Sparkling Lotus Ink

today is a hush of deeper greening

Yesterday was a no camera day in which I was able to move my body gently and rest it in appropriate ratio and measure.  Today I woke after five deep sleeping hours.  Stayed up late because fibro is like that sometimes and also to wait for the predicted rainfall between midnight and one.  Wanted to see how hard the rain would fall.  The basement seedlings are fully hardened off and ready for planting in terms of dramatically vacillating temperature/full sun exposure but they've had zero rain/wind experience.  

The rain was gentle.  I stood inside J's office looking through the french doors with the overhead deck light on for a moment quick enough to prevent waking T who sleeps just beneath the blaring light's placement. It was enough to see the seedlings would get their first real natural soaking.  That's an important first experience for them.  I feel it enlivens their natural intelligence at a level that becomes more individualized and richly encoded via collectively shared experience.

  My gardenia bush was right on the other side of the glass.  Just after I turned off the light I stood in the dark with my forehead and palms against the glass panes in the door.  This plant and I have spent 20 plus years together.  I could feel her leaves thickening and growing glossier.  Their leaf-green color  darkening.  Water beading for graceful distillation within the upturned leaves.  I smiled and turned towards sleep in which I dreamed of her flowers.  

The dreams, though consciously un-recalled, insure my perspective is overwritten by the gardenia flower medicine spirit:  lightened awareness in mind and intention.  Regenerated and purified soul & spirit.  Yes.  It's one of my favorite vibrational signatures.  Known to some who read here as a single essence - to others within the blend Sight Unseen.

Not-bothering J during his work-related portion of the day - I stepped outside to be greeted by Mama mewing with a note of rebuke atop the lower deck's picnic table.  She was waiting for our shared morning inspection tour.  Usually I'm ready an hour or so earlier.  

***

above is a tree coming to life on our watch.   A dogwood I'm currently unable to locate in my tree ID link cache.  So many are from sites long gone.  Perhaps someone knows and will refresh my memory.  We have a few of this species that I'm encouraging to settle into the spaces where they've appeared.

The walk down to the stream from the back dooryard is fairly steep.  New trees grow at a 45 degree angle that eventually follows their strongest nature and sense of rooted gravity.

Birds are by now fully nested and thus situated for their summer family life to come.  Wild rose canes we missed in earlier sweeps won't be eradicated until the year round wrens etc. have safely situated elsewhere in later autumn.  Carrion vine I pull up whenever I see it.  Pulled up a youngish vine with a very long root just before I reached the bridge.  Mama prefers to sit at the rim of the incline and observe my navigations from a level-footed perspective.

I'll still be able to pull some vinca closest to the bridge.  But most of that will also have to wait for later autumn.   Each day it gets harder to come down the slope and enter this landscape within the larger place and think about things like responsible land stewardship.  My gardenia dreams already had my mind dropped into a calm and glowing awareness of collective Earthstar energy.  As the greening elementals and rising life force of everything from the stream bed to the rocks envelope all layers of our carbon form(s) it is an invitation for ceremonial and experiential laying-down of those forms.  It is a time frame close enough to my birth to feel myself beginning to steep in awareness  - to re-fit myself within the pure essence of human spirit as I most organically embody it.  And then to feel my spirit take a soft leap beyond that.  I feel a glimmer of starseed formation.  The particles of pure light and cosmic life force/energetic essence I contain.

co-mingling.  knowing exactly what peace and co-operative alliance feels, sounds, smells, and tastes like.  A microcosm of inter-mingled life-forms co-creating abundant pockets of nourishment and mystery.

The water's continuing to move in a steady way but there's far less of it.   I can get lost in the slow steadiness of its path through the rocks and plants.  This is an excellent spot to amplify the giving and nourishing practice of gratitude.

In the next small chunk of time we must commence scything the violet colonies, dandelions, etc. in order to have a clear view of the pond edges and, hence, Snappy.  After a day of ongoing study I see the creature isn't really any bigger than it was last fall.  Upon first sighting both this spring and last my brain registered a much larger animal.  From formative memory and also because that's the way my neurology encoded earliest life danger-trauma.  It doesn't have to be a familiar danger it just has to represent legit threat.   When it is legit everything about it mushrooms in size and scope-of-threat. 

all the more reason to keep the ground around the pond tended to.  This area is the green world's energetic epicenter.  Every year we cut the violets to keep the area less attractive to ticks.  But I like to wait until this later point in spring so that the hosts of flower have had their full unhurried chance to sing in unison right here in this lodestone of life and regeneration.

The massive wild rose warren above has sheltered many generations of various wrens and tiny warblers.  There's another at the edge of the field and a third in a place we always mean to cut back but, as per usual, other stuff took precedence.  I'm not-so-secretly pleased.  That particular warren yields fledglings who get all their earliest flying instruction at the edge of our top deck and the foundation rhodies around the corner of the house.  They fly from the rhodies to the maple branches beyond.  They fly from there to the electric wires and back down to their starting point on the railing of the top deck. 

The lessons coincide with the point in late summer when my studio is intolerably hot during the day.  It's sweet compensation to sit with watercolors - quietly exploring color until the excited noises of wren fledglings changes the script completely.  I turn slowly enough to be soundless on the other side of our dining room's front windows.  They can hear through the screens.  Their mother is stationed closer to the ground in a strong crotch of the rhodie.  Her instructions are unmistakable to mothers everywhere.  be careful.  remember what I told you.  I don't care what your brother/sister/the other children are doing you focus on what you're doing.  Now do it again. be careful.  REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU!!!

I treasure those weeks of the year and smile wide to spend these moments capturing memory into words.  For the next few months the green backdrop of these images shelter and amplify all manner of bird drama and behavior.    I love nearly all of them equally but my favorite birds who share their lives with ours are the catbirds, the goldfinches, and the hummingbirds.

A wealth of sweet rocket - all descended from the single surving seedling I brought from the old place - are now in bloom at the edge of the field.  Note in the background the self-seeded plant growing through the center of the gooseberry bush.

On the afternoon and evening when I spotted J's use of the augur we stayed out late enough to catch the first wave of blooms release their scent to the cooler air.  I can now say with authority that every third year there's a blast of sweet rockets blooming as far as their dispersal radius allows.  It's a very wonderful thing to see - an accepted and beneficial introduction to the landscape. 

[while writing this I heard the season's first nearby calls of the peregrine falcon who spends much of their summer and autumn time in the part of our land where we never go.  The falcon is a signal of constancy amidst humanity's state of devolving chaos.  Have been considering what I seek in place of anything my brain conjures for the word normalcy.   Rather than replacing various aspects of what the word must come to mean why not change the word I use for what-is.  Especially in the context of what-is it about tangible reality that holds the most value for me?

Constancy.  That's my word for what I most need, seek, and intend to build/grow/dream into my life, home, and this place.]

Didn't have gloves so I pulled only a few straggly clumps of goldenrod.  Picked out a massive number of burdock sprouts.   Looked around a lot and tried to envision the fence in place.

The whiskey barrel above contains assorted beets.  The stone in Mama's direct background used to mark the ground just beyond the original tilled bed.  Now it's a good 10 to 12 feet within the enclosure we're creating.  J took a day off and then went out yesterday afternoon to sink posts for the two sides with augured holes.  Then he dug holes and sunk posts for a bit of the third side.  Just up to the first gate post.  I saw the accomplishment around 6:30 in the evening with a great deal of surprised admiration. He was all oh yeah this was the goal for the day but it didn't make his goal's successful accomplishment any less amazing to me. 

It wasn't simply the physical task breakdown of the day's effort bringing our intentions closer to fruition.  It was the vision behind the way he'd tilled and planned the expansion's shape and how the fence would be shaped beyond the new beds.  He'd explained - oftentimes right on location while gesturing helpfully but I don't see beyond what's-there on the same wavelength.   In these moments I do what he does when we stand in the same general space and I'm the one explaining and gesturing.  Reeling off plant names left and right - trees and bushes too as the gestures grow wider in scope:

Nod.  put together words like oh yeah uh-huh sure.  I can almost see it. 

He has discovered post extensions via a buddy.  So that's how we're fixin' to solve the issue with the metal post lengths.  The wooden posts are taller to begin with.   All the same, thanks to Jamie's comment we're considering ways we might baffle below ground.  Burying in a deepish trough some of the left-behind scraps of wire fencing that isn't as sturdy but could be tied together in doubled panels.  My vote is to wait and see what, precisely, breaches the perimeter.  But I have ideas.

light & green

on Sunday I spent an entirely pleasant few hours sitting in a camp chair with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones.  spent a bit of time looking around and breathing deeply.  Snapping pictures from time to time but mostly I was spotting for J while he did this:

and this

and also this

With no prior experience and only a variety of you-tube videos for guidance an early learning mistake was the best of all way-showers.  J had to dig the augur out manually.  That gave me time to take pictures of places I love to document as they flow towards full leafing.

Hickories are the last to leaf.  and also one of the most beautiful unfurling ballets branch-to-branch.

The familiar view expands with fresh life.

earlier in the day (at 7:30 a.m.) I set-out a bowl with three Iris flowers. 

Here's the bowl at its alchemical mid-point.  This is one of the most radiant and light soaked mother stocks I've had the honor of shaking to life.  It's astounding to me what's been unfolding bowl by bowl.  The summer season hasn't started and I've already harvested 11 essences. 

***

On Monday we were meant to finish getting the fence post holes augured.  Instead I spiked a fever and then had a most un-pretty meltdown due to a debilitating fibromyalgia flare-up that refused to let me push through it to the other side is how I think of it.  I've had three flare-ups in the past two weeks.  Feels like an entirely lateral shift from fleeting but mercilessly potent anxiety attacks of the previous few weeks. 

J was okay about the tool going back with having only used it one day of the two he'd planned.  Said using the powerful machine the day before 'took a toll' and as a result he was fine with the zen of digging all the rest of the holes - save one that will be difficult.  There may be more problem-soiving needed between us as a result.

Look how she's growing!   I will try to get a better shot of the branch canes which are hugely attractive to me.  Kind of like bamboo at this stage.  Spent yesterday doing nothing but read The Year of the Flood, plan what I hoped to be able to accomplish today in the outside world (I did), and watering the host of seedlings pictured below.  Fall asleep about 6:30 in the evening.  Slept through until 5:30.  Got up and walked around just to see how my joints felt once in motion.  I felt at 60% capacity and trusted I would renew even more energy and cellular nurturing over the coming days. 

Right now I am accepting that part of what's involved in getting back into physical balance will involve re-setting my weird classic-teenage biorhythms. My physical/mechanical body had an ongoing conversation with both my soul and critical thinking brain.  By day's end I'd replaced grim what if this means that and then that and that and that with a sense of optimism.  Because:

Everything from my basement greenhouse is happy and we are in the throes of planting a little here and there.  This evening J and I transplanted three clumps of red bee balm from the very edge of the transplant bed.  It's being pushed out of the garden by a ground-cover(ing) veronica that ran wild at the old place.  I did not bring any here on purpose!  Took five years to appear and since then everything else is being pushed farther and farther into the grass.  I worried the three bee balm colonies we ultimately relocated would be destroyed or seriously maimed by the fence process. 

Just before twilight J dug troughs roughly a third deeper than necessary.  I added lobster compost and J chopped it in the soil below the trough then remixed after adding the dug-up soil.  We planted the first two with equal measure of care and firmness.    As we worked J made ongoing note of the soil's superb condition.  How free of root pieces and little stones it was.  When we got to the last chosen planting site the soil was so impeccable he said

you weren't fucking around.

allowing myself a shy quiet moment of pride I then felt it was important to provide context.  I pointed down at the soil and said

this was the day we found out T needed a biopsy.

We planted that clump extra tenderly. 

The waxing crescent moon of this evening was fantabulous

yesterday & today

Clearly the biggest news of late is the reappearance of Snappy.   My first sighting occurred on this same date last year.  Recall my grandmother's Way of driving me to contemplate snapping turtles to help myself drop down into a quieter center of personal gravity.   Knew instinctively what I was looking at  there on a rock ringing the frog pond and yet hoped to be wrong about the species.  Snappy was fairly tiny at this time last year and s/he's still pretty small.   Between 5 and 6 inches.   In the interim everything about the creature has grown into its cellular etching, natural form, and patterning.  Like all turtles this is a very well designed creature. Plus, of course, it bites to devastating degree.  J and I were both hoping s/he'd moved on at nature's urging.  But. Realistically that was two people hoping there'd be no need to deal with yet another problematic Thing just now.  Why on earth would s/he move on when s/he has a pond stuffed to its gills with plump tadpoles.  there's a lot to Snappy's story and the amount of time/thought/reluctant turning to heart space I've put into the situation. 

Saw Snappy for the first time yesterday when I was on my way out to the firepit to process two essence bowls.  one joins my flower & stone roster: aquamarine and celandine.  that was planned.  Once I'd set down the bowl I looked at the self-resurrecting (deer systematically eat it down to bare earth later in the season when they take to bedding down in that corner of the field) strawberry patch.  Collecting flowers in the bowl brought open-crown hyper-realism to my awareness of the individual blooms.  I'd never fully noticed the perfect green pentacles formed by the sepals' frame of sparkling white flowers!

Strawberry's flower medicine spirit was an enveloping mantle of good cheer.  Simmering just below the walking-around crust of what the day contained.  I felt it rise and caught a few breaths to comprehend what the experience was teaching me.  Any plant or other form of sentience can do this.  Our particular species is probably the slowest learner to be found - but still.  I was enveloped by Strawberry's healing signature and the organic nature of its medicine spirit.    I have no prior experience with something so spontaneous, complete, and fluid.  Strawberry entered my senses and enveloped every part of me with ease and confident optimism.

I was invited to linger within my collection process - to treat this specific experience like a spiritual cleanse and soulful picnic.    And so I jumped into a whole other way of being.  Instead of monomaniacal focus on The Process and its undeviating Procedure I took off my shoes and socks.   Used a set of the filters from the aqua/celandine bowl to saturate the soles of my feet  until I felt a tingling gratitude for the nourishment.  took the next filter and moved into the urge to swipe it from my forehead to belly.  It was the most relaxed and organically meaningful experience of my week so far. 

Rubbed the strawberry filters on primary and secondary heart chakras front and back.  Then an upward swipe from heart to crown.  

Later in the evening my much anticipated order of Blue Vervain/Verbena hasta arrived via Fed Ex.  The plants were in transit for two days and are still un-kinking themselves on the back deck.  Had originally planned to get nine then dropped back on both expectations and plans in the wake of  T needing the biopsy followed almost immediately by J's layoff.  Will plant in two groups of three or three groups of two.  Probably the first.  Hope for enough seedlings to take hold so I can raise them as the third group I originally envisioned.

Here's a lovely( 4:13 minutes) blue vervain primer from radiant bee loving Deb Soule.

Read through the company's unpacking/further acclimation info.   I've only ordered live plants once before - from this same company in the wake of their annual seasonal clearance sale.  I remember being impressed and grateful for the careful packaging - as I was this time.  But based on the size of the plants I received previously I'd imagined the six above would be roughly half the size and age they are.  These are very well established plants.  I know where I'm planting them but first they need some days to acclimate and harden off.  They're joined on the top deck by the basement seedlings.

The picture above documents my 2020 'nurture babies' having their third day on the deck.  It's their first experience with dappled morning sun.  Am leaving them outside for progressively longer periods of time.  They still need protection from wind and rain in addition to the shock of NE night temps.

This morning I got up early.  Motivated myself in roughly a tenth of the time that's become my hunkered-down slow poke mode-of-choice.  Was determined to get the shallot sets in the ground - plus do some other field-based chores - before the sun lost its cooling slant from the east.  Planted ten rows of 5 sets.  Have a means to safely and effectively share the overage that thrills me in its simplicity and the organic way the opportunity/connection came together. Once I'd hustled myself out I took my mindful-mode time getting things in the ground.  Was deeply appreciative of J's level of care in the removal of thickly matted grass clumps and stones of all shapes.   And the careful way he'd mixed in topsoil so all I had to do was add rows of lobster compost and be equally careful mixing everything together.  Enjoyed rattling over this year's shallot site so much that I walked through the whole garden in various configurations while rattling.  Figuring out where the tramped-down pathways will be once the fence is up.

You are asserting yourself.  We welcome you as one.

Same acknowledgement and encouragement as the other day.

My first layer of clearing effort has now reached a point I wasn't sure I'd be able to achieve. Now I need to put muscle into eradicating some of the wild pea vines that are a story unto themselves.   My plan is to get as much clear soil as I can - in patches here and there if need be - in order to broadcast amaranth with deliberately placed clusters of sunflowers.  A sunflower house is too much fussy work for all the other Things.  But I'll raise just as much joy as possible growing bird food for the many different species who live here ringing the field with their songs and activities.

a shadow-selfie from yesterday's energetic picnic at the fire pit.  love the way my hat's shadow makes me look like a pumpkin head.

everything IS illuminated

pics taken at four different times over the course of two days.

Yesterday I weeded, re-topsoiled, and thoroughly amended a whiskey barrel in which I'll grow beets. I got a mixed variety packet because mixing varieties has led to family favorite side dishes.  Today I did the same with two whiskey barrels in which I'll grow carrots and finocchio.  J's been in the field a lot doing a second round of rototilling.  Tomorrow I'll seed two of the whiskey barrels and plant shallots in a bed he amended with the lobster casting soil conditioner and two bags of top soil.   It's late to put them in but I've been as late as the first week in June and still managed to reap a full year's harvest.  I find they do pretty well provided the soil's still cold enough to hold the night temperature for at least half the day. 

***

Today I had a responsibly quick visit with a favorite local friend.  Haven't seen her in person for upwards of a two and a half months.   The garden-oriented place where she works has set up online shopping and I timed my pick-up around when she was there and free to take five minutes.   We spoke of what was good and whole for both of us but also spoke of exhaustion and its many derivations.  We laughed.  Behind our masks we were both smiling.  I brought home thyme, rosemary and the last sage plant in stock.  And If I'm honest - this is the first time I've been out in the larger world that I wasn't incredibly saddened by all the many things there are to be saddened about/over in these ever-shifting days. It's pretty much the only time in a bit over two months that I've done something containing a social component as opposed to staying rigorously task-oriented and steeped in the nobody must linger vibe.   Lingering for laughter and traded confidences is the part of my former experience I've missed the most and the thing about my personal i-me-mine aspects that leaves me feeling most out of whack.  

And so I didn't think/contextualize about anything much - I was just in that moment socializing.  The masks didn't matter or in any way infringe on a single one of our combined Liberties & Freedoms.  It was sunny and warm enough if we stuck to the sun and the wind wasn't blowing.  Also had a chance to suss out the shape of this year's garden there in a different yet utterly familiar garden world.  The person who fulfilled my order was worried I didn't know much about plants or I never would have ordered three thymes.   My friend was asked to make sure I understood it spread farther and wider the happiest it was.  Nobody else could conceive it was true I knew quite a lot about plants and yet ordered 3 Thymes. We laughed and laughed about that  (I told you THREE THYMES now she isn't kidding when she says she was raised in a garden) and then pivoted back to our evolving days.

*** 

J also socially distance socialized today and arrived home with four generous bags of well rotted horse manure.  His friend has a connection.  They had it in the works for a week or so but J didn't want to raise my excitement level before the transaction was complete.  This is an invaluable development given all the newly tilled space we have to amend.  

***

Some of the pictures above were taken yesterday evening.  The sun came out just in time to cast that magical glow that steps everything out of time and space itself.    The last two pictures were taken yesterday morning about half an hour after it stopped raining.  Other pictures are from today in both morning and afternoon.

Tomorrow I'm turning off the heat mats under the plants in the basement.  Some, that have had two weeks without under-heating, will be moved upstairs to begin their hardening off process on the top deck.  This transition involves getting them situated in their transplant pots tonight and/or tomorrow morning.   There's a very beautiful co-creative wind at my back and I'm eternally grateful for that in these unsettled and unsettling times.

Namaste

 

here we go !!!

Day before yesterday was downright hot and the air quality throughout the county was afloat with many kinds of pollen.  I chose not to participate beyond a few cursory inspection tours of the garden beds closest to the house.  I'm thus declaring yesterday to be our first true day of Spring's greener beckoning magical phase.   Was in and out any number of times - listening to the landscape and allowing myself to be mesmerized by various specific plants and trees.  Last night there was a powerful micro-burst of rain and LOUDLY howling wind laced with a great deal thunder and lightning.  Many windows were open at the time and I had to rush to shut them.  J had fallen asleep upstairs and woke to hear the howling wind and rain that sounded like birdshot being fired through every portion of the sky.  He can sleep through a lot but not a wind like that.  He closed up our bedroom and met me in the doorway of the third bedroom/family lounge.  It was a northern wind and the rain had pelted into the room sideways for the ten minutes or so I was rushing around shutting up the downstairs.  I thought he'd be virgo-dismayed by the wet woodwork, rug, and chair but he only grinned and said isn't it wild?

Although I chose the evolving sanctuary garden for the lede image - it's not the way my Outside day began.  I went out the front door "just for a couple of minutes" and beelined down the sloping lawn to the yellow toad lily.  Cleaned her off and took a better picture for jude to find when she ventures by.  I was lavishly admiring as I worked,.  Seemed to receive confirmation of my hunch the plant would like to be divided in the fall.

Walked back to the house but then suddenly turned right and headed around it to discover the solomon seal buds have begun to open.  Made note of where I want to continue consolidating the forsythia with more incisive pruning.

Also checked on the Japanese Spikenard we put in last year.  It was one of those plants that just pulled on me like a tractor beam when we first got out of the car at our favorite nursery out in Amherst.   Once I'd made my wandering way to the source of strong beckoning energy I picked up the pot and hugged it close.  J kept asking if I wanted him to carry it but I just kept hugging and saying I was fine.  When we got home I set the pot right where it seemed destined to live.  

The location is a little too sunny for it to keep its leaf color.  I thought about moving it - mentioned the possibility to the plant and then about a week later I approached with the intention of reading the signs of its response.  The roots were FIRM and unyielding.  I'm staying.  I live here now.  And so I promised it improved conditions.  Consulted J. a few days back and in response he cut some leftover lattice to the size of the porch length behind the plant.  Today he's giving the swiftly actualized shade-aid a few coats of paint to match similar lattice at the bottom of the porch.  The shade-aid can be added or subtracted at any time of day.  Some experimenting will be involved but I'm grateful he had a much simpler solution than something I haphazardly described based on the construction of a telescoping shelf in the refrigerator.

This jack-in-the-pulpit is growing out of the enormous rock I introduced here.  Jude said the sense of Spring holds and even depends on the memory of winter.  I thought that was both an eloquent and elegant way of expressing my own sense of time, life, and this particular day's feeling tone.  Note off to the left a stray glimpse of carrion vine growing there on the rock.   It's been eradicated.   Took this picture on my second walk outside and removed the vine on my fourth.  It's been that sort of day - in and out and in and then back out again.  J's commencing to cut the grass so I thought I'd sit still and create this virtual walk. 

Canadian anemone abound at the edges of woods and on the 'far' stream bank.  The colonies sprinkled at the edges of paths and here and there in the woods spark joy for me - this is another friend since childhood.  The little cluster is nestled between roots of the maple that gave flowers to an essence bowl earlier this year.

This is the first garden you'd meet on the other side of the hemlock-lined path at the western edge of the field.  It used to be two distinct beds but over time they've become joined by colonies of milkweed and goldenrod.   Am introducing it because I've decided to document my reclamation of the bed.  It officially began today but for now I most want to share this:

A self-seeded tableau of green magic making under the gooseberry bush.  a Sweet Rocket plant seeded directly in its center and she is attended by several self-sown yellow foxgloves.  They are stalwart and certain of their Place here.   They haven't exactly rebuked my relocation plans but have made clear their intention to stay as they are.  And so I looked for ways to make their habitat more welcoming and attractive.    Today I began weeding in this spot for the first time in four or five years.  It's a space I love and always mean to [at]tend to but there are always only so many hours in a day.  The somewhat smaller originally square bed was planted with a single-stemmed plantlet from the gooseberry bush I'd been obliged to leave behind.  It was otherwise planted with  A. archangelica and Angelica purpurea as well as a modest colony of yellow foxgloves - all from the old place. Spearmint and orange mint hitched a ride of their own accord.  At this point the two mints are one of the bed's main acts from high summer onward  Somehow the space itself has co-created sequential ways to share nourishment and space. 

This is a close view of the area I hope to have re-cultivated by late October.  Will save tales of what's there and what kind of approach the various green ones have suggested to me during this morning's time there.  Got a bit lost squatting close for long moments of communion and consideration.  At one point this space was packed with plants from the old place.   During the latter half of our third summer here Graves Disease re-upped itself and the garden spaces throughout the property began to self-regulate.  I dreamed of it often and really never doubted it was happening but that truth lives side by side with my ongoing frustration to remain largely uninvolved due to how sick I was for the better part of three years.

Throughout this time there was a simple picnic table bench  at the edge of these two garden spaces.  I sat there frequently with Celeste sitting under or directly beside the bench.  A modest colony of milkweed stalks had appeared just before i got sick.  I encouraged them to stay and establish themselves.  fast-forwarding to now -  the former path was eventually obliterated by drifting milkweed and an ef-ton of golden rod.  Today I began weeding-out the goldenrod runners as gently as possible.  My extra care was rewarded.

The season's first milkweed scout was carefully re-covered with a loosely packed blanket of dried plant matter.   Am going to be fairly merciless with the golden rod in this area because I want to recolonize with more yellow foxgloves at the edges of the milkweed colony.  Will be saving seedheads - saving some for starting on the deck next year with intent to introduce them within the side-pocket spaces.   If there's plenty I'll also plant seed in the evolving sanctuary.  The bench is long gone but I'm going to start bringing my camp chair so I can once again sit in this spot.  It's a good place for day dreaming. Here's a quick peek at the main bed.  J and I have a two week timeline for getting the garden fence installed. 

In the background is a glimpse of J's completed roto-tilling endeavor.  He's juggling a lot right now but seems to be having an experience similar to my own in that stuff's getting done somehow.  Our ongoing byword seems to be:  essential.  What does that mean to us?  To me, or him, or our son?  What is essential for this new phase of life and any given day within it?   How do we show up for ourselves and each other so that our essential priorities are both nurtured and met?

Thistle emissaries are always welcome in my gardens.   I need to pitchfork and re-claim another strip across that's roughly the same width as the mulched portion.   It needs to be done very carefully as per dreams over the last month.    Along similar lines I can see that seed sowing of various kinds will be an ongoing effort for the next few weeks.    Day before yesterday I found balance and returned focus by fully organizing my seed packets in a small gathering basket.  I keep shuffling through them like tarot cards.  Have in the past often slept with bundled seeds tucked into my pillow case but I'm not sure I could handle the depth and specificity that might arise.  Have explained this while wandering and weeding in the main bed.

I did a bit of weeding here in an expanding  Queen of the Meadow colony.  As it's been expanding drifts of red clover have self-sown in a marvelous inter-planting.   Today The Queen's emerging stalks buzzed at me repeatedly.    You are asserting yourself.  We welcome you as one.

Soon now the entire garlic bed will be bristling with green shoots.

GAME ON

full sun all day

Don't worry!  Shortly after taking this picture I cleaned out the birdbath and refilled it to the brim with fresh water.  Before that I cleared the little shade garden that's half intentional and half volunteer.  In the Foreground are two large columbine crowns and some smaller children.  This variety is deep dark red and very prolific.  Beyond these crowns is a wealth of evening primrose volunteers.  They aren't the wild/field variety I brought with me from the old place or the purple leaved variety that lives in pockets of the evolving sanctuary. 

I started to clean up and cut back some of the forsythia but managed to misplace my pruning shears.  They cannot be found anywhere and the fanciful part of me wonders if the bird-land crew spirited them away to prevent me from interfering with "their" hedge.  For years I wanted to cut it back but J liked the extra privacy.   We reached a sorta compromise last year but then in October the house painters butchered a beautiful Yew by the corner of the house.  The birds sounded an ongoing alarm of dismay and calamity for days afterwards and I didn't have the heart to take away any more of their cover in the same general vicinity.  J agreed.  And we've both put a lot of love and encouragement into the Yew.  It will take a few years for him to fully re-calibrate.  In the meanwhile I'll keep most of the the height but otherwise tidy up the space-hogging sprawl of the forsythia. 

  The intentional part of the garden is comprised of the wild ginger and solomon's seal pictured above.  Mary is also intentional. 

Today's "star" emergent perennial crown (giant fleece flower) has been building up to this moment for the past two weeks.  This plant was unknown to me when I bought it at an end of season sale a few years back.   Sometimes I obsessively read everything I can find about a new plant and other times I just let time and growing together teach me first.   Will probably move on to the reading phase of things for this one sometime this summer.  Mainly because I want to make sure it's okay to divide the crown next year before I actually do it.  This particular garden could do with at least two more of these beauties because they look absolutely radiant with the morning light shining through the fluffy white flowerheads.

Last week our garden "walls" (it's horse fencing and super sturdy) arrived at the co-op but not the posts.  With the Thing such a big deal in these parts they only take deliveries on Wednesdays.  Today J drove over to pick up both and also the five small rosemary plants I thought to call and order right before he left.  We were both worried the ten foot posts might not completely fit in the back of his truck because we also weren't sure how large the fencing bales would be.   Thus I did not tag along in case the posts needed the passenger's side extra space.   Spent the time working on a few non-food garden projects like the Mary garden.  Pretty soon such things will start taking a back seat to food garden cultivation.

Down in the basement everything's growing well. Above are leeks,  tulsi, lettuce leaf basil, and monarda citriodora aka lemon bergamot/purple horsemint.  Never grew it before but absolutely LOVED the hot-violet flowers upon meeting them last year in a friend's garden.

Tomatoes are thriving in transplant pots.    

Some of the tulsi has begun to push the first flower heads.  I'll pinch these back once the moon's in taurus and dry the tops to use in ceremonial strewing blends.  Once they're outside all harvested parts of this plant are used in tea blends or tinctures.   I stop harvesting for the house in late August.  This gives the plants an opportunity to yield plentiful blooms for the bees at a point when their options have dwindled and frost will end everything soon enough.  

All but one of the basket flowers came up.   That leaves me with seven for the evolving sanctuary.   They take a bit a fussing to get re-situated and fully on their way to happy life but I'm willing to put in the effort and patience because when they bloom they look like this:

The flowers are four inches wide and beloved by all pollinators and hummingbirds.  Their scent is kind of otherworldly buzz-inducing.  The first year I grew them back at the old place I used to sit under them (they peak around 4 feet high when they're happy) and watch the hummingbirds come to nectar.   My childhood skill of remaining motionless came back to me and I continue to treasure the moments of watching them without revealing myself.  It was such a joy to observe these beautiful creatures from an unusual angle.  Really got a chance to appreciate the mechanical wonder of their directional flight capabilities. 

It's a flower that makes me wish I was a bee. 

wandering amongst the side pocket garden beds

The above Browallia will thrive exponentially(understatement ...) once the tree leaves have unfurled to provide the level of shade this plant craves.

Today is the 10th anniversary of our closing on this Place after nearly two years of searching for it.  Afterwards J and I stopped back at the house we'd lived in for 14 years.  We stayed just long enough to change our clothes into garden grubs and grab the gardening soil amendments I was confident I'd be able to distribute over the course of that first afternoon and early evening.  Dream on!  A decade in we periodically laugh about that as well as many other things we assumed and presumed as brand new stewards of the land as well as the house.

***

Earlier today we took a slow tour of the [other] side dooryard and field - partly in mutual congratulation of all the dreams and ideas we've manifested in that time and partly as a way of adding to our singular and mutual to-do lists.  I took some pictures and then somewhat arbitrarily decided to feature images from yesterday.  I took them during a solitary much cherished Mother's Day ritual of quietly & slowly  examining the various plants that have come to me as gifts honoring that holiday.   I'm choosing to share them because they relate to garden spaces I don't tend to share very often.  The biggest reason for that relates to nesting birds and fledgling Safe Space I try to maintain until the later part of summer.

I call these the Side Pocket gardens because they ring a little side-shoot of our front lawn.  Each tiny garden plot has been designed to hold space within a Bee Highway (ultimately leading to the field) for the hives across the road.  The selected plants also service the fueling needs of wild honeybees, hummingbirds and a few species of bumbles.

Glad to see this foam flower has survived our strange green winter.  She was one of two last year but it looks like the moles got the better of the second crown.  Am thrilled with just the one, really, as this is a plant I loved only from pictures and rare woodland glimpses as a child.  Had to move farther north to see it more frequently in the woods.  And otherwise patiently wait-out a few decades before having a chance to grow it for myself as a cultivated garden plant.

Over the course of my gardening lifetime I've grown any number of Toad Lily varieties with the beautiful spotted leaf crown above being one of two favorites that are currently in residence.   The flowers are a beautiful brownish yellow that look a lot like delicate candelabras once the buds have fattened on slender branching stalks.

(I will remove 50% of the straw mulch debris over the next week or so as time allows.  Destination: the compost bin, where else. The other 50%  plus last year's fallen leaves will remain to decompose in place.)

Was excited to discover the Black Cohosh has begun to form a colony.  The flower stalks' scent wafts all over the yard once they've begun to bloom.  Once the tree leaves unroll themselves over the next three weeks this plant will have plenty of shade.  The leaves will turn dark purple in response.

   (Most of the little seedlings poking through the leaves are Jewelweed.   This plant is everywhere in the shady/moist pockets of the property.   It's beloved to hummingbirds - and me - so I always leave plenty of it as a bank behind this particular bed.  From there a weaving colony of individual plants will scramble down the gentle slope to the road.)

Here's one of two original Globe Thistles grown from seed under lights.  That was seven years ago when the bed was brand new.  Year before last both plants began to self-seed.  Last September I cut a few seed heads to scatter at the back of the Evolving Sanctuary garden.  This is a significant action on my part because it's one of my few plans that formed ahead of moving here that hasn't been either seriously altered or obliterated altogether by one kind of naturally occurring reality check or another.
I love the aging Hellebore coloration above because it's closest to the [wildly inaccurate] picture on the nursery plant ID label.  It took three years for the plant to flower and then it showed a single raucous plum and lime green bloom that stymied me.   I'd been looking forward to cream colored flowers with delicate raspberry edges.  But the bees don't care about my inability to shift my expectations seamlessly.  This plant - plus the surrounding ocean of pulmonaria - provides reliable nourishment at a time when options are somewhere between slim to non-existent.

This year the plant showed its appreciation of our clearing more space for it last fall.  It's been dazzling me with three flower stalks - each loaded with blooms.  The hot bright green interior isn't visible unless I make a point of looking for it - assuring the flowers I'm getting used to the different look from what I was expecting.  At a less hands-on level the dark plum bells that are constantly visible fit in nicely with the general vibe of that tiny quiet-feeling corner. 

The individual side pocket beds form spokes surrounding a grouping of trees, rocks and a naturally occurring elderberry bush.  Hummingbirds, goldfinches and catbirds nest and raise their young among those trees.  The catbirds in particular relish both the elderberries and a wealth of wild rosehips/blackberries.  They're my favorite bird-resident here both personality and song-wise.  Their yearly arrival is an important milestone for me.  I greet them joyously within knowledge their ongoing elaborate songs and my eventual inclusion in the flying games of the offspring are about to provide emotional ballast on the joyous end of the spectrum.  This year I cried a little at the amount of happiness the alpha male's initial Song of Greeting scattered throughout my emotional field. 

Originally the bed above contained three bee and hummingbird friendly plants:  the mountain mint which is seen above and, before that plant (labelled, amusingly enough, 'very modest spreader' but I'd grown it before and thus knew better) consumed all available space, two wild columbines and a low-growing NE native monarda species. 

The latter jumped clear of the bed and is now covering a lot of ground that's accessible only to bees and birds.  If I want to see it once it's flowering I have to walk down to the road and loop back around to stand on the street and peer through the zoom lens of my good camera.   Have done this once so far and it was a scary proposition due to road traffic.  This year who knows.  It seems likely I'll be able to safely pick some lilacs that grow out there just shy of the road - plus maybe also see the monarda flowers depending on how sane or senseless this state decides to be moving forward.

I rescued the columbines but one expired due to Something Unknown which kept attacking it in its new location.  The other has flourished  - Two years ago producing a daughter who in turn has produced a daughter of her own.  The tiny addition of a third generation was another thrilling discovery for me over the weekend!

For reasons I can't understand the above image has flipped itself and refuses to be re-oriented.  It's bothersome to me but realistically it really only impacts the three people beyond myself and J who read here and also know the gardens as they are in real time.   I planted the lilac and hydrangea 8 years ago.  Behind them is a clump of white peonies that J goaded me into accepting at our town's May Day celebration 5 years ago.   Beyond the peonies there's ladies mantle, lemon balm, and also  Siberian Iris transplanted from the Evolving Sanctuary.  In years past part of our Mother's Day nursery crawl has involved getting a few second year Korean Angelica plants to grow against the fence just behind the iris.  Have not succeeded in growing any from seed nor have they elected to seed themselves.  

Angelica archangelica was my Mother phase's plant ally just as Violet guided and nourished my Maiden phase.  Mugwort arrived right along with menopause to announce herself as my Crone's guiding light.  Part of making the transition seems to involve releasing attachment to 'having' Angelica of any kind as a stalwart presence in the outside world.  I'm still a bit attached at a soul and internalized level although mentally I've made the jump in as total a way as I can manage without the rest of me being full on board yet.  It's a process, isn't it?  Letting nature have her Way with one's inner pictures of Self as well as whatever does or doesn't grow ...

a single A. archangelica flower head at the old place.  one of hundreds upon hundreds over the time we lived there ...

Versatile Violets

Violet flowers and leaves serve a variety of human needs quite well.   They're rich in vitamin C and loaded with salicylic acid.  I especially love working with the flowers  because it's such a beautifully gentle process and, for me, deeply rooting as well.   They figure prominently in a great many of my childhood memories.  They're also my original home state's official flower and that pleased me a great deal.

[am including this link for a far more comprehensive overview of Violet's healing and nutritional versatility.  Today I'd much rather spend most of my time outside rather than re-inventing any word-based wheels on this or any other subject.  Additionally here's a video of some herbalists (including Matt Wood) discussing violet medicine.  Plus here's the irrepressable Susun Weed demonstrating how to make violet infused honey ] 

The picture above was taken a few years back following a friend's request for "a healing agent of some kind".  As someone with very little breast mass she suffered a great deal from what's euphemistically called discomfort associated with mammograms.  We spoke of this while sitting by the frog pond.  Its northern side has a very large colony of violets.  I pointed them out and shared the fact that I sometimes used an oil infusion of these flowers to make a cream I incorporated into breast self-exams.  I praised the plant's lymphagogue properties and offered to prepare them in a very light easily absorbed carrier oil.  Had automatically assumed that would be grapeseed oil but she'd read an article that spoke of apricot oil's affinity for the thinner skin that aging brings.

I didn't have any but she'd bought some at the health food store in the next town where she'd picked up some sandwiches and fruit salad for our lunch.  

"I saw it and bought it just because it felt very important to have it - right now, today."  She said as much in the lightly ponderous tone of somebody who follows intuitive cues even when they don't know why.  Because she did she was able to gather flowers and make the oil herself right there in my kitchen.  She now makes it on the regular for herself and her two younger sisters who share her tender breast situation enough to actively wince at the mere of thought of having The Girls squeezed with imperious finality between the two plexiglass plates.

Together we sat at the table preparing two separate infusion endeavors while talking about a lot of other things we might not have discussed as a continuous stream of femalecentric herbal wisdom.  I worked on a white vinegar infusion to be used in sitz baths.    We also spoke of flower essences which she considered 'weird and possibly hokum'.  I laughed and said something along the lines of wow I've never heard that before - not even once let alone fifty million times.  She laughed as well. 

And so we spoke of flower essences in some degree of detail.  I hadn't been planning any such thing and neither had she.  We both laughed a lot more about that fact with a very gentle lilt to it.  She asked hesitantly if all the violet flowers we'd worked with might have something to do with our ability to break new ground together.   I shared my belief that all flowers have the ability to facilitate formerly 'impossible' conversations whether or not the topic of essence work was included.  We're still talking about that back and forth as we both discover more about flowers' capabilities as well as our own shared affinity for growing OUT of who we already are into that which we're actively becoming.

The basket above shows flowers and leaves that I gathered this morning.  On this occasion I wanted both for the purpose of co-creating an oil I can turn into a cream that I use in place of Aspercreme.  Its roll-on form came into my life about five months ago when my single arthritic knuckle became bothersome enough to eclipse my awareness of all the other knuckles that don't bother me at all.  I ate a few flowers as I did my gathering - moving from one colony of violets to the next so I was also moving from the evolving sanctuary garden to the frog pond and out into the field for a total of seven gathering locations.

Surface area is a key factor in making successful herbal remedies.  Ongoing wisdom makes clear that the potency and longevity of a remedy is directly relational to the degree of surface area. This is why most remedies are macerated old school with a mortar and pestle or zip-zapped in a blender along with the oil or alcohol carrier.  I continue to do a fair amount of both but, when it comes to violets, I simply collect more flowers so I don't have to cut them apart.  In keeping with this ally's gentle and sensitive nature I chiffonade the leaves - sometimes cutting the results at perpendicular angles to create more surface areas.  Today I let it go with simply creating the ribbons with a serrated blade. 

I have a dedicated enamelware double boiler I use for herbal infusions.   Unless I've planned ahead enough to have a particular carrier on hand I work with one of those large tins of olive oil you find in the grocery store.   During our last week of formerly normal behavior J picked up two of those tins for me.  Because I wanted enough to last me until the next violet harvesting season I wound up with roughly twice as much plant matter as I'd normally include.  Adding oil enough to cover the botanicals brought the infusion's contents about an inch short of overflowing.

Upon my most recent check-in the brew was morphing into its intended iteration. The flowers are drained of color and their stems are also white and roughly half their original size.  The leaves currently look like the canned soup version of leafy greens.  I removed the lid and will soon place the top/oil-filled pan on a trivet to cool a bit before I commence straining.

note:  I don't personally use violet tincture any more because I've found it's a little rough on my upper digestive tract - yielding heartburn and a stomach ache.  If I've time and the weather holds (snow is predicted.  sigh...) I'll put up a half pint of white vinegar infusion. It's really nice to have on hand for anyone suffering from hemorrhoids - especially those whose bodies don't respond well to epsom salts. just add a teaspoon or so of the infusion to the sitz bath water and swirl it around to insure it's well integrated.

The year J contracted Lyme (and struggled with ongoing very active symptoms for the better part of two years) I put up a few  half pints of the oil as a cold infusion due to the delicacy of the flowers.  I thought he'd like it for his joints but instead he used it close to constantly for headaches - which had rarely troubled him previously.   Once we were obliged to replace our stove I embraced the warming burner as the best combination of both options. 

Also - you did realize I wasn't gonna not mention this other application of the flower medicine - violet flower essence is really awesome for quiet reclusive types who also need to learn how to get up and out and shake their tail feathers from time to time in order to feel truly complete.  As an example, Molly Sheehan used to tell a wonderful story about a customer who worked with the essence and 'suddenly' began to attend and participate in poetry slams with cumulatively life changing results. 

fear isn't for sissies .l6

So here's a sentence I wouldn't have imagined needing to type a week ago -- My son had a biopsy day before yesterday.   The results came in this morning and I'm relieved to report he's facing the most manageable and least scary thing he could reasonably expect given his symptoms.   His condition will be manageable "but highly annoying" as T. put it.  Six months from now he will most likely be fully stabilized or very close to it.  I know him to be physically resilient and mentally determined so I have a lot of confidence and faith.  Also - as a cancerian mama's mama with venus and mercury in that sign - I deeply cherish the blessing of being able to care for him myself as much as he needs/will allow.  so there's that. 

and then about three hours after the guys got home from the hospital

quite unexpectedly

J. sent me a text stating he was being laid off from work.  As in - this was happening right then and there while I was smiling into space thinking right now I'm two-thirds as relaxed yet also ready to stand tough as I can hope to be in today's world.

So okay.   Those things both happened.  As I sat with my gratitude journal that evening I realized my two biggest what-if fears that have seeded themselves since the pandemic officially became our collective reality - those two enormous things I made an effort not to consider or otherwise 'call' into our general environment - neither of them require diligent ongoing CBT type management any more.  I'm now set on the path of dealing with my fears* however they play out day to day.  Rather than periodically scaring myself with them or otherwise letting them manage my state of mind.  I don't have to prepare (or even more to the point of my own pointy personality - 'fail' to prepare) for these things happening as an abstract exercise. They're now what IS happening at the ongoing life level.  So ... okay?

***

The pandemic is an ongoing constantly obvious feature here in MA.  We will use an abundance of care and precaution same as we've been doing for the past however many weeks it's been now.   All three of us are so into the groove of what we make of our days and strange domestically distanced evenings that we no longer ask each other how long it's been since This began.  We don't care what was or for how long.  We care about seeing this through one piece at a time.  We care even more about each other and all those we know who are going through incredibly mettle-testing experiences - several directly involving The Corona.   Mercifully enough there have been no additional deaths to process and grieve.   Wish so much and so hard that could be true for everyone.  everywhere. 

if only.

My sense is that J. will land on his feet one way or another because that's his best and brightest Raven trick-of-many.  It's helped unwind and stabilize my own pulse rate to witness how his friends and tech colleagues have rallied around him in the past 48.  He has a modest array of options that probably put us in a rare percentile of folks suddenly faced with this all too common scenario of the times. 

We remain grateful and committed to living our own version of a best life. Once we had T's diagnosis this morning and understood the time frame involved with him beginning to feel more physically comfortable, we both loosened up enough to go pitch-dark with our humor level concerning This Other Thing.  We laughed a great deal all things considered.

  If it's not pouring rain or snowing we've been outside working the land as much as our bodies will allow on any given day.  As you can see the little stream is looking mighty fine as Spring finds a stronger hold on the landscape.  

****

*something that's been running through my head & heart  ever since T. texted us to say he needed a biopsy - a quote I may be paraphrasing inadvertently.  Over time I've noticed it periodically resurfacing.  Attribution goes to one of the native american men (forget name.   Didn't see it in reading quickly through my choice of linked material - if you know please put it in comments) who physically created much of NYC's skyline.   "Mohawks don't try to smother our fear - we deal with it."

The first time I saw the words it was in an old Life or Look magazine feature on NYC skyscrapers.  I remember myself as being tween-aged but I could have been as old as my earliest 20's.  The idea seemed so radically pure and liberating that I adopted the contextual message as personal words to live by ever after. 

shake rattles & sing .4

Yesterday J. and I went out to the field on his lunch hour so I could rattle around the garden and newly liberated windrow with the beautiful noise-maker pictured above.  It's an extremely loud rattle that's well-suited to open space and offering ceremonial awakening blessings. 

This morning I organized and phoned-in an order at the closest place that's doing curbside pickups for full-service gardening supplies.  Got more straw, top soil, and a type of soil conditioner I've never used before.  Two cases of half-pint canning jars and two additional boxes of extra lids for my existing bottle collection.    Two bundles of 6 foot tomato stakes.  We use them in so many ways around here.

The guy who helped me over the phone had to physically retrieve the canning jars and extra lids.  He didn't put me on hold. I thus heard the other two people working phones complaining lavishly to each other about people phoning in massive orders and then being unreasonable about fulfillment turnaround time.

So when my guy got back on the phone and asked when I'd like to pick up my stuff I said 4 o'clock.  It was then shortly after 10 a.m.  The relief in his voice was quite noticeable.   I felt a similar relief looking in the back of J's truck once he was home.   We have the basics of what we need to continue building food-growing space with confidence. 

Everything that's growing under lights is up save the basket flowers.  All seedlings have their first set of true leaves.  Some are very tiny but they're definitely there.  It's time to begin planting tulsi one seedling per cell - in potting soil. Indeed - it's the season of perpetual tasks and to-do lists but it's also an enormous labor of love. 

In the past I've grown roughly twice as many seedlings - when I was in my thirties twice more than that.   Cutting back this year has been a big shift from my usual expansion mode but at the same time I'm leap-frogging forward in terms of getting the field in more functional shape.  J. is an excellent influence that way and I'm also thankful to have his muscle and perceptual eye on hand for a few hours every day.   

More death in our social sphere - this time right here in-state. 

Taking a few offline re-calibration days.  Making a point to mention that so nobody worries.