I’ve had Braiding Sweetgrass sitting on my to-be-read list for years. With its high rating on Goodreads, I always knew it was something special, but the length kept pushing me to read “just one more” slightly shorter book first. Then, I saw that Robin Wall Kimmerer has a new book releasing next week, and I remembered this gem sitting on my shelf, still unread. I decided it was finally time to read it before her new book arrived and it turns out, the wait was so worth it that now I can hardly wait for her next release!
Kimmerer’s writing is a beautiful blend of science, storytelling, and Indigenous wisdom. She breaks the book down into stages that reflect the life cycle of sweetgrass: planting, tending, picking, braiding, and burning. Each stage unfolds new lessons, intertwining the lives of plants with life wisdom. Through this structure, she not only explores our relationship with land but also the deeper responsibilities we hold toward the ecosystems we’re part of.
The book felt like attending both an art class and a science seminar led by a storyteller. Kimmerer’s stories—whether from her own life or traditional Indigenous myths—bring each concept to life in a way that resonates emotionally and intellectually. She’s sharing fascinating secrets about the world around us. Her detailed explorations of plants like strawberries, pecans, and, of course, sweetgrass left me marveling at nature.
What touched me most was how Kimmerer calls us to rethink our relationship with nature. Reading her work, I felt compelled to reflect on my own impact, especially living in an urban center. Her message feels especially vital now, as she speaks of endangered species, polluted landscapes, and the reciprocal role we play in the natural world. She doesn’t just mourn what’s lost; she inspires readers to take action, to reconnect with the land as something more than a resource.
This is a book I know I’ll return to over the years, finding new layers each time. Now, after finishing Braiding Sweetgrass, I’m more than ready for Kimmerer’s new release: The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World.
Summary
Mast Fruiting, Nature’s Way of Balance and Survival
Mast fruiting, a remarkable phenomenon where trees like pecans produce an overwhelming abundance of nuts, is crucial for forest regeneration. This strategy ensures that trees produce enough nuts to exceed the needs of animals like squirrels, who would otherwise consume every seed. If trees were to produce only a few nuts each year, they’d risk losing all their seeds to predators, hindering forest renewal. But producing nuts in such abundance is costly, so trees only do this when they’ve stored enough energy, a principle that aligns with the idea of only giving when one can afford it.
This cycle of generosity, known as the predator-satiation hypothesis, may seem at odds with survival, but it’s actually a clever evolutionary strategy. By flooding the environment with nuts, trees satisfy squirrels and other animals, reducing the chance of all nuts being eaten and allowing some to grow into new trees. When a mast fruiting season occurs, squirrels and other animals benefit by stocking up on food, leading to a boom in their populations. This, in turn, fuels the ecosystem, supporting more predators like hawks and foxes. However, when trees stop producing nuts the following season, food becomes scarce. Squirrels, driven to find food, expose themselves to predators, leading to a drop in their population. Thus, the ecosystem balances itself naturally.
Interestingly, scientists have discovered that trees communicate to synchronize this behavior. Underground fungal networks called mycorrhizae connect tree roots, allowing trees to share resources like carbohydrates. These hidden “fungal bridges” might help trees coordinate when to initiate mast fruiting, underscoring the interconnectedness of forest life. Through this intricate web of cooperation, trees balance their own survival with the ecosystem’s health, showing how nature’s rhythms promote both individual and communal well-being.
What Plants and People Teach Us About Love and Connection
The relationship between plants and people is more than just an exchange; it’s a powerful force that has shaped the evolution of both. In our co-evolutionary dance, plants like peaches adapt to our preferences: the sweeter the fruit, the more likely we are to spread its seeds and ensure its survival. This mutual benefit, where the well-being of one supports the other, echoes the essence of love itself.
In a discussion on people’s connection to the land, a question arose: What if the earth loved us back? Initially, it felt awkward, but the idea sparked a profound thought—if we believed the earth cared for us, we’d be less likely to harm it. We cherish and protect what we feel is a source of love.
Loving the earth motivates us to defend and celebrate it, but feeling loved by the earth creates a deeper, sacred bond. This sense of mutual care inspires a relationship built on respect, a connection that goes beyond need and becomes an act of reverence and gratitude. Through this perspective, love becomes not only a feeling but a practice that fosters harmony and protects the world that sustains us.
We are linked in a co-evolutionary circle. The sweeter the peach, the more frequently we disperse its seeds, nurture its young, and protect them from harm. Food plants and people act as selective forces on each other’s evolution—the thriving of one in the best interest of the other. This, to me, sounds a bit like love.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
The Three Sisters, Nature’s Blueprint for Harmony and Abundance
The “Three Sisters“—corn, beans, and squash—are a testament to the wisdom of Indigenous agriculture. Planted together, these crops do more than feed people; they enrich the soil and offer a model for balanced living. Each sister has a unique role in this partnership, ensuring that both the land and community are nurtured.
Corn, the first to sprout, stands tall and strong, creating a structure for the beans to climb. Bean plants, well-equipped with nutrients, wrap around the corn, offering support without competing for space. Squash, the slow-growing sister, spreads broad leaves at their base, shading the soil and conserving moisture. This layered planting approach, perfected over generations, maximizes sunlight and resources—a powerful lesson in efficiency and cooperation.
A traditional story of the Three Sisters speaks of a time when three mysterious women visited a village on a cold winter night. The villagers, despite having little to offer, shared what food they had. In gratitude, the three women revealed themselves as the spirits of corn, beans, and squash, gifting seeds to the people to ensure they would never go hungry again. This tale reflects the Indigenous principle of reciprocity: when we share with generosity, the earth gives back in abundance.
Beyond their roles in the field, these plants complement each other on the table. Corn provides energy-rich carbohydrates, beans bring protein through their nitrogen-fixing abilities, and squash adds essential vitamins. Together, they form a complete diet, each one contributing what the others lack.
The Three Sisters teach us about the power of community—about respecting each other’s strengths, supporting one another, and recognizing that together, we can achieve more than we ever could alone. In their growth and coexistence, these plants offer a beautiful reminder of how harmony, balance, and reciprocity can sustain both the earth and our spirits.
You can tell they [corn, bean, and pumpkin] are sisters: one twines easily around the other in relaxed embrace while the sweet bay sisters lolls at their feet, close, but not too close—cooperating, not competing. Seems to me I’ve seen this before in human famlies, in the interplay of sisters. The firstborn girl knows that she is clearly in charge; tall and direct, upright and efficient, she ccretaes the template for everyone else to folllow. That’s the corn sister. There’s not room for more than one corn woman in the same house, so the middle sister is likely to adapt in different ways. This bean girl learns to be flexible, adaptable, to find a way around the dominnat structure to get the light that she needs. The sweet baby sister is free to choose a different path, as expectations have already been fulfilled. Well grounded, she has nothing to prove and finds her own way, a way that contributes to the good of the whole.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
Life Lessons from Lichens, Thriving Through Cooperation and Resilience
Lichens, a unique partnership of algae and fungi, offer us profound lessons on survival and cooperation. Scientists puzzled over how these two species manage to merge into a single organism, known as lichen. When placed together in lab conditions with ample resources, algae and fungi coexisted separately, showing no interest in forming a partnership. But under extreme scarcity and stress, the two came together, the fungal hyphae enveloping the algae in a mutual embrace. It was only through shared hardship that they learned to cooperate—a lesson in the power of unity in difficult times.
In favorable conditions, living things often thrive independently. Yet, when resources are scarce, survival relies on mutual aid and interdependence. Lichens embody this, adapting to make the best use of available resources and enduring in harsh conditions. Many lichens, like Umbilicaria, survive dry spells by entering a dormant state, only reactivating when rain arrives. In mere minutes, a desiccated lichen transforms into a vibrant green, its tissues stretching and flexing as they absorb water. This miraculous shift highlights their adaptability and resilience.
Lichens are key players in ecosystems, blending the two foundational food chains: one that builds life and another that decomposes it. By slowly gathering soil around them, lichens pave the way for mosses, ferns, and other plants to take root, contributing to ecological succession. In this way, lichens embody balanced reciprocity, creating a space for others to flourish without seeking growth or accumulation for themselves.
The endurance of lichens teaches us the value of simplicity, longevity, and sustainability. Thriving under adversity, they remind us that success doesn’t always mean rapid growth; sometimes, it’s about enduring and evolving with grace. While lichens can nourish people, they are sensitive to environmental damage. Lichens like Umbilicaria are indicators of pure air, a natural reminder of the delicate balance they help sustain. In honoring lichens, we honor resilience, cooperation, and the lasting impact of life lived in harmony.
Healing the Earth, A Pathway from Despair to Action
In a world saturated with messages about environmental destruction, it’s no wonder we feel powerless. Environmentalism has become a source of dread rather than hope, and our instinct to care for the earth often feels stifled. But giving in to despair paralyzes us, robbing us of the power we share with the earth. Instead of feeling helpless, we need to hear the land’s call for help—and answer it.
Ecological restoration offers a path to action. Beyond simply “stopping harm,” restoration allows us to rebuild our relationship with the earth in a way that’s both material and deeply meaningful. Think of it as “doing the dishes” in Mother Earth’s kitchen after a generous feast. It may sound like drudgery, but anyone who’s joined in washing up knows that the best conversations, laughter, and connections happen in the kitchen. Similarly, restoring the land is a way of forming and strengthening our bond with nature.
Our approach to land restoration depends on how we view the land itself. If we see it as mere capital or private property, restoration may become transactional or functional, like fixing a machine. But if we understand the land as a partner and healer, we realize it has wisdom to offer. This perspective emphasizes reciprocity—treating restoration as a way to care for the ecosystems that support us, as much as they care for us in return.
The Indigenous worldview sees land as a community, with humans as responsible partners. Restoration isn’t just about removing contaminants or improving water flow; it’s about rekindling our connection to the land. Without a genuine relationship, any restoration effort is hollow and short-lived. Healing the earth requires restoring our relationship with it, nurturing a partnership that will endure.
Here are more lessons we can apply to our lives:
- Refuse to Buy Nature’s Gifts In past times, people understood the world as a gift, something to treasure rather than exploit. To regain this perspective today, we need to avoid buying into those who would sell the earth’s gifts. Choosing not to participate in consumerism is, in itself, an act of respect.
- Plant a Garden A garden is a place where we cultivate connection—not just with plants but with the earth itself. Gardens nourish both our bodies and spirits, giving us a space to practice gratitude and respect.
- Take Only What You Need, and Use It Well This simple principle, a reminder from nature, encourages us to live with intention, respecting what we take from the earth and ensuring nothing goes to waste.
Healing the earth begins with healing our relationship with it. By embracing restoration, respect, and reciprocity, we can create a future where both humans and nature thrive together.
My Favorite Bits
What if you were a teacher but had no voice to speak your knowledge? What if you had no language at all and yet there was something you needed to say? Wouldn’t you dance it? Wouldn’t you act it out? Wouldn’t your every movement tell the story? In time you would be so eloquent that just to gaze upon you would reveal it all. And so it is with these silent green lives.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
Respiration—the source of energy that lets us farm and dance and speak. The breath of plants gives life to animals and the breath of animals gives life to plants. My breath is your breath, your breath is mine. It’s the great poem of give and take, of reciprocity that animates the world. Isn’t that a story worth telling? Only when people understand the symbiotic relationships that sustain them can they become people of corn [light people who live with gratitude and humility], capable of gratitude and reciprocity.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
It is not the land that has been broken but our relationship to it.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
Author: Robin Wall Kimmerer
Publication date: 15 October 2013
Number of pages: 408 pages
