farmer's market

Now for something completely different.

Farmer's Market season has begun in earnest. Wednesday I forgot my troubles and immersed myself in this busy scene. I felt myself slow down in the middle of the bustle and drink in the sights and smells; I willed myself to slow slow slooooww down and just be there.


Oh to shed the cares and stuff of life and just carry everything you need on a bike like this. Load up with vegetables and bread and pedal out to a beautiful spot for a picnic with good friends.


Swimming in color and texture. Shrink down and be a bee, nestle into something soft and brilliant. Swath up an armload of beauty and present it to your lover. Or hand it out, stem by stem, to strangers passing by.


Taste the sweetness of life. Savor every drop and then lick the spoon.



The abundance of Mother Earth is truly a blessing. It has never been more important to acknowledge this. Seeing the world as a place of safety and abundance will reflect itself into our inner life, and again into our personal space.


What will you plant in your inner landscape? Will it be a cool white night garden? Or a flamboyant spread of tangled color and trailing shapes? Maybe a serene herbal spiral to sit and dream in, inhaling healing and majick.


Here's one of nd's favorite veggies. I love asparagus roasted with a little balsamic vinegar, or steamed and then steeped in a great vinagrette. I grew some once, in the faraway past of toddling girls and homebaked bread. Not one spear made it past the garden gate: homegrown asparagus is best consumed the minute you snap it off at the dirtline.


More abundance. Recently I've been preparing cauliflower in a spinoff idea from South Beach Diet: steam until very soft, then smash it up like you're making mashed potatoes. I add butter, salt, pepper, and a little plain yogurt. Turns out I can eat almost an entire head in this fashion.

I like broccoli best raw, or in a stir fry; it tastes yummy cooked with eggs, or cold with cottage cheese and Spike.


Seems a little early for peaches.... ah, California. Sweet blessed breasts of the Goddess. I chose apricots instead this week. Plenty of summer still to come.


What would you preserve in a jar to keep for the winter? I'd try to capture the warm sun on my shoulders during morning yoga on the deck. The sweet earthy smell of forest sponge while hiking up the local trail. The sound of the robin that wakes me up every morning with sweet urgency. The sight of my sweet five year old mastering the jumprope: 41, 42, 43, 44, 45....


Vibrant beauty is all around us. Goddess whispers: slow, slow, slowly. Look around. Really see. Don't miss a minute, for tomorrow it is all gone, all gone.


Dance, dance, to the rhythm of life. It is pulsing and pounding all around you. Listen to your inner beat, slow it down, there's no hurry. Dance and dance and hug your children. Love yourself like there's no tomorrow.

phoenix

Oh yeah, here's how I feel. Thank you Goddess. We are all OK. Thank you to all who prayed and sent protection energy.

The fire came within 200 yards. The weather changed and we were spared.

Read a dramatic version here. Warning: bring Kleenex.

fire

6 a.m. Tuesday morning we awoke to this.

I stood on the deck for a long time. My brain could not register the reality. Oh no. Oh no.


After going about our normal routine for awhile it became apparent. Our forest was on fire.

I ran upstairs and began walking in circles. Disbelief.

What do you take with you when it's time to go forever?
What must stay, never to be seen again?

It was a true test of strength. I grounded and centered and asked the Goddess: Please show me what to do.

I walked to my car. It was packed up for recycling. Calmly I opened the back and threw the contents into the carport.

I went back upstairs and began to pack.

What do you take with you knowing it will be all that you have?
What must stay, never to be yours again?

My spinning wheel, and remaining fiber. Four skeins of sock yarn.
My tarot decks, Willendorf goddess, athame, journals, collage deck and collage journals.
The big box of pictures, thankfully organized into albums a few months back.
The birth certificates, marriage license, teaching credential, receipts for the appliances.
All my jewelry.
One third of my clothes.
One third of my toiletries.

Simplify, simplify.






I stuffed it all in the car. Grabbed the video camera and started recording the contents of our house. Commentating as tears ran fast: Here's our furniture. Here are the antiques. Here's our TV. Here's the living room, the bedrooms, the kitchen, the bath. Here's my clawfoot tub where our daughter was born.


Nd hitched up the trailer. Forty minutes of loading animals, chasing chickens and stuffing them into a cage. Grab a bail of hay. Go back in for the camera, the iPod, a radio, a flashlight.

What will go?
What must stay?

It was time. Our neighbor joined us in the caravan down the mountain. When could we return? What would we find?

Simplify, simplify. Pray and pray some more. Ground. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

buzzard lagoon

Whenever I have to give someone my address for some reason, especially over the phone, I always get a double-take when I say I live on Buzzard Lagoon Road. "Yes, that's right, two words like it sounds."


Oh yeah it's a real lagoon. The path on the way to it is dotted with various lovely wildlife. The buzzards are a given of course. The wild iris are a nice surprise.


They are copious but, like most irises, don't last well in a vase.

And just around the corner...


It's not lovely, but it is an important water source for many creatures in the forest. If we are lucky we can see their footprints. Lots of coyote, deer, pigs, occasional cougar. My dog Whoopie loves to swim here...he's part Airedale, a breed created to retrieve otters way back when.


It's a magical spot, and we are so blessed to live just a short hike away. With all the hot weather lately we were relieved to find it full and thriving this weekend, teeming with salamanders and mosquito fish. We picked up a few bottles and cans from the (bad!) motorcyclists who, despite the cement pilons and local laws, persist in using it as their personal playground.

We do too, but our footprints stay light. Live light!

beltane

This past weekend I celebrated Beltane on a retreat for womyn recovering and reclaiming. Recovering from the effects of the patriarchy. Reclaiming our power in a world aimed at marginalizing womyn and making them feel less than. I am living in that world. We all are.

We danced the Wheel of Life around the maypole, an ancient symbol of joining male and female energies in working together to create a new world, whole and complete and balanced.


My beloved mentor witch and powerful priestess, Mama Silverwitch, creates these incredible dreamcatchers. They are magical and guaranteed to filter out the nightmares.



The Beltane altar is dressed to represent each woman present. We circle around to create magic and become the change we wish to see in the world. Divination is part of the process; here you can see Goddess cards that reveal our paths and speak to us of powers yet untapped.


Here is the yurt where we slept, for two nights. Well heated with a wood stove and quite cozy on futons. No sound but the soft sound of snoring sisters, until the birds awoke us. My first ritual each morning was to jump in the hot tub overlooking the forested valley below. Such luxury!


Here in the kitchen we gathered for food, lively conversation, and more ritual. The bonds of sisterhood grew strong as we met with minds and hearts and joined together in our quest of wholeness.

Blessed be! How did you spend Beltane?