There’s a history living inside us that needs to confirm an instinctual memory of a simpler time. We’ve got to know, and know for sure: without all of our cash-and-steel racket, a world exists that works without us. When the rush and scream of daily life starts to shake up our skulls, we run. To the countryside! To the beaches, the mountains, the forests! Roll out the tents and lace up the hiking boots—it’s about time now, isn’t it? We run for the hills, and they welcome us back.

When you can’t get away, you garden. You people-watch with the eyes of an anthropologist. You visit green-pocket-parks in the city. Some days you’ve got to notice the chicory flowers bursting out by the emergency lane, and you better make a point of it. For our egos, our peace, and our little anxieties, it is good to remember: with or without us, life is all around.

Here I’ll write every Tuesday about the the natural world pushing through the cracks of St. Louis—plants and animals found in and around the city, nearby parks and nature reserves, advice for keeping plants and gardens. These writings will be here to remind you that you are little. They are for those who wish to know better all that moves, those who want to hear about the world we don’t always listen to.