On Being...Day 5

The day after Independence Day...and checking the smallholding for debris, I find this huge cardboard tube smelling of gunpowder and blackened on the end.  I am grateful it's been so damp; it was a year for noise and and flaming wads shooting through the neighborhood, knocking me sideways off my chosen path of peaceful inner journeying.

Loud, unexpected, dangerous, illegal and inconsiderate noise tends to make me cranky as a bear just out of hibernation!

But...the day after is quiet and peaceful and I am beyond grateful...and paying attention.

What do the stones teach me this hot, super-humid day? To hold onto the cool of night as long as possible. To touch the earth.  Even to sweat--and I would not have noticed them had it not been for the debris. 

And had I not noticed the sweating stones by my doorstep, catching and reflecting tree and sky--and me--I would never have seen the patterned, scalloped bone, like infinitesimal fish scales, nor graceful calligraphic lines like an angel's wings...

These are turtle bones, or fish, or bird, or deer...they once contained and supported life; they still sustain the intricate beauty of the miniature, the Plan writ small.

And best of all in learning all this from the stones in Hotei's garden, I rediscover the eyes of a child, delighting in tiny, beautiful miracles of design that God leaves in our path.

"Look!  Look at this!  And this, and this..."


Infinite, worlds within worlds.

It had not rained for two days...this was condensation between the cool earth and the thick, humid air.

Ornate and beautiful turtle bones...

I see a fossilized mermaid's tail, what do you perceive here? (And yes, it's also a turtle bone of some sort, old and weathered...)

The mint is lovely and lush...spearmint is my favorite, tasting of summer...

Peppermint is bold and spicy and a remedy for many ills...

I didn't see the tiny grasshopper till I looked at the photo full size...I've always been drawn to tiny things.

A gift from the garden...a volunteer squash.  We are letting nature surprise us, this year, cheek by jowl with our own planted vegetables.  So far, it's Nature 6, Garden not-so-much, which may speak to us about the concept of allowing.

May the Creator grant the eyes of a child to us all...

A day of remembering, paying attention, listening, looking...Being There, Day 4

On a day when many people go on big family or neighborhood picnics, attend events, rip up and down the lake on speedboats, celebrate Independence Day with light shows and noise, we opted for quiet, hungered for it, immersed ourselves in it.

It was glorious...

...for the most part!

I'd been meaning to draw the other odd bone I'd found near the lake...I see so many fae faces in it, depending on how I look at it.  Isn't that often the case?  I see how artists like Brian Froud might find inspiration here, I certainly do.

Three fae faces in this single artifact...the bottom one looked vaguely porcine to me!  I turned it right side up, and upside down, and there were more each time I looked.
Can you see them?  I know there are probably more still...but the fae often hide if you look at them straight on.

I'd forgotten how much I like sketching with my vintage Sheaffer pen...responsive lines are such a pleasure.

Alas, I seem to have lost the knack of making a flower chain...this is much stemmier than I remember!  Tighter knots perhaps?  Closer to the end?

I knew how, once upon a childhood morning...

Small, slow lives play out beside our own...he was very beautiful and a bit shy. retracting those stalk-like eyes if I startled him.  Perhaps he imagined I couldn't see him if he couldn't see me...so I tried hard not to startle him!

Tiny forests of moss colonize the rocks and make their living beneath our feet.  Reading Robin Wall Kimmerer's Gathering Moss recently, I was amazed again at the complexity of these miniature landscapes, and long for my magnifying glass.

An entirely different kind of moss...this one with a wee spotted beetle I didn't even see at first, till I enlarged the photo...

Tryst Falls was noisy with the raw power of recent flood...but that's the kind of noise that is more energizing than exhausting.

Later, we went to the lake expecting holiday crowds and not planning to stay long...we were delightfully surprised to find only a few of our fellows out soaking up the firework-free quiet.  The loudest noise this late evening was the soft plashing of his paddles and the conversations of geese as they prepared for the coming night.

The recent hard rains exposed more of the  mess left last week by the people with the water balloon party...these were half stuck in the huge mud wallow they left.  

Joseph asked why I felt it was my job to pick thim up (this from the guy who picks up trash and monofiliment on his walks and fishing!)...but it is my job because it is a privilege to restore harmony and beauty, as much as I am able.  (That is not to imply I don't grumble and mutter dire imprecations on their heads, of course!)

I am just sad that no one has taught that reality to so many...this is the only Earth we have.  As they say, there IS no Planet B.

But order and peace restored, I got in one more quick sketch of the lake, and soaked in the welcome quiet.

After the flood...Inner Journeying, Outer Explorations, Day 3

I walked up the Desire Path (as Robert Macfarlane calls these casual foot-maintained paths created by humans and other animals in his book, The Old Ways; A Journey on Foot) to visit the Smallwood after the storm.  All looks well, if sodden.  The wet-weather rivulet sparkles and rushes down our abandoned alley, cutting a new channel as it reaches the open area in imitation of a larger river in flood.

...happily this time it stayed peacably on the east side rather than diverting to our basement; the first year I lived here the sound of rushing water was a new Niagara.  

I love the way the newborn river catches silver light in its tiny turbulence, winking bright between the overhanging leaves.  Belle helps me to inspect the rate of flow...

When I was little, I used to float leaf boats down occasional creeks like this...and a quick check with my Inner Journey guide answered "so what's stopping you, silly?"  Of course I had to try it again. 

I'd forgotten the leaf must be DRY, otherwise it immediately sinks; I'd lost the wisdom of childhood.  Finding a dry leaf in all that rain was a challenge...but we did it, Belle and I...

And then of course had to sketch it in a corner of my journal...

The new garage-sale frog was FULL of water from the downpour...I guess it really WAS a "frog-strangler" as the old farmers around here used to say!

Walking barefoot in the wet is one of life's simple pleasures...

The volunteer mulberry just beyond the bird feeders glistened with rain from crown to root...it looked as though it had been painted with transparent liquid silver.

It reminded me of a lyrical passage from Kevin Hearne's Iron Druid Chronicles: "...we are loved, like all living things that Gaia sustains.  There is poetry in the canopies of forests and in the gentle roll of hills, a song in the wind and a benediction in the kiss of the sun.  There are stories in the chuckle of waters in creeks, and epics told in the tides of oceans.  There are trees...that seem sometimes like they have grown all their lives just to feel the touch of my hand upon their trunks, they are so welcoming to me...." 

And so this mulberry has always been.  I greet it daily, give it my thanks, eat of its fruit and feed it with leaves from my herbal teas...

...each moment of gratitude is a moment of Grace.   

Once more from Kevin Hearne..."you'll feel it in your toes as you walk upon the earth."  And again...
"Walk as though you are kissing the Earth with your feet," said Thich Nhat Hanh.  And so I did, mindfully, full of gratitude and paying attention to each step, ...and if I did not, my knee reminded me! 

Its roots were exposed by the hard rain...who knew they were so multicolored!

Wild grapes I didn't know lived in the Smallwood...

a last flower on the garlic mustard...

The shed tucked away safely in the lush green world...

And back inside before the next rain, my need for fire found expression with a beeswax candle magnified with a quartz crystal...

Moments of Grace indeed.

Wandering Between the Rains...Day 2

An unexpected rain storm necessitated a change of plans...which is really what this is all about, come to think of it.  Response, not plans.  And so I took a fresh juicy peach out onto the covered back porch with my coffee, my journal, and a tiny candle and enjoyed just being.

I've always loved fire and been drawn to it...this morning's rain necessitated a much smaller one!  But the scent of woodsmoke speaks to my soul, and so I found a dry twig to be my primal incense...

The hole-stone I found yesterday became a pendant to remind me of serendipity and exploration...

The wet logs, years old, are home to many things including this slug.  He moved amazingly quickly!  I'd almost lost him by the time I found my camera...

Someone's home is spangled with crystals...Grandmother Spider hides inside, wisely keeping dry.

The oldest logs wear striated Elizabethan ruffles...they feel velvety to the touch.

Boris has been doing yeoman service, directing the torrents away from our foundation...he never fails to make me smile as I brush the leaves and cobwebs from his ears. 

I am not sure why a pool in a stone always makes me think of the Eye of God...

The striped hostas make flowers that droop...they're spangled with rain as well.  Between showers I wandered through our urban wilderness to see what I could see.

It's such a pleasure to have small bits of nature nearby.  One of my first natural history books, long out of print, was called The Local Wilderness, and I love finding it still.  In truth, more now than ever.

Trumpetvine flowers remind me of my grandmother's back garden...I used to wear them on my fingers when I was a child.  Quite festive, really...Dragon Fingers!

Bright leaf shines like a beacon against the sodden soil...

It was a most satisfying day, ending with dinner out with my husband, and, right before bed, a downpour that filled rivers and streams and overran low-lying roads.  I'm very glad we got to the cabin yesterday, because when the long muddy drive is soaked it's hard getting back out!

All is well, all is well.

Life truly IS a journey...first day wanderings.

Sunbeams and woodsmoke...

I have shared bits of this elsewhere, but I believe I'd like to use my blog for a bit more in-depth record, for myself as much as anything...

Yesterday, I began 31 days of mindfulness, paying attention, being there, in nature. Of course I spend much of my time there in any case, but I plan to do so with more awareness, more direct contact. More childlike or primal attention. It may only be 5 minutes a day, some days, but fully, completely THERE--and responsive.  To the moment as much as I can manage.


I will journal about my experience, perhaps sketch, and may share or not, as feels right.  Here in my blog, I'll add bits and pieces, but much will remain private between the pages of my journal.

As I've said elsewhere, I've struggled a bit with focus and feeling rudderless lately, but I do most firmly believe that nature and we are One--we're not sovereign, but an integral part. I have long felt that the Universe is a manifestation of the Creator...everything, not just humans or the Grand Vista, or the things we tend to see as "beautiful," but everything.

I intend to explore that in whatever way presents itself.

Yesterday, Day One, I had intended to go to the river, early...Joseph was off doing Legion duties, and I had the morning to do with as I felt the need. But it was if a voice in my ear said "not intentions, nor plans, but HERE, and NOW..."

I listened.


So here are bits of my first day of mindful inner journeying...a fire on a cool July morning rather than going anwhere to search but right HERE.

The oak green man had resided on my fence for some time...but I only yesterday, this first day, noticed he was anything more than a fallen leaf. 

Oak greenman in my journal...

Little serendipities after the rain...I went to weed the garden and check how it was doing, encouraging and praising as I went along...and what should it do in return but give me a turquoise nugget, just lying on the ground. It's tiny, but it's magic...

The gift of turquoise...I am glad of sharp eyes!

In the afternoon, we took a drive to our old cabin to check on things...I began to fall into old habits of impatience and pressure.  Can we leave now??  Are we ready??   We need to get OUT there, before it rains again!

NOT what was needful, though it was good to see all was well, if rather weedy.  For whatever reason, we didn't stay long...

Safe and sound...

The evening was cool and delightful, and we DID go to the river...Joseph to fish, and me to...be there.  I was entranced by the small stones at my feet, as I so often am...fossils, rocks, pigment stones, hagstones (also called viewing stones or vision stones, sometimes friendship stones--those stones with naturally-occurring holes)...

And of course came home with my pockets full and my field bag heavier than when I started out...

Natural pigments waiting to be used...

Limestone and a horn coral on the left...fossils at center right...

So many tiny lives...millions of years ago, these creatures lived at the bottom of the inland sea.

Corals, brachiopods and more...

I made a small ephemeral cairn or inukshuk to celebrate...it will wash away in the next high water...

And hope that 31 days of re-wilding, exploring my small wilderness, becomes the rest of my life.
Inspired by my friend Diane Perry...we will do this "together," along with my online tribe.