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Her objective here is not to facilitate or perpetuate a loathing of nature's enemies. Her objective is a call to bear arms (metaphorically speaking, of course) - a call to reinstate in humanity a love and respect for the natural globe that nourishes us. Her vocalism is soothing, her words poetic. Referring to a instructor, "Her eyes were blackness as petty universes." This book is one that makes you wake up the adjacent morning and program a hike through whatever wilderness y'all have available to you - it will make you finish on the trail and look around and really count the dissimilar trees, peradventure commit some of them to memory and learn about their history, and perhaps you lot'll be surprised to even learn that something inanimate like a tree actually has such an intimate history. Her book is one that will force yous to finish quietly on the trail and observe the passing snake, to come across its dazzler and non to be frightened. What makes her then much more lovely than, say, Edward Abbey is that she has hope. She believes firmly that "there is a miracle for you if you keep holding on" and she imagines 1 mean solar day rising from her grave to come across her granddaughter's granddaughter roaming the second coming of the forests we are losing today. Abbey, while enjoyable and rather humorous, believes anyone not beholden of nature is a deadbeat earthling. Abbey is a cynic. Ray believes that we tin can restore an appreciation - believes that those who underestimate the value of nature simply haven't been shown its wonders. And what she aims to do (and indeed succeeds beautifully) is to testify the reader these wonders and drives the reader out of doors to experience them showtime hand.
Ray's volume, though, is more than than a eulogy to nature. It is besides a memoir that tells of her life growing upwardly in a strictly fundamentalist and dogmatic religious household. She writes this book as a series of vignettes, writing ane affiliate about a family unit member, another nearly a species of bird, and another nigh growing upwardly in a junkyard. Her book transcends any sort of chronology. But the lack of a fluid narrative (that is, this happened and then this happened then this happened) does not backbite from the telling of her life story. Life, later on all, is not recollected from babyhood up to this morning. Equally you feel your twenty-four hours to 24-hour interval life unproblematic memories are conjured or at once you take this sudden urge to recall everything you can near a family member since deceased. This is Janisse Ray's book - a telling of a story worth telling, a telling of a honey worth having, and a plea to save a human relationship (man and nature) worth saving.
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"I dunno."
"And so why are y'all reading that volume?"
"A professor recommended information technology."
"Is information technology skilful?"
"I but started."
"The bits you've read aloud to me don't sound very interesting."
"You're missing all of the context."
Then the conversation went. After reading Janisse Ray'south Ecology of a Cracker Childhood, I can elaborate. The word "cracker" is used as a pejorative to draw poor whites in the American South, simply similar many pejoratives, it has b
"What's a cracker?""I dunno."
"So why are you reading that book?"
"A professor recommended it."
"Is it expert?"
"I simply started."
"The bits you've read aloud to me don't sound very interesting."
"You lot're missing all of the context."
So the conversation went. After reading Janisse Ray'southward Ecology of a Cracker Childhood, I can elaborate. The word "cracker" is used as a pejorative to draw poor whites in the American South, merely like many pejoratives, information technology has been embraced by the people it is used to insult. (A similar thing happened with the word "Yankee" dorsum in the day.) Despite Ray's repeated protestations that her family was non poor, she did grow upward in the midst of poverty, and her family's source of income was not respectable enough for her to feel proud of information technology after leaving for college. She has since mined her memories and experiences of coming of age in a junkyard and synthetic meaning and beauty out of them, but she blames the junkyard for driving away her first higher young man.
I find the title of this book to be an interesting pick because the centre of Ray'due south developed interests (if not her childhood ones) was the longleaf pine (Pinus palustris). This book is mayhap less of an exploration of the ecology of a cracker babyhood than information technology is of the environmental of the longleaf forests that used to cover the southeastern United States and of the interior mural that Ray fostered throughout her babyhood as a consequence of growing up her father's girl, grandfathers' grandchild, and the product of her other familial relationships. Ray is no cracker, but she is nearly definitely firmly rooted in a sense of place--and that place is the increasingly threatened remnant of a wood Ray never really got to see.
The longleaf pines were almost all cut down betwixt 1890 and 1920, back when ships were still made of timber and resin, and when the tall pines fabricated attractive and sturdy masts for the merchant navy that stripped the eastern seaboard of its tradable goods. Ray never saw the forest because it was gone long before her birth, her male parent's nativity, and probably even her grandfather'due south time. And all the same--and withal--the forest was important to her, a manner of connecting the fragments of herself and her own story, of closing the distance between her story and that of her grandfather, and betwixt her story and that of the people who settled, destroyed, and continue to inhabit the land of her childhood. The longleaf pines give Ray a lost place in which to observe herself.
I'g pretty certain this book was recommended to me because I write about trees a lot, as well--and the trees I grew upward under are scattered even wider than the home range ofPinus palustris. Still, I kind of sympathise Ray, and mayhap fifty-fifty feel a kinship to her need for belonging--and the tight connection betwixt something that tin exist living, and lost, and location-specific all at the aforementioned time. Trees do not automatically industry a spiritual (or sublime) experience for me, but they do provide a convenient place for me to connect the dots between my torso, my listen, and my soul. The green spaces that sheltered me--in Lubbock, Laguna Niguel, Sydney, Wray, Lethbridge, Orlando, Siloam Springs, Denver, and now Tucson--are the places where I felt safety. There is a particular fallen tree in Risinghurst, Oxford, and a stretch of Lake Barkley somewhere in the misty zone of the Land Between the Lakes, that I will call abode for the rest of my life. I dubiousness I'll be able to visit either spot again, much less inhabit any of the houses in which I hung over atlases and adventure books equally a kid. Like Ray, I am an exile from these places. Unlike Ray, I have neat hope for finding more.
I am also drawn to Ecology of a Cracker Childhood because Ray is an elliptical writer. She leaves a certain amount of storytelling work to the reader, and leaves a lot up to the reader'south imagination. I am not, for example, certain if Ray considers herself a Christian, fifty-fifty though faith--specifically, her begetter's bourgeois faith--occupies a large space in her narrative arc. I'm non certain, from reading this book, whether Ray is at peace with herself.Maybe. Perhaps not. Does it matter?Maybe. Perhaps non.
I am left curious most Ray's transformation into machismo, which seems to accept taken place outside of her home range. Such a story might operate independently of her childhood memories and her developed fascination with longleaf pines--or it might say something important about her maturation process. Did altitude from domicile, from refuge amid the trees, inform her understanding of loss and faith? Equally fantabulous as Ecology of a Cracker Childhood is, I do not experience like it is complete.
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Janisse Ray grew up in a junkyard, and at kickoff I found her writing to exist cluttered like a junkyard. A memory here, a story there. The regularity of the book is that she alternates chapters well-nigh her childhood with chapters about local ecology. After a while, though, I grew a
If you lot ever do pick upwardly this book, I suggest you search for videos on YouTube of Janisse Ray and watch a couple of them - ones of her speaking. Her Southern accent is and so rich and beautiful; I heard her vox as I read the book.Janisse Ray grew up in a junkyard, and at kickoff I found her writing to be chaotic similar a junkyard. A retentivity here, a story there. The regularity of the book is that she alternates capacity about her childhood with chapters about local ecology. After a while, though, I grew accustomed to her writing and enjoyed it. What she wrote about in this book - the loss of the majestic longleaf pino forests of the South - is so important, the message transcends the packaging and hits you directly in the middle. This book brought tears to my eyes many 'a fourth dimension.
1 of my favorite passages (you may want to stop hither if you might read the book):
"Something happens to you in an sometime-growth forest. At first y'all are curious to see the tremendous girth and height of the trees, and you sally forth, eager. You lot starting time to saunter, then amble, slower and slower, beginning like a fox and then an armadillo and and then a tortoise, until you are trudging at the pace of an earthworm, and so even slower, the stride of a sassafras leafage's turning. The blood begins to languish in your veins, until you remember it has turned to sap. You hanker to bear on the trees and encompass them and lean your face against their bark, and you do. You aroma them. You await up at leaves so high their shapes are beyond focus, into far branches with circumferences every bit thick equally most trees.
Every limb of your body becomes weighted, and y'all accept to prop yourself up. At that place's this foreign electric current of free energy running skyward, similar a g tiny bells tied to your capillaries, ringing with your heartbeat. You sit and lean confronting one body - information technology'south like leaning against a house or a mountain. The trunk is your spine, the nerve centers reaching into other worlds, beneath footing and above. You stand and press your body into the ancestral and enduring, arms wide, and your fingers do not affect. Y'all wonder how big the unseen gap.
If you lot stay in one place too long, you know you'll root.
I beverage old-growth forest in like h2o. This is the homeland that built united states of america. Hither I walk shoulder to shoulder with history - my history. I am in the presence of something ancient and venerable, perhaps of time itself, its unhurried passing marked by immensity and stolidity, each yr purged past fire, cinched by a band. Here mortality's roving hands grapple with air. I can see my place as human in a natural order more than chiliad, whole, and functional than I've always witnessed, and I am humbled, not frightened, by it. Comforted. It is as if a round tabular array springs upwardly in the cathedral of pines and God graciously pulls out a chair for me, and I no longer accept to worry near what happens to souls."
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Of course this environment is almost completely gone now. Its demise followed the end of the Civil War. In 1883, "a writer in the New York Times" warned the South that they should "protect their forests confronting the lumberers who had destroyed Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota." I was surprised that those states were exploited earlier the Southern ones. I know from personal history that after the South, the big companies expanded to the west declension. From another source I found that "In 1920 Robert A. Long (1850-1934), president of the Long-Bell Lumber Company chose the site across from Kelso at the confluence of the Cowlitz and Columbia rivers, to build "the largest lumber mill in the world" and a new industrial city named Longview." My grandfather was one of the people sent out past Long-Bell to set up this up and my mother was born in Washington Land. My grandmother said they were miserable there and they soon moved dorsum to the South.
Approximately every other affiliate is a sketch of some family unit member or of the author. These are interesting but the best writing is in the chapters on the a item bird, animal, or institute. The family described lived a hard-scrabble life. I did not find the story particularly Southern other than the food they ate. The food that typifies a region is a stiff binding force. Information technology is one of the master reasons my grandmother gave for finding Washington country too strange.
Crackers are looked down on past the more aristocracy classes of Southerners and this family unit was on the everyman rung of the cracker class as they lived in and fabricated their living from a junkyard. The author said at some point she realized she "was a Southerner, a slow, dumb, rednedk hick, a hayseed, inbred and racist, come from povery, condemned to poverty: descendant of Oglethorpe'due south debtor prisioners." I retrieve if y'all read this story you will see a warm, intelligent person dealing admirably with the situation in which she was born; no different than someone brought upwardly in like circumstances anywhere in the country. This book may not make you beloved or desire to be part of the Due south but it should bring information technology dorsum to the realm of ordinary human feel rather than some foreign and inferior 'other'.
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"The landscape that I was built-in to, that owns my body: the uplands and lowlands of southern Georgia," she begins. "Nothing is more beautiful, naught more mysterious, nothing more breathtaking, zero more than surreal" than longleaf pine forests. These forests used to cover at least 85 million acres across the South. Today, fewer than two 1000000 a
Y'ALL. This is one of my favorite books, bar none. It is a memoir, both of Janisse Ray's childhood and of a crucial ecosystem on the brink of extinction."The mural that I was born to, that owns my body: the uplands and lowlands of southern Georgia," she begins. "Nothing is more than beautiful, nothing more than mysterious, zilch more breathtaking, nothing more surreal" than longleaf pine forests. These forests used to cover at least 85 million acres across the S. Today, fewer than 2 million acres remain in varying states of integrity. Merely about 10,000 acres — less than 0.001 percent of the original forests — are untouched. All told, nigh 99 percent of all natural stands are gone.
I grew up in the aforementioned land, not far eastward of Ray. The forests and wild fauna she writes of with such intimate knowledge and grace are my home, too. Her profound love and fear for the futurity for longleaf pine forests felt familiar, and deepened my own feelings. This book is truly exquisite, highlighting the relationship between her rural "Cracker" cultural upbringing and the land in the southern pine forests, and also driving home the responsibleness we take to the ecosystem that nurtured the states. I will exist forever hung upwardly on this passage:
"Sometimes in that location is no leaving, no looking due west for another promised land. We take to blast our shoes to the kitchen floor and unload the burden of our center. We accept to set to the task of repairing the damage washed by and to u.s.a.."
I learned so much nigh the earth of my home from this book. It may take niche appeal since the works Ray describes felt like habitation to me, but I think it would probably hold up as a great read for people outside of southern pine forests. This book is a treasure, and I'yard gonna be returning to it — and fighting for the forests — forever.
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I wanted more than childhood & less ecology. She does a wonderful job describing the disappearing Georgia longleaf pino forests, but I was more interested in stories most Charlie Ray, Clyo, Mutt, and Dell.
Ray'southward father was something of a mechanical genius (reminded me of my own dad) and he ran a junkyard, and could detect annihilation in it - even though it was this vast expanse of land filled with . . . junk. I thoroughly enjoyed how she wrote nearly all of her family unit, from her begetter, her female parent, her grandmothers, her granddad, her brothers, and and so on. I loved reading the parts where she and her brothers would play in junkyard cars, how their imaginations were in overdrive. They played a lot similar my brother and I did. The Rays didn't accept TV, she couldn't wear pants, and she couldn't evidence peel above her elbows or above her knees. (fundamentalist upbringing)
I think what I loved about CRACKER well-nigh was Ray'southward conversational way of writing the capacity that were from her naturalist/environmentalist groundwork. It was interesting to find out about pitcher plants, the savanna, salamanders, red-cockaded woodpeckers, and the myriad of other fascinating species that live in that location. I learned about fire keeping downwardly hardwood growth that destroys this delicate environment. How many long leaf pines at that place used to be, and how many there are at present. (non much) I learned how information technology'due south not right to but establish trees in a row, crowding out the sunlight that'southward needed to sustain plants and animals alike, and many other ways we impact nature without a clue. It was truly eye-opening.
I'grand glad she wrote this book, and I'chiliad glad I read it.
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There were, however, ii incidences of AMAZING WONDERFULNESS in this book.
A. The chapter in which she describes her father'southward depression, institutionalization, and love for his wife. Leafing through the pages, I can't find the passage. I am distressing to not be able to re-experience it today.
B. The two chapters near the very end, entitled "The Kindest Cut" and "Leaving." She writes of sc
I did not similar this book. Information technology had a spanking scene and I tin't overcome a spanking scene. Tooooo much for me to handle.At that place were, however, 2 incidences of Amazing WONDERFULNESS in this book.
A. The chapter in which she describes her male parent'southward depression, institutionalization, and dearest for his wife. Leafing through the pages, I can't find the passage. I am pitiful to not be able to re-feel information technology today.
B. The ii chapters near the very finish, entitled "The Kindest Cut" and "Leaving." She writes of scenes that make me want to walk again in the world, find awe in what's new, and learn who I am myself.
I take now come away from the end of this volume (after and then many months autonomously). It feels good to finish and to look at the sunshine and sky, thinking and reflecting.
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Engagement I read this (guestimated) -- 2001
A beautiful intertwining of the author'southward personal story and the story of the longleaf pino forests. They used to comprehend the south and due east of Georgia for mile after mile, and were decimated for turn a profit and to build the cities of the Northeast. When they went, all the interdependent flora and fauna were decimated, too. A story of loss of those forests that parallels the loss of cypress forests and, I understand, mahogany forests also.Engagement I read this (guestimated) -- 2001
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--Janisse Ray on nature, Ecology of a Cracker Childhood
In Environmental of a Cracker Childhood, Janisse Ray non merely makes y'all notice nature, but reconnects you with nature--not just as your environs, just every bit a deeply embedded function of who you are. As her autobiography, Environmental includes many charming and often uniquely profound "Oblivious, it went well-nigh its business organization without yous, but it was at that place when you needed some gift, a chip of dazzler: it would be waiting for you lot. All you had to do was notice."
--Janisse Ray on nature, Ecology of a Cracker Childhood
In Ecology of a Cracker Childhood, Janisse Ray non but makes you notice nature, but reconnects you with nature--non just every bit your surroundings, but as a deeply embedded part of who y'all are. Equally her autobiography, Ecology includes many charming and often uniquely profound stories of her life, mostly during her formative years. By weaving these tales with her extensive noesis and honey of longleaf pine ecosystems, she creates a narrative where her life blurs with her habitat.
While information technology is autobiographical, it is also more broadly historical. Through her stories of small-scale town diner skirmishes and rescued gopher tortoises, she preserves a large part of the US Southeast'south culture. Tales of her male parent's resourcefulness remind readers that "waste material not, want not" was actually one time a valued American virtue. Stories of her mother'south love, dedication, and unyielding hard work renew appreciation for core values underlying traditional southern roles. In the beautiful stories of childhood imagination and familial dear, more than complex themes on poverty, feminism, and mental illness also surface. Although Ray utilizes fantastical language and imagery, she successfully paints the reality of the lower class in Georgia and the reality of longleaf pine destruction.
Ray's writing on the decline of the longleaf landscape masterfully combines the scientific and the spiritual. She reveals the inner workings of the pine realm—from life cycle of the flatwoods salamander to the regeneration of longleaf from fire. These environmental lessons are written with such beautiful detail and curiosity at the natural world that you most forget you aren't reading a fantasy novel.
While some capacity ran long and some stories probably could take been omitted, the book was a good Sun on the balcony kind of read. I would recommend this volume especially to anyone in the southeast. Reading this autobiography is like learning a hush-hush—y'all'll conduct the story of the longleaf pine with you wherever you go.
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I started the book bewildered by the title. Eventually, everything fabricated sense. Janisse Ray employed a formulaic structure in which one chapter nigh her childhood was succeeded with some other affiliate most Nature - the ecology of the coastal
My father-in-police, an avid reader, institute this book in a used bookstore and was happy almost the find. He had heard of it from a friend a while back. He enjoyed the volume and gave it to united states of america later on reading. "Ecology of a Cracker Childhood" lived up to its reputation.I started the book bewildered past the title. Eventually, everything made sense. Janisse Ray employed a formulaic structure in which one chapter about her babyhood was succeeded with another chapter about Nature - the environmental of the littoral Southern environment where she grew upward - with the longleaf pine being the "main character". Ray'south writing is probably characteristic of her civilisation, straightforward, daring, and passionate, yet frail and gentle as she described her loving family members, the trees and animals of the Due south. She talked about things as they were, completely honest, with both sides of the coin: Her parents, devoted and loving to their children, hardworking and kind people, yet were unmistakenly oldfashioned (she was an active tomboy merely never wore pants until she was 18 years old) because of their time; or the Due south, blessed with the ecological wealth but has been nether merciless destruction, either because of coin, or lack of education, or both. As an immigrant being married to a Southern gentleman, I have been fortunate to witness the people's toughness and kindness, and the wonderful ecosystem. Such qualities were echoed in Ray's book.
Importantly, Ray reminded me of myself in my higher year when I first encountered environmentalism. Her book and experience inspired me to pb a simpler and more sustainable life where nature is taken intendance of considering they accept their own intrinsic values, aside from their instrumental values.
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With that said though, I was a scrap disappointed which is why I but gave it 4 stars. The cover and the reviews etc all gave me the impression that I was going to exist reading about the environmental and demise of the longleaf pine forests of the south...in the form of naturalist writing. Then I was expecting more of a Terry Tempest Williams 'Refuge' blazon book. A fluid mix of life and nature. And while there was
I have to outset this review by saying that this is a adept book and one I'd recommend to others.With that said though, I was a bit disappointed which is why I but gave it 4 stars. The cover and the reviews etc all gave me the impression that I was going to be reading about the ecology and demise of the longleaf pine forests of the south...in the course of naturalist writing. Then I was expecting more of a Terry Tempest Williams 'Refuge' type volume. A fluid mix of life and nature. And while at that place was some ecology in the volume, it seemed to be really disjointed and haphazard in it's placement. Instead, the bulk of the volume was a memoir of growing upward poor in the south. On this topic, the author writes extraordinarily well. Whether your roots are in the south or not, my guess is you'll detect her memories and stories captivating equally I did. Simply I call up that the rest of book...the ecology/history/soul of the forests...could have been more prominent and more organized. And then to me, it fell brusk of what it promised to be...an abet of the southern pine forests.
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I envy her knowledge of flora, fauna and mechanics—yous get specificity in the forests and junkyards. The way she describes the destruction, it's easy to feel like preserving the Southward equally a identify is a lost cause. Consequently, her ability to conjure a (disappearing) landscape made it more upsetting than di
"When we say the South volition rise again nosotros can mean that we will allow the cutover forests to return to their former grandeur and pine plantations to grow wild." If only that's what people meant.I envy her knowledge of flora, brute and mechanics—you get specificity in the forests and junkyards. The way she describes the destruction, information technology's easy to experience like preserving the Due south as a place is a lost cause. Consequently, her power to conjure a (disappearing) landscape fabricated it more upsetting than diverting to read. She wrote with such honey and free energy, however, that her call-to-activity left me hopeful.
Absolutely, I got lost in all the Latin and bird names, simply she kept me interested with the way she described seeing and longing for a Due south that was once there and you can but run into glimpses of today. She talked of it being embedded in her ancestral memory—a very romantic idea that balanced the science. I adore her devotion. I also recollect she makes a great environmental administrator, for those who won't be swayed by her poetry, given her blue-neckband cred.
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And then I did.
Even before
I had been consuming Janisse Ray'south showtime volume, The Ecology of a Cracker Childhood, page by page always since I learned she was coming to speak for an result honoring the president of our conservation organization. This volume is Janisse's introduction to herself and her roots; speaking of her childhood spent in a junkyard in rural Georgia learning to honey the ghosts of the longleaf pine woods. It is not a long book but I don't want to read information technology too fast – I desire to blot information technology.And so I did.
Even before I had finished I understood my president's excitement and I held some in my own belly at the idea that I would get to run across this woman and hear her speak in person. It was fantastic, if y'all have a run a risk to meet her - get!
Read her books and see for yourself if her phonation chimes truthful near what we all agree dear virtually the places nosotros dear. It did for me.
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I felt like it ended without a definitive resolution, often an upshot west
This is a wonderfully written, poetic book about a family and their effect on their land in southern Georgia. I have to say I related a lot, considering her family unit settled around the same time as mine and had a few similarities. Basically, she is grieving the loss of the southern Longleaf Pine forests. My family besides owns timberlands in Alabama, consisting of slash pines sold off to Kimberly-Clark for paper when times were tough.I felt like information technology ended without a definitive resolution, oftentimes an issue with these kinds of books. I also felt similar I needed to know more about the writer. She seems sort of similar a naught or a blank in some ways.
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Since some readers may not be familiar with the expanse, I would recommend that future editions include photographs. They would help clarify, for example, the differences amongst lo
This book is a distressing only necessary reminder of the integral role that longleaf pines play in our region and how devastating cutting them down for timber and turpentine has been. I especially appreciated the sections on their ecological relationship with wiregrass, pitcher plants, ruddy-cockaded woodpeckers, and gopher turtles.Since some readers may not be familiar with the area, I would recommend that future editions include photographs. They would help clarify, for case, the differences among longleaf, loblolly, and slash pines or assist the reader to "run across" the beauty and functionality of a pitcher establish.
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It corresponds with my thoughts when I see people cut down a forest to satisfy a short term demand (such every bit a new automobile). Has good intentions and deep confidence about saving the habitat. I dear her chapter entitled "Clearcut" - "You lot'd better be pretty sure that the cut is absolutely necessary and be at peace with information technology, so yous can explicate it to God, for it's fairly certain he'southward going to question your motives, desire to know if your children are hungry and your oldest boy needs asthma medicine..."
It corresponds with my thoughts when I see people cut down a forest to satisfy a brusk term need (such as a new car). ...more than
Ray has been inducted into the Georgia Writers Hall of Fame and was awarded the Lifetime Achiev
is an award-winning and beloved American writer of nonfiction and poetry. Her book WILD SPECTACLE was chosen by Pam Houston for the Donald L. Jordan Prize in Literary Excellence, which carries a 10K honour. Ray won a Pushcart Prize in 2020 for her essay "The Lonely Ruralist," published in GEORGIA REVIEW.Ray has been inducted into the Georgia Writers Hall of Fame and was awarded the Lifetime Accomplishment Award by the Georgia Writer'southward Association.
Her kickoff book, ECOLOGY OF A CRACKER CHILDHOOD, recounts her experiences growing up in a junkyard, the girl of a poor, white, fundamentalist Christian family. The volume interweaves family history and memoir with natural history writing—specifically, descriptions of the ecology of the vanishing longleaf pine forests that once blanketed the Southern coastal plains. The book won an American Volume Accolade, Southern Book Critics Circle Honour, and Southern Ecology Law Center Award for Outstanding Writing on the Southern Surroundings. Information technology was as well called for the "All Georgia Reading the Same Book" project by the Georgia Center for the Book.
Ray's second book, WILD Carte QUILT recounts her experiences of moving back home to Georgia. Her third book, PINHOOK, tells the story of Pinhook Swamp, the land that connects the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia and Osceola National Forest in Florida.
Drifting INTO DARIEN, published in 2011, describes her experiences on and cognition about the mighty Altamaha River, which runs from middle Georgia to the Atlantic Sea at Darien.
Ray'south poesy collections are A Firm OF BRANCHES and RED LANTERNS. She has contributed to THE BITTER SOUTHERNER, GRAVY, ORION, and many other magazines.
Ray earned an MFA from the University of Montana. She is the daughter of the late Franklin D. and Lee Ada Branch Ray of Baxley, Georgia. She has a son, Silas Ausable, and a daughter, Skye Larkin, and is married to painter Raven Zapatismo Waters.
She lives and works in Georgia.
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