the infinite generosity of Gaia

Yesterday was about addressing the last of our Tromboncino winter squash. This is one of those activities that inspires my mind and heart to wander, wonder, explore. I am fascinated by how such a ordinary activity can inspire so much heartfelt consideration. Yet, as a devotee to Gaia, I often pause to reflect on my activities – large and small, ordinary and extraordinary – and how they nourish and nurture my relationship with Gaia.

2024 was the first year I grew this particular squash, and I will grow it again. Throughout the summer I harvested a gardener’s ton, small, at around 12 inches long, to use fresh, as a summer squash, in all manner of cooking. Any overabundance was sliced and dehydrated. There was one squash, hiding, as all squash tend to do, that grew larger, and this delighted me because it chose to be the one to grow to maturity to be a winter squash. I love this about this particular squash, that it's wonderful as a summer squash, when small, and equally wonderful when mature as a winter squash. The squash pictured here has been feeding us for the last past couple of months. I would just cut off what we needed in the kitchen, and leave the squash in its place in cool storage in the basement. So simple. So generous. And like so many squashes, winter and summer, so versatile and useful in so many dishes.

So yesterday I cleaned, peeled and cubed the last of this Tromboncino, and filled two quart jars. I used a pint or so in a chickpea Thai curry soup that we enjoyed for supper. The rest will be used for this ‘n’ that over the coming days. And if I feel like I'm not gonna get to it, I'll dehydrate the cubes for later use. Or maybe feed them to the chickens. But if the stars align with my motivation and physical energy, I’ll likely roast and puree it to make some biscotti.

We shall see. In the meantime…

In this moment I feel the infinite generosity of Gaia. I could go on, and likely will in my blue ink journal (my writing journal) to give this particular gratitude more attention. But in this moment, this one right here, I’ll sit a spell in the gloaming of the morning to bask in the infinite generosity of Gaia.

Thanks for indulging me.

🕊️

once upon a time

It’s the first Monday in January and I’m still waiting for winter. Well, winter’s here, yet I’m waiting for winter snow. We’ve had flurries and dustings and minor accumulations. Nothing lasting. Since the solstice, we’ve had some bitter cold. We’ve had some biting winds. What we’re missing is that blanket of snow that covers and protects life as I know it. Well… life as I knew it. Once upon a time.

Today will be cold again, with the winds taking a break before picking up again tomorrow. And there’s no snow in the 10-day forecast.

I sit here in the pre-dawn darkness, sending prayer, journaling, cursing our collective fossil fuel addiction, and so many conventions that starve and deplete Gaia, and all her kin. And, lest it be missed, that includes us two-leggeds. I sit here in the pre-dawn darkness recalling a 30 year old memory of the first time I saw robins in February, and my expression at that time, “this can’t be good.” We’ve had winter robins ever since. It wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time.

Today, not for the first time, I’ll be sending protective prayers to the garlic, shallots, and all the perennials, and the winter seeds. I’ll offer my intentions and actions to my beloved Gaia, and all her kin, for passive protection, sure, and also that we may revolt against the behaviors and actions that starve and deplete her, and all her kin.

I invite you to consider your behaviors and actions. I invite you to consider those that nourish and sustain life, and those that deplete and starve life. Those that add value, and those that add waste. I invite you to consider how you might shift your conduct so that it may be more restorative, less wasteful, more harmonic, less compliant to the ill willed, indoctrinated conventions of these times in which we live.

For decades, I’ve been shifting my ways. It feels so lonely. And here in the dark of early morning, my ancestors whisper (especially my rooted kin) that it wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t always lonely. And it doesn’t have to be. 

May this invitation inspire you into action… today, and every day, one gesture at a time, one choice at a time, small magick and large, alone and with as much community as you can inspire, in reciprocity with and for Gaia, and all her kin. For the collective future of all life. May this invitation inspire a new and renewed once upon a time.

🕊️