What the hedgerows had to say

Last evening, although it was getting late,
there was good sky

so the woofies and I went out for a walk.
Our land is surrounded by pastures to the south,
mixed Douglas fir forests to the north, east, west
and everywhere in between is the smell of the sea
and the wild scramble of the native understory.

Willows ... catching the late light in their freshly leafed out canopies.

Over time, mostly when I wasn't paying much attention,
I've built relationships with these plants & trees ...
they all serve an important purpose in our small ecosystem
and no matter how annoyed I might be with hauling another fallen branch
across the footpath or disentangling myself for the umpteenth time from the thorn-hold
of wayward blackberries,
I deeply believe everything residing here holds value.
Bitter berries for songbirds, rotting stumps for the tree frogs,
the mucky pond shallows for salamanders ...
the list is long
and diverse
and has become a great source of inspiration.

I'm often up late, with the owls, doing handwork ...
This bead weaving stitched to willow-dyed cloth became a personal story
about my Salix friends with branches.

On the trek home we spied this native elderberry [Sambucus caerulea]

setting off some frothy firecrackers.
If I'm very lucky this season
I may get to some of the gorgeous blue-black berries
well before the birds.
Must be quick - they always beat me to it.

I admit to being taken aback 

by the sheer size of her this year.

Why, she must have put on two more feet

upwards and sidewards

since last summer !

Me & my furry pals may head out again this evening for another ramble
for there's so much going on out there ...
and what the plants are saying now
is foretelling a fine future.


: : :


joining in with the folks over at
Our World Tuesday
[because it's Tuesday in Australia  ;>]
pop over & be transported around the globe ...

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Paying some attention to what I take for granted

Lie Down

Lie down with your belly to the ground,

like an old dog in the sun.  Smell

the greenness of the cloverleaf, feel the damp

earth through your clothes, let an ant

wander the uncharted territory

of your skin.  Lie down

with your belly to the ground.  Melt into

the earth's contours like a harmless snake.

All else is mere bravado.

Let your mind resolve itself

in a tangle of grass.

Lie down with your belly

to the ground, flat out, on ground level.

Prostrate yourself before the soil

you will someday enter.

Stop doing.

Stop judging, fearing, trying.

This is not dying, but the way to live

in a world of change and gravity.

Let go.  Let your burdens drop.

Let your grief-charge bleed off

into the ground.

Lie down with your belly to the ground

and then rise up

with the earth still in you.

~ by Nancy Paddock, from Trust the Wild Heart ~

: : :

I've put a pot on the boil today, some cloth filled with leaves & twigs

and handfuls of weeds.  As I yanked those weeds from the spots they didn't belong

[didn't belong only because I said so ... they were quite happy]

the intense smell of damp earth surrounded me;  that dark brown smell,

the one that comes after a long hibernation

and for me only belongs to spring.

I thought about belonging.

I thought about what it means to get up every time.

How I first have to lie down before I can get up.

And then

I rolled all those thoughts into the cloth

with the leaves

the twigs

and the weeds.

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Kicking back

Been laying low ...

one moment at a time as they say while

my wonky tooth figured out what was gonna happen next.

I suppose one advantage to having a root canal during tulip season

is that driving to and fro across the Skagit valley

is nothing short of   splendid

and although I'm allergic to a large number of antibiotics

at least I am not allergic to Novocaine.

A  not-so-small blessing

that has kept me sane.

I stitched on the wishing cloth awhile

because there was calm in that

and admired the sea reflections having dance time in the belly of the boat.

But mainly I swooned over spring,

the miles of GLORIOUS color,

and although I won't be doing much of anything besides

watching my own grass grow the next couple of days

at least I tip-toed amongst them.

[apology to Tiny Tim for the lame reference]

What a surreal experience  ...  being ruled by a measly tooth.

: : :

See you a bit later.

I'm heading for the hammock.

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Recipe for continuing with great abandon

~ from 'Unveiled' portfolio, by Barbara Parmet ~

~ 'Different Way' by Przemslaw Stradczuk ~

~ 'esto nunca' by Brandon Gomez ~

~ 'barefoot Kristine' by Sus Idus ~

~ untitled, by Rodney Smith ~

~ Alan Stokes in '21 Days Later' by Sharpy ~

Sometimes 

the best choice is simply

to raise both hands while

holding tight to a heart full of courage,

then

take that giant leap of faith, 

or that long walk into the dark ...

dare to do it  -

ride the biggest wave of your life

because

~ untitled, by Sarolta Ban ~

a gift may be waiting.

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