Gratitude

For Small Joys

little vine, leaves lobed 
twines through fall-cured grass 
blooms shocking scarlet

This little being is trans-Pecos morning glory, a native annual wildflower that sprouted on the roadside near my house after our late August rains, and is just beginning to bloom. Each vivid scarlet flower is barely the size of my thumbnail, and there are dozens of buds coming. Sadly, I think their hummingbird pollinators have already flown south. But I and some tiny native bees are enjoying their bounty of beauty (me) and pollen (those tiny bees).

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Hello, Friends!

For those who are new to this newsletter, here’s who I am and what I’m about:

I’m a reader of landscapes, a re-storyer of blighted houses and land, and the author of over a dozen books and hundreds of magazine articles and newspaper columns on humans and nature. My mission is to reweave our connection to this living earth by awakening our inborn terraphilia, a bond essential to being fully human.

Responding With Generosity

Before I get to this week’s gratitude post, I want to urge you to engage your generosity in response to the tragedy of Hurricane Helene and the various wars devastating people and their homelands around the world.

When I find myself horrified and overwhelmed by the news, I know from experience that the best antidote for the feeling of helplessness and doom is to do something positive. To give of my own resources, whether that’s money or time or skills or materials.

In the face of the unimaginable destruction caused by Helene, here are a few suggestions of non-profits with high ratings from Charity Navigator to donate to (or volunteer for if you can) to support those affected.

• Global Giving “GlobalGiving connects nonprofits, donors and countries in nearly every country in the world. We help fellow nonprofits access the funding, tools, training, and support they need to serve their communities.” You can donate to specific funds on their website, whether for Hurricane Helene Relief, for instance, or the Israel-Palestine Crisis Relief Fund. The money will go directly to local organizations on the ground.

• CERF+ “Serving craft artists through emergency relief, preparedness, education + advocacy.” Appalachia is home to a huge diversity of craft artists, many living in the places that were devastated by Helene. (Thanks to fiber maven Deb Robson for the suggestion.)

• World Central Kitchen “WCK is first to the frontlines, providing fresh meals [and fresh water] in response to humanitarian, climate, and community crises.” As with Global Giving, you can donate to specific efforts in specific areas, or just choose to support Chef Jose Andrés’ incredibly flexible and courageous organization wherever they are now.

I’m focusing my donations on Appalachia right now because I have friends in the region who are still without power and running water, or have trees down on their houses, blocking their roads or cannot get out because of washed-out bridges.

One of those people is Jeanne Malmgren of Rx Nature, who is currently cut off from power and cell service on her remote mountainside in South Carolina. If you don’t know Jeanne's work, now is a great time to subscribe and give her your support.

As I said above, giving your resources is a powerful way not just to do good, but to uplift others and change your perspective from overwhelmed and stressed to feeling empowered and enriched. Helping others is an excellent way to nourish our hearts and spirits.

Gratitude For Small Joys

I’ve been on the road for much of the past three weeks, driving 3,000 miles across the Rocky Mountain West, hunting for a place to live where my scarred lungs and stressed heart can recover.

Heart Mountain, one of my heart-landmarks, from above downtown Cody. The Apsáalooke (Crow) name for the mountain is Buffalo Heart Mountain.

Last week I was back in my home country of Northwest Wyoming, staying in Cody, where I used to live. The sagebrush sea of the rumpled Bighorn Basin and the eroding volcanic layers of the Absaroka Mountains on the east edge of Yellowstone will always hold my heart, and my human friendships there are deep and rich.

“Absaroka,” pronounced “AB-soar-kah” in English, is a misspelling of the Hidatsa word for the Crow people—“children of the large-beaked bird.”

It was balmy fall weather, and I had a beautiful visit. But my friends’ comment about how blue I was the last winter I lived there reminded me of why I can’t live in this beloved place: I have Raynaud’s, a circulatory syndrome that causes the capillaries in my lips, toes, fingers, and nose and other extremities to constrict in cold weather. And I have one frostbitten ear because of it. My body and northwest Wyoming’s bitter winters are not a match.

Long Drives and Moments of Joy

It’s 800 miles from Cody to my house south of Santa Fe, and the morning I left, I told myself to not get crazy and drive the whole distance in one day. I didn’t listen though. Fourteen hours later, just as night enfolded this high-desert landscape, I swung Rojita, my little red truck, into my gravel drive and backed her into the garage.

As I unloaded my things and stowed them away, I felt my exhaustion and my spirits slipping. The move ahead seems especially daunting when I’m tired. (And that move is closing in: the sale of my house here closes on October 24th, just three weeks from today.)

I reminded myself that for the remainder of my time in this sweet house in the midst of a magical landscape, I would search out and appreciate the little joys that offer themselves, every day. Hence the photo and haiku of the brilliant red trans-Pecos morning glory vines that sprouted as a late-summer surprise along the road near my house.

What a delight it is to spot those tiny but vibrant flowers on my walks! Just writing about them lifts my spirits and brings a smile.

Here’s the Exercise

The lesson for all of us: Noticing and appreciating the small joys the world offers us is an effective tonic in difficult times.

Today and every day, take time to search out and note those small joys. Spend a moment absorbing the gift of them, and record them in your memory, your journal or with a photo. They’ll last longer that way, and the lift to your mood and spirit will persist longer too.

To get you started, here’s a gallery of some of the moments of joy from my ridiculously long day driving home, and the days since.

Moments of Joy: Sunset over North Park, Colorado; the Wind River Canyon in Wyoming; quaking aspen and willow in autumn gold; riding at sunset with my herd; waning moon at dawn; nasturtiums blooming on my front portal.

May the moments of joy you find keep your heart- and spirit-banks full through these turbulent times.

Blessings to you all!

Susan