of no higher calling than to remind others of our connection with the natural world—that we are part of that world, not detached observers or consumers who can take, take, take and not give back. I want to light that spark of caring in people. I hope my writing helps readers fall in love (or back in love) with the Earth, particularly the patch of ground where they live and work and play. I think that’s the only way we’re going to save this planet, if each of us becomes a loving steward of the little piece of it where we happen to be.
A writer or other creative artist who makes you hopeful for humanity and the earth.
Oh, do I have to limit myself to one? I hope not. There are so many! Let’s see … first of all would be Janisse Ray, the Georgia author whose Earth-forward way of life and body of work are so inspiring to me. I met Janisse when I wrote a profile of her for the St. Petersburg Times, 25 years ago, and we’ve remained friends.
Then there’s Annie Dillard, who wrote my all-time favorite nature book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.4 It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1975. David Attenborough is another favorite. When I was a journalist, I was lucky enough to interview him. He’s so gracious, with encyclopedic knowledge of plants and animals. I also admire Susun Weed and the many other green witches—some famous, some my local neighbors—who work in partnership with the Earth to sustainably harvest the healing plants she offers us.
One last category would be all the folks I’ve profiled in the Champions of Nature feature in my newsletter.5 I’ve done more than 25 so far, with more on the way. They’re all such earnest Earth-tenders, each in their own area of expertise, and I’m honored to highlight their good works.
Each season, we donate 30% of paid subscriptions to a worthy environmental cause. This season, it’s the Center for Humans and Nature, where they explore what it means to be human in an interconnected world. Track past and current recipients here.
What did you enjoy most about this essay? I’d love to hear from you. Or share it with others by restacking on Notes, via the Substack app. Thanks!
Notes and links
If you’d like to participate in this interview series, please DM me on chat, or reach out via email: gabrielli-dot-julie-at-gmail. Find previous interviews here.
For more inspired nature writing and artwork from the best of Substack, check out the articles in NatureStack journal.
In further service to Substack’s nature writers,
curates this lovely directory of nature-focused writers:
thanks, Mary Oliver
This dispatch, “We survived ... so far,” is her post “Hell-ene” update.
Editor’s note (can’t help myself): it’s mine too!
 | A guest post by
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Thank you all for your kind words. And most of all, thanks to you, Julie. This was fun!
Thank you for introducing me to Jeanne. I feel like I've met another kindred spirit!