“If you domesticate an animal, it goes from being wild and free to sterile, fat and sleepy. So maybe art should stay outside.” – Banksy
Today I planted seeds I’d harvested from last year’s nasturtiums. As I pressed the seeds into the earth, it occurred to me how purely optimistic the act was. To plant a seed relies on the belief that there will be sun tomorrow, maybe even rain. The promise of new life can change the way rain feels. Necessitates it.
While I was getting muddy and feeling philosophical – as though Disney and the universe were laughing at me – it started to rain. A sun shower. I hadn’t been outside during a sun shower since I was small. The warm air, the misty drops. I mean, it was a sensational way to cool off from sweating in the garden. On cue, a baby bunny hopped out of the blackberry bushes to eat some grass within my arm’s reach. The moment was out of a Beatrix Potter book – and it was extremely off brand for this year. Perhaps, there really is a shift happening. Is it safe to hope?
To me, the unexpected magic of this moment planting seeds embodies our next theme. Wild, is about surrender. Finding bliss in the things out of our control. It’s about the psychological benefits of nature and the dose of it many of us need right now.
In this theme we’ll explore the feral; books that bend boundaries and glorify the restorative properties of wildness. We’ll ponder what happens when literature goes outside. As with our nails, when dirt gets under the dust jacket, do we feel more alive? I hope you find our picks over the next couple of months refreshing.
Thanks for reading with us!
-Candice Suchocki Weir