Published: April 25, 2008 08:26 am         

Hawthorn Hill

By RICHARD deROSA

The other day while waiting for new tires to be installed on my car, I had a quite interesting conversation with an acquaintance about a wide range of topics, from bluebirds to politics to the ways in which “locals” view those of us who take up residence in places where, for generations, the landscape was inhabited only by those whose families had been there for quite some time.

It got me to thinking about two topics which constantly arouse both my imagination and, at times, ire. I agree with one art critic who defines a landscape as a viewer’s perception of what he sees out there beyond himself. In other words, we make landscapes. Otherwise, all there is out there is what always has been there — hills, trees, valleys, hills, creeks, etc. A landscape, as represented by a painter, no matter how closely it might resemble the original, is always a very individualized representation of what the painter sees. It is a very subjective form of expression.

Writing about Cezanne several years ago, a critic described art as “the formal ordering of a private excitation.” That characterization of a painting act holds true for all forms of artistic expression. Put in simpler terms, the individual makes the landscape. The landscape has little say in the matter. Therefore, if an individual or family chooses to settle in a particular place because it strikes them as just right for them, they really have only one obligation. And that is to respect this place they have chosen. Their obligation is twofold: to respect the place and to ensure its continued health and vitality. Ownership requires stewardship. It means ensuring that the integrity of a place, be it a village or wheat field, is maintained by dint of active, thoughtful, and even loving stewardship. That does not necessarily mean locking oneself into old ways. Not all old ways are good ways. And new ways are not always what they are cracked up to be anyway. That is why stewardship requires using land in ways compatible with its natural patterns.

Over the years, I have walked through and driven through areas both beautified and desecrated by people who can lay claim to having worked a place for many generations. As I see it, responsible stewardship has nothing at all to do with how long one might have lived on a farm or a secluded patch of hollow up in the hills. It has everything to do with how actively and lovingly land is appreciated and, yes, worked.

That is why when I hear someone say, for instance, that they have lived on their land for 40 years and still are not accepted by the local people, it raises a few hackles. One hears this sort of thing all the time.

There are few social entities more necessary and valuable than family and community. Among the most disturbing developments of the last 50 years have been the slow deaths of the family farm, the insatiable growth of the industrial agricultural complex, and the migration of far too many young people from farms and farm communities to cities. There are indications that this trend is slowing, even reversing in some areas. But we have a long way to go.

Based on my reading, discussions, and attendance at conferences, there is reason for hope. We have run into many young people anxious to eschew the fast track for a life lived on and with the land.

My own view is that anyone, no matter how deep their family ties run or how long their families might have settled in a place, can lay claim to it no matter how well or ill they have treated the land. Neglectful and disrespectful stewardship is just that. Over the years I have met quite a few socalled outsiders (a book I read recently used the term outlanders!) who have bought up land, much of it unproductive, in some cases abused, and by the sheer force of will, commitment, and love, restored its fertility, made it increasingly productive, and built meaningful lives for themselves and their children. My point here is that to ignore or denigrate someone just because he happens to have moved into the neighborhood is to be guilty of a type of prejudice that settles nicely into the trough that all others inhabit. It is one that I choose not to drink from.

On the other hand, there are those who move in, buy up potentially productive land, and build mansions that are ugly, self-glorifying, and energy depleting. I guess if I were an old timer living down the road I would ignore, even bad mouth the newcomer around the potbelly stove at the corner store or feed lot myself. Some things are just not all that digestible.

But in cases where those who do move into a neighborhood exhibit a conspicuous respect for the land and the people and community they have opted to join, there is no reason at all to treat them as second-class citizens. In most cases, people are drawn to those with whom they share core values. Come to think of it, a community and marriage have a lot in common.

We marry out of our bloodlines for obvious genetic reasons. A community that is so genetically landlocked that it rejects anyone or anything just because it is new or different is doomed. History does have some useful lessons to teach us.

In the final analysis, whether one is accepted or not, it really does not matter all that much. Each of us makes our own lives. We create our own landscapes. Our lives are works of art always in progress. My own experience is that over time, people soften and doors open. If not, so be it. You know what they say about horses and water.