Why I Wrote Out in the Wild: Preserving Stories Rooted in Nature

There are things we pass by every day without a second thought. A lemon on the counter. A weed pushing up through concrete. A cotton T-shirt, light as air. We live surrounded by nature’s gifts, yet rarely stop to honor them. Out in the Wild began as a desire to pause… To notice. To remember.

My Southern upbringing shaped that awareness. I grew up with dirt roads, open skies, and stories rooted in the natural world. My family gardened, cooked from scratch, and taught me that every plant has a purpose. Later in life, as I worked in law and social justice, I began to sense a disconnect, between humanity and nature, between past and present. I wanted to write poems that bridge that distance.

Protective, Powerful, and Sacred.

The book became a place to explore what we often forget: that everything created has a history. The collard greens that fed generations. The bees that keep us alive with their tireless pollinating. The dandelion, dismissed as a weed yet determined to transform. The land itself, protective, powerful, and sacred.

I wrote Out in the Wild to preserve these stories. Some are joyful. Some carry pain. But all reflect resilience. In each poem, I aimed to reveal a truth about the world and ourselves:
We are not separate from nature. We are of it.

Nature teaches us about survival, beauty, complexity, and interconnectedness. It teaches us how to grow through harsh seasons and bloom when least expected. It reminds us that our ancestors walked these same paths, nourished themselves from these same plants, and sought shelter beneath these same skies.

Honoring the wild is also honoring legacy

Acknowledging that environmental justice is inseparable from human dignity. When someone finishes reading this collection, my hope is that they feel more connected: to the land that nourishes them, to the ancestors who paved the way, and to their own inner wildness.

Because once we remember to pay attention, we begin to truly see. And once we truly see, we cannot help but care.

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Ancestral Memory in Nature: Food, Land & Identity