“My land.” Oh dear, this is going to be a problem. This land doesn’t belong to me in any truly meaningful sense. I’ve tried calling it “the land that I live on,” and variations thereof, but the phrasing is cumbersome and feels detached. So I’m going back to calling this “my land,” in the relationship-indicating sense that I would say “my sister” or “my friend,” and not in the ownership sense that I would say “my sock.”
Only two more weekends of the Wildwood Path remain, and in parallel all of my fellow apprentices, I’m working on my final project. It’s not like I need to write out a thesis statement, but I do need to be able to talk about the project, and figuring out this language is kind of fundamental to setting the tone. So “my land” it is, for now, although I’d love to find some authentic-feeling language that doesn’t require asterisks.
I’ve defined this project as: to identify and learn about the plants on my land that can be used for basketry; to weave them into baskets; and to reflect on the experience as broadly as feels natural. The resulting writings will be posted here.