In Touch with the Land

I've never been a huge Wendell Berry guy. I read him in seminary. I read him after seminary. I read him when I got married and when I had children. I've read him in light of my vocation as a theologian and I've read him for his insights into the work of artists. But I've never been a WENDELL BERRY guy.

But when you plant Red Oak, Bur Oak, Fig, Evergreen, and Citrus trees, haul rock and mulch around, ride bulldozers, build berms, wield scythes, lay sod, and water, weed, and winnow, you begin to understand what he’s on about.

Phaedra and I started a new tradition yesterday, January 1. We decided we’d always plant a tree at the start of a new year. This time around, we planted four Lacy Oak trees.

We figured if we start now, we'll get shade in a decade. At some point in my seventies, I'll be able to witness the fruit of our labors. And since I plan to live to a hundred, I figure I'm just getting started.

I tell my wife that we're getting, not CrossFit, but cross-country fit, every time we work the land. Today we walked the perimeter of our property in order to find the stakes that establish its geo-physical boundary lines. Four hours later, we’d also drawn out the fence lines that would surround the immediate area of the house and thus finally make it possible for us to get dogs.

And we re-established the serpentine path that takes us down to the creek that stands as the furthermost edge of our land.

After that, Phaedra watered the Lacys, pruned the bushes, and planted a Texas Mountain Laurel, while I made phone calls to equipment rental companies in order to rent a Bush Hog plus tractor so I can mow the entire twenty-one acres.

In his book, The Art of the Commonplace, Berry writes how “the care of the earth is our most ancient and most worthy and, after all, our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it, and to foster its renewal, is our only legitimate hope.” 

Phaedra and I can’t believe we actually own this land. We're working it, and learning it, and praying to God that we steward it well for years to come and for the generations of children that will one day inherit it.

That’s the prayer. 

Phaedra and I are feeling hopeful here, by God’s grace, on January 2, 2025.