Our timelapse and landscape talent Eleanor is also a history buff. She made some observations about the stonewalls that we found in South Hope with the last timelapse we shot. Building stonewalls are experiences of Americana, of who we are and where we came from, in the big picture of the stone and wood we’ve literally held in our hands over the years. E.O. Wilson differentiates the living creation from the non-living creation. With this lead, my interests in this filmic inquiry are primarily with the living. But the American divorce from nature runs deeper than that.

FROM ELEANOR: “Rarely in need of replacement, constructing stone walls were massive undertakings. This is one reason why they are so familiar in the earliest settled regions of the country, like South Hope Maine, where the frontier mentality had yet to take hold: unlike their children and grandchildren, these farmers expected to spend their entire lives on a single plot of land. A worker could lay between twenty four and sixty four feet of wall per day, assuming that the stones, or “fieldstones,” as they were called, had already been transported to the building site.

Historian John Stilgoe notes that wooden fences, which became the popular barrier among farmers outside of the northeastern US, were replaced every fifteen to thirty years. When in the early nineteenth century, depleted woodlots triggered a timber shortage, it was the stone wall laying farmers that had enough wood to keep their fires burning. Of course, it was also these northernmost people who, hibernating from frigid temperatures, were most in need of firewood.”

For more information on the life and times of stonewalls, see: Robert Thorson, Stone by Stone: The Magnificent History in New England’s Stone Walls (Walker & Company, 2004).
John R. Stilgoe, Common Landscape of America, 1580-1845 (Yale University Press, 1983).

All of life sampled in one ship. One ship, with no apparent means of moving about. No sails. No engine. Only its own surface area, being pushed around by wind and water. All of life aboard, including humanity. Each trying to protect itself, carve out a niche. Some stronger than others. Some louder. Some more persistent. Others more patient. Some visible. Most not.

We focus on this ship. Why was it built? What runs it? Where has it come from? Where is it going? Can a steady course be steered long enough to avoid the common shoals ahead? Or is it there that we will rest, while the water recedes, life jumps ship, and we wait for the seas to rise again?

The talk and screening is part of the US Environmental Film Festival, in its 18th year. For those of you who are enthusiasts for films about the people/nature connection, there are 155 diverse films screening between March 16th and 28th. Special programs exist for children and are marked by a family-friendly symbol in the festival program.

To care, we need to know. To know, we need to experience. If we cannot get outside enough, how will we ever care? Sometimes, a creative solution can bridge the generational and media gaps within a family. Like the one that the pastor Tri Robinson writes about in a chapter called The Garden Shed: Practical Ideas (from his book Saving God’s Green Earth).

“I asked people to enlarge personal pictures of them enjoying the outdoors and bring them to church for display in our lobby for an art exhibit. If people didn’t have any pictures, I encouraged them to get out there so they could take some.” Another way of knowing and talking about what’s happening outside.

It seems that science, as a procedure-of-observation, should be considered the essential map of WHAT changes are happening and WHAT to do to about them. But I believe that scientific information alone will not reverse the ways that humans are wrecking the planet. Faith communities are essential for this reversal to happen.