A Hearthside Review

I watched Dare to Be Wild: The Mary Reynolds Story on Prime over two days — January 28 and 29, 2026 — the viewing broken gently by the rhythms of caring for a baby. In a way, that felt fitting. This is a story about tending what is small, trusting growth, and honoring beginnings.

Early in the film, a line settles into the heart and refuses to leave:

“Given the chance, nature will always come back to us.
We can protect what is left and recreate what is lost.
Imagine if you could change the world just a little bit.
I began by saving a seed.”

That idea — the seed — opened a door for me. It carried me straight into genealogy, into lineage, into the understanding that we are all connected not only to one another, but to the land itself. Our ancestors lived close to wilderness. Life was hard, yes — but no era has ever been entirely easy or entirely cruel. There has always been rhythm. Season. Weather. Flow.

Watching Mary as a child among the stones and meadows of Ireland, I felt something deeply familiar awaken. As I closed my eyes, I could walk those Irish fields — and at the same time, I was in Northern California. Sometimes among the redwoods of the coastal range. Sometimes higher, in the Sierra Nevada, among pine, cedar, and white bark.

I could hear the breeze in the leaves — a sound more melodious to my soul than any man-made music, though I love that too. The music of nature reaches me differently. More quietly. More completely.

That love was given to me by my father and his parents. Once I was old enough to drive, on the hardest days, I would find myself beside a river — opening my heart, letting the current cleanse and steady what felt broken. To think that my ancestors lived directly in touch with the wild — free-form, self-creating beauty in service of life — makes our modern striving feel strangely thin.

Long before artificial intelligence, we began living artificial lives.

We built cities. We chased more than we needed. And little by little, we eroded the gifts the earth, sea, and sky offered freely.

Mary Reynolds’ story is not about conquering nature. It is about listening to it. About blending structure with wildness — not forcing compatibility, but discovering it. Determination without aggression. Vision without domination.

Even her work in Ethiopia — coaxing life from what appears desolate — carries that same message: restoration is possible.

I am one seed.
My daughter is another.
My granddaughter is another still.

But when we gather, there are many seeds.

It doesn’t require money to begin. Find a wild place. Close your eyes. Turn in slow circles. You will feel it — freedom — no matter your age. No one can own your soul. Connected to the earth, you are never alone.

To me, wild does not mean reckless.
It means natural.
Unrestrained.
Allowed to become what it was meant to be.

I loved this film — not just for its beauty, but for its truth. It reminds us that if we love something deeply enough — a place, a pursuit, a lineage — determination will guide us home.

And home, I am learning, has always been rooted in the wild.