We live the given life, and not the planned.
~ Wendell Berry
Wendell Berry died this week. He left this life on the eve of the World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation, which is the beginning of the five-week Season of Creation in the Catholic Church. In his homily for the day, Pope Leo XIV shared sentiments that sounded like something Berry would have appreciated (despite Berry being a lifelong Baptist).
From contemplating creation and encountering its Creator, there arises an awareness of our particular place within God’s wondrous plan, and of the responsibility that we bear both personally and collectively for preserving the original harmony. Thus, as we become conscious of our shortcomings and failures, we can renew our commitment to restoring the relationships among all creatures according to the will of their Creator.
Pope Leo XIV, Holy Mass for the Care of Creation, September 1, 2026
For so many of us, Berry’s work helped us discern our place — or where our place might be — in the economy of creation. I felt his loss like the passing of an old friend, even though I never met him.
As I’ve written before, I was introduced to Berry as a college student struggling to choose between an agriculture major and an English major. My advisor in the agriculture department told me the pursuits were not mutually exclusive. He asked if I had ever heard of Berry.
At the time, I was working at the College of the Ozarks dairy. A country girl at heart, I hadn’t been sure I even wanted to go to college. But C of O is a different sort of school, with a work program allowing students to avoid debt while working on campus. Since it was founded, C of O has had an integrated agriculture program, including an on-campus dairy operation. I remember touring the school, seeing the cows, and thinking — I could do this.
Finding the large-scale farming emphasis of my agriculture classes at odds with the holistic small-scale model I’d grown up with, I ultimately switched my major to English. My agricultural roots stayed with me, though — and in the English department, I heard more about Berry. We read his works. We discussed his philosophies. To this day, I remember some of our class discussions about his novella “Remembering.” The feeling of displacement caused by modern society resonated with me, as I, too, longed for times and ways of being that seemed to be slipping away.
I’ve always been an unapologetic idealist, believing that if there was a right way to do something, then that right way ought to be possible. It was certainly easier to live connected to nature and our communities a hundred years ago, but it isn’t impossible now. Now is the life we’ve been given, and what we do with it is what we ultimately offer to God.
The chance you had is the life you’ve got. You can make complaints about what people, including you, make of their lives after they have got them, and about what people make of other people’s lives, (…) but you mustn’t wish for another life. You mustn’t want to be somebody else. What you must do is this: “Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks.” I am not all the way capable of so much, but those are the right instructions.
― Wendell Berry, Hannah Coulter
My life certainly hasn’t turned out the way I planned as a dreamy-eyed college student. I have learned to give thanks in this messy, imperfect, given life — even while complaining at times about the things and people gone wrong. I’ve taken steps over the years to move toward the sort of being Berry described, no matter how slowly. I’m blessed to have family that is similarly minded. When we drove around the midwest looking for the place we wanted to homestead, we visited the Berry Center in New Castle, Kentucky.
I got to see Port Royal, too — the town Berry based his famous Port William on. The experience was surreal indeed.
While we didn’t settle in Kentucky, I think Berry would appreciate that we landed right here in the land of our own ancestry. My mom’s people have lived in the Ozarks since the 1830s, and some of my dad’s family have as well.
The news of Berry’s passing came during the hottest week of summer to date. I’m still not living up to Berry’s ideal, but I’m closer to a rightly ordered existence than I used to be. I thought of him this week, as I worked in the garden under the blistering sun. This is creatureliness, this interaction with the flora and dirt and sky. It is in turn both glorious and miserable. This week, it has been downright wearying.
With all the heat, we’ve been spending most of our time indoors deep cleaning the bunkhouse. We put our living room back together this week, as we had moved furniture around to accommodate Tilde’s puppies. Even though we only ended up with one pup, there was still a big whelping box in we sisters’ room, and then a little pen. Now the pup roams the room freely, and she is mostly potty trained to the kennel outside. We are hoping she will find her forever home soon, as we are getting attached to her.
On Friday, a bunch of us ran some errands in Springfield. On the way, we picked up some breakfast burritos at Hot Spot in Ash Grove — based on the suggestion of our brother Jeremiah, who had sampled one awhile back. I didn’t have high expectations from a gas station convenience store — but boy, were we in for a treat. We agreed they were the best breakfast burritos we’ve ever had — full of sausage, bacon, eggs, and some sort of queso sauce. We were intrigued by the label, which read Wilmoth Ranch — an operation out of neighboring Lawrence County. We had to do a little research when we got home, and we found out the Wilmoth family owns the gas station. Far from being your typical convenience store, barbecue is one of their specialties. We had already been impressed by the coffee bar and drink selection, and the service is always friendly and professional. We will definitely be repeat customers.
The day finished with some Friday night chaos. One of our two main air conditioners went out. We weren’t surprised, as our indoor temps have hovered in the mid-80s most days lately, despite the running systems. We jumped online, found a replacement at Menards in Springfield, and our dad headed off to pick it up. It was a late night of installation, but our brother Jeremiah did most of the heavy lifting. It ended up a blessing in disguise, as we can tell already that this new unit is working much better.
There as an irony in the air conditioning drama this week. Wendell Berry, as far as I have read, lived without air conditioning his entire life. It was part of his rejection of the rhythms of modern society, believing people should live integrated in nature. Ever the idealist, I do think Berry’s ways are better. We lived without air conditioning for two years when we first moved out here (excepting a little unit we ran in the tent at night to make it bearable). I remember days we just had to stop. We would rinse off in the hose or dip in our spring. We’d sit in our hammocks under the cicada filled trees. It was hard to be slowed down, but in hindsight, those moments were lovely — if a tad sticky. These days, we have family working remote jobs in the bunkhouse — jobs that would be miserable if not impossible without air conditioning. For most of us, that is our future, as we are finishing up this initial construction project and looking toward a future where we will need more financial stability. Reflecting on Berry and the legacy he left, I’m thankful for his bravery and fortitude, blazing a trail to an older way of living — even if I’m not quite there myself.