For more than 20 years, I have hiked at a nature preserve here in my town. Its criss-crossing trails allow for easy walks around a pond and through the forest, and its 800 acres of open space provide for quiet contemplation, easy escape, and frequent inspiration.
This was the place that inspired my very early nature writing which became my first book Look Up! Musing on the Nature of Mindfulness. And it sparked a re-connection with being out in nature, and a feeling of companionship with it and its creatures that has fed my writing ever since.
It’s fed my spirit, too. It’s where I meditate, where I talk to god. On peaceful, early morning walks, I often find myself in quiet conversation with kindred spirits like Henry David Thoreau, Mary Oliver, and Emily Dickinson.
On a recent walk, I found myself thinking about Sue Holloway. Sue was a woman of the woods and a poet, too. She loved swans and butterflies. And she spent countless hours along the trails at the same nature preserve.
Sue was an adjunct professor in Ecofeminist Writing at Southern Connecticut State University in New Haven, Connecticut. She was a member of the Swan Society and the Orion Grassroots Network.
Sue wrote a “Back to Earth” column for four Connecticut newspapers, and a “Woman with Spirit” column for Woman Magazine. Her editorials, photo features, articles, and poetry appeared in numerous publications, newspapers, and anthologies including Heart Beat of New England: An Anthology of Contemporary Nature Poetry. Sue published several books as well: A Community of Young Poets, Artemis’ Arrow, and Swan in the Grail.
Her writing, as noted by one online biography, “traced themes of human intimacy and subjectivity with the rest of creation. Her intent was to promote affiliation, compassion, tolerance, and peace among people and among humans and creatures.”
Thomas Berry, the renowned visionary thinker who explored humanity’s relationship to the earth and the universe, said of Sue: “It’s such a joy to come across someone who understands…The creatures in the surrounding world are all gracious companions on our great journey.”
She understood that deeply, as shown not only in her teaching and her writing, but in her actions, as well.
When a local conservation group organized a controlled burn of a meadow to thwart invasive weeds, despite the presence of animals, birds, and insects, Sue passionately resigned from its board, terminated her membership, and never looked back.
I was considering Sue Holloway and her enthusiastic stance recently, as I drove into the preserve I have considered sacred space all these years. There, along a pristine arc of the pond, a new gravel path had been bulldozed into place. A quarter mile of stone and boulder stanchions in the shadowy overlook where turtles once laid eggs and herons would land to rest.
As I walked the familiar paths that morning — the words of a scathing protest letter forming in my mind, ideas for a clandestine remediation — I thought about Sue and what she might think about the new walkway. I wondered what she should think about all of the changes in this special place where we both found solace.
What would she think of the increase in visitors who leave behind trash and bags full of dog poop, who hang Christmas decorations in the woods and tuck painted rocks into nooks and crannies, who toss food waste and rotting piles of birdseed along the trail?
What would she think of the infrastructure needed to support the increase in traffic — the fabricated bridges in place of stepping stones and corduroy roads, the bulldozed woods road now 10 feet wide, the loose gravel tossed liberally atop muddy patches, the multitude of trail blazes hammered deep into bark?
How would she feel walking the trails forever changed by the microburst that destroyed the forest canopy, the rocky arid paths, the increase of invasive plants? The stark evidence of climate change, the insects and tree diseases?
As I walked, I wondered what protest could be loud enough for all of that? What words, what actions, what effort could ever, ever turn the tide?
“I urge each reader to make an informed choice about the destiny of these creatures, for it also defines ourselves.” — Sue Holloway
“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” — Matthew 7:12 (NOAB)
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Sue Holloway’s book Swan in the Grail can be borrowed from the Blackstone Memorial Library in Branford and found online to purchase. Many of her photographs can be found on the website All Creatures. Here are links to some of her articles:
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Essay and photo ©2025, Jen Payne
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