Pittsburgh-Area Workshop Offering (The Intimacy of Place: Cultivating a Familiarity with the Wilds)

For my local Pittsburgh people, on Sunday, August 4th from 10:00am - 12:00pm, I’ll be leading a Write on Site via Write Pittsburgh at one of my favorite places, Allegheny Cemetery - “The Intimacy of Place: Cultivating a Familiarity with the Wilds.” Tickets are free for teens (13+), suggested price $25 for adults.

Join Me Here: Tickets

“What does it mean to cultivate a deep intimacy with place, building and maintaining relationships of noticing, visiting, and revisiting the wilds around us? Join me for a workshop where we will develop methods to write on our intimacy with place, a version of the wilds that is unique and special to our individual lives and experiences, whether that be a room, a yard or garden, a neighborhood, a favorite walk, a cityscape or nature escape, etc.” 

I’ve been reading and been inspired by so many nature writers: Nan Shepherd’s The Living Mountain; Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass; basically everything by Mary Oliver. And I’ve been inspired by the wilds themselves. Growing up, going into the woods was part of my daily routine. They offered a space for exploration and imagination, an autonomy from the adults around me… and I couldn’t imagine life without them. My pappy taught me to respect nature, the animals, trees, rocks, every aspect. He never called these things sacred, but he treated them with such a reverence that I learned what sacred was through his actions. I try to bring that level of devotion to my own home, my yard, and my routine surroundings. 

One of my earliest nature memories is helping him take care of the gorgeous tree in our side yard. When the tree suffered damaged in a storm, he taught me how to patch the break to protect the tree from invasive insects. How to save trees, and how to decide which ones ultimately needed cut down. I learned how to use a chainsaw before I knew how to drive.

So much of exploration is framed in the lens of conquering: peak-bagging, checking a new city off the list, quick visits without mind to return. But there is such a beauty and a joy in routine and returning, in getting to know an area, no matter how large or small, with such an intimacy that you notice the subtleties. A rock left askew. A tree struck down by lightning. A new species of bird. A seasonal patch of wildflowers. These relationships have always grounded me when I’ve felt untethered in life, and I’m excited for the opportunity to talk about them in the company of other writers, creators, and humans.

Thanks for reading these disjointed thoughts done on my phone at the public pool. Trying out Substack’s mobile publisher.