Discussion: the song of the limberlost

Book: Sisters of the Earth

Author: Gene Stratton-Porter

Story: The Song of the Limberlost

Pages: 97-100

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It's Cancer season and I'm feeling emotionally attached to all things water, so what better time to discuss The Song of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter. This excerpt, included in Sisters of the Earth, is originally from Music of the Wild, written in 1910. In it, Stratton-Porter writes about her love of the Limberlost, a swamp in Geneva, Indiana. This swamp was drained only 2 years later, in 1912 so the land could be used for commercial development.

Thoughts to consider: How does the draining of the Limberlost swamp relate to our previous discussion on "wastelands" and land use in Susan Griffin's piece, The Use?

"...each nature-lover has his own particular brook that to him is most beautiful".

Stratton-Porter writes about the Limberlost with love. She describes the Limberlost as being most near and dear to her heart. She knows it deeply and writes about it with affection. She doesn't just list off its species in an analytical way, but tells their stories with loving observation. She describes the layers of birds, the muskrats and lambs, even the humans who come to sit, swim, and take what the wetland and its stream have to offer.

"Sweethearts linger beside the stream and surprise themselves with a new wonder they have discovered - their secret; but the Limberlost knows, and promises never to tell. Perhaps that is what it chuckles about while slipping around stones, over fallen trees, and whispering across beds of black ooze."

She describes the Limberlost as a conscious being, as a happy entity willing to give its gifts of food, water, and nourishment to all the creatures that depend on it. She describes it musically; the sounds of its own movement, both in subtilty and in pride, and the accompaniment of the trees, rushes, birds, insects, and humans that make up the whole song in unity and fullness.

Since the time of her writing, the swamp that she was so fond of has shrunk from 13,000 acres to just 1,800 protected acres divided between the Limberlost State Historic Site and the Limberlost Territory Nature Preserves. It is heartbreaking to think about the way we, humans, have decimated these wetland ecosystems. Why do we destroy these places? Why do we see them as worthless wastelands, better to be converted into developed areas or agricultural fields? I think Stratton-Porter's piece gives us some clues to begin answering these questions.

Thoughts to consider: When we take time to observe nature, to witness the interactions of animals with their environment, the consistent visitors and the seasonal changes, the water marks on shorelines in seasons of drought, the heaviness of humidity in summer - does our opinion shift about the value of the place? When we form a relationship with nature, do we look on these places with love and respect rather than with eyes hungry for personal gain and profit?

Water has always been powerful medicine for me, and there are several bodies of water that I hold near to my heart. I grew up going to "the lake" as a girl, laying at her grassy bank, watching ducks swim close to shore, feeling the cool rocks under foot as I stood in the shallows, allowing the waves to lap at my ankles. I would swim out past the end of the dock, feeling proud and brave, imagining I was a mermaid or some other aquatic creature.

Sometimes I would sit on the motor boat, feeling the wind brush my cheeks, imagining living on the small islands that speckled the lake as if they were new worlds. I would kayak out to the deepest section of water where cool air and adrenaline would leave goosebumps on my skin as I imagined some lake beast coming to capture me.

At my childhood home my siblings and I would each seek comfort and adventure "down over the bank" and at "the river" where I would fall into new characters free from the fears and anxiety that plagued my youth.

At my grandparents home there is "the creek" where my grampa has proudly built pallet bridges and paths through the woods. The creek runs along the side of their long gravel driveway, curving down a small bank and rolling through a gentle, grassy area thick with apple trees, steadily making its way through the woods. In the woods there is a place I've named "the hollow" where the creek curves below a triangular bank, covered by the dark shadows cast by the surrounding trees. In this space I have left many tears and wishes and angry thoughts behind, washed away through smooth rocks and mossy banks.

And then, of course, there is the ocean. I have visited the cool, misty shores of Maine, California, Oregon, and Washington and the humid beaches of Florida and El Salvador and I can tell you with certainty that the ocean and I are lovers. Each time I visit her shores I feel called to walk into her waters and never look back. I long to be held by her, comforted by her, and washed clean of my fears, uncertainty, and self-doubt. I have watched gulls and terns catch their evening meals, dolphins busily swimming and whales slowly rise to the surface to take a breath. I have smelt the warm, salty mixture of ocean spray and conifer needles, felt hot sand under foot and cool water slither around my ankles. I have let her wild my hair with her strong winds and felt little want to correct the newly tangled strands that dance around my face. She is wild and dangerous and misused. She is a god and I am kneeling in her tide, praying that she will love me and teach me, the ignorant child.

Water has a way of healing us, of inspiring us, and of teaching us about nature and about ourselves. Is there a body of water dear to you? Do you open your senses to all the life and wonder of wetlands and waterways?

Diver further into this piece with these questions:

• What is special about Limberlost? What native species of plants and animals rely on this habitat for nourishment and resources?

• What ecosystems do you have negative feelings towards? Are there natural areas that you feel are wastelands or unimportant?

• Could you challenge yourself to take time in these spaces to observe them with a willingness to learn and feel?