hedge stuff - my liminal Medicine

This is Sam. Sam's a cat.

Hail ‘n’ welcome to February, the longest month of the year.

That’s my relationship with this month, and that’s hedge stuff. Given the year-long verve of January, that also flew by in a flash (hedge stuff), I’m wondering how many years February will take before delivering March (also hedge stuff).

The full moon of this day is in Leo, and I pull the IV of swords (hedge stuff), so I’m feeling a bit conflicted and comforted by this (more hedge stuff). As linear time rolls from one month to the next, I engage ritual that gives attention to my personal hedge work, to the liminality of/in life as I perceive it. I conjure my list of cognitive dissonances (as I say) that express the hedge for me; so-called opposites. This monthly observance has been mighty Medicine to me for years, and I draw on the wisdom and warnings that are offered from that work in the hedge.

Today the temps might get up to 21℉ which, given the temps of the past week, might feel like a bit of heatwave (hedge stuff).

I’ll be starting Rose Milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) seeds today, a lovely reminder of how the seasons and “garden” work are not linear as some seem to insist. My experience knows that planting ‘n’ harvesting hold space and place year ‘round. So today I deliver these seeds to a small flat of soil, place the flat in the unheated greenhouse, and fully tuck it in a blanket of snow; below, above, and all around. Over the coming weeks (a month+) these seeds will experience “cold stratification” which the Rose Milkweed require in order to sprout (hedge stuff).

If you live where winter cold ‘n’ snow are happening and have poppy seeds, now is a nice, easy time to “plant” them. I toss them atop the snow where they experience that “cold stratification” that poppies also need, and as the snow thaws those beloved seeds descend toward the earth where they’ll eventually sprout and take root (hedge stuff, again).

Lots of hedge stuff for me today, and with it I recall the closing line of Desiderata, “With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.” (hedge stuff, indeed).

Peace.

in prep of the calendar flip

I have my personal new year at my birthday, and then there’s this one that so many of us share. Historically, I’ve not given this one a lot of attention, yet in the past few years I’ve explored the shared social verve of this calendar flip time. That exploration has led me to acknowledge and honor a collective bit of magick that we share (knowingly, or not) that I used to dismiss. Where I used to poo-poo and push away, now I and observe and embrace (if not with some lingering reluctance) this time ‘n’ space of the shared new year.

The mystic in me can' no longer deny the collective verve of fresh starts ‘n’ new beginnings. I feel you, comrades. And I see you. I wish to dance this dance with you. Even - and mayhaps, especially - when it’s challenging.

Today, as I prepare for this shared magick in the lingering new moon in Capricorn, I reflect on the darker aspects of this past year. I’ve already considered the lighter bits during the dark moon phase. And make no mistake, there's plenty of overlap. I do this to make ready for tomorrow, that day #1 that we share, when I open the backdoor to let out the old year, and open the front door to let in the new. It’s a ritual that I practice twice a year at both new years… and, quite frankly, any other time that calls for it, which is rare.

When that backdoor opens, I invite it all to go. All of it. The good, the bad, all of it. I neither cling to the good, nor curse the bad. I honor it all. And I thank it all. Whether I like it or not. But, truth is, I like it. I appreciate it all. All.

When that front door opens, the back is still open, and I invite clearing, for sure, so the new can whip around my interior, into cracks ‘n’ crevices where old stuff can hide, so the new can usher as much of the old, especially any of the icky sticky stuff, out that back door. I invite in fresh air, and all that is meant to be with me in the coming year. All of it. The good, the bad, all of it. All.

And I exhale, inhale, and repeat… with all of it. All.

Now, understand that I use the words “good” and bad” not for judgey judgement, but rather for our collective understanding of these words, so I may convey my meaning. Make sense?

I could go on with some personal stories to convey the value this practice has added to my life over the years, or explain more about my relationship with judgement, or just ramble (it’s a skill), but that could take days, and we have this new year for which to prepare. And in case you’re wondering: Yes, I have lists.

And I invite you to have lists… to help you hold, acknowledge and honor your goods ‘n’ bads, so you may release them with conscious awareness. And if the ritual of the open doors resonates with you, and even if it doesn’t, I invite you to engage it. If you don’t have two doors, leverage one, and a window. No window? A single door will do. Start where you are, do the best you can, and let’s make some fresh, comforting, compassionate verve together for this year ahead. For ourselves, and for all of us. All.

🕊️

Unblocked

 

Today I woke early. Most folx who know me would likely say I wake early every day. And I do. So, when I say, “Today I woke early,” I’m talkin’ two-ish, ante meridiem. This has been happening intermittently over the past week or so. This is unusual for me. So when it happened again this morning I honored the early morning darkness that was clearly begging for my attention. My attention started with consideration of my relationship with coming off this recent full, eclipse, Libra moon now in Scorpio as it leans into its waning. It seems my still waters are flowing deep, and I’m swimming in them.

I leveraged the dark, quiet time to engage my heart breath*… to feel my heart fill to overflow with love, to fan the flames under that love, to feel the grounding verve coming up from the earth’s core to meet my heart, to feel the cosmic verve from the core of the universe reaching down through me to that heartful space within, that I may stir it all in that pulsing cauldron until it overflows like fluid steam entering my body, by being, spilling over into my intimate world, out to the community, and expanding outward with every exhale to fill the earth and all the kin, the atmosphere, extending deep into the mystery of the universe… the one voice, cycling back and forth and heart-blending with every breath.

I emerged from this daily rite to put the kettle on, prepare the beans for the coffee pot, and snuggle with my spouse until the water boiled. He poured the water, set the timer, as I started my morning ritual of doodle-journaling, which continues throughout the day. My written journal asked for attention as well, which was nothing more than to note a mantra that surfaced five days ago: Look back. See forward. So that’s what I did. I looked back through the pages of this word journal - an ol’ school composition book - and saw that I (re)started the practice last May Day. As I paged through, I took notice of so many serendipities, and felt a fresh waves of inspiration bubbling up from those still, deep (and dare I say, muddy) waters of mine. Of ours.

These inspirations wash over me now, offering an odd and lovely cleansing and clearing of a kind not felt in decades, refreshing me and my passage forward. A passage made aware to me in January; a passage blocked, and blocked no more. I sit with this and recall a February musing, “When I first started blogging back in 2004, the writing was for me, myself and I. I may need to reclaim some of that.” And yeah, I’m feeling that shit. And it feels like Good Shit. Good shit unearthed from the blessed egregore that is my Moonshine coven.

Peace. 🕊

*I was re-introduced to the heart breath years ago while learning with Nicki Scully, and now adapt it to my needs in the moment. 

Vernal Blessings

 

Here in my realm of our shared reality, the season of spring arrives later today with the vernal equinox. My long-time tradition for this transitional occasion is to offer focused attention and active blessings and gratitude to and for the season of winter as it shifts off the seasonal stage. As I type this, there are flurries dancing on the other side of the windows, and they offer sweet, if not comical, validation to this ritual.

By evening, spring will be fully with me, despite the chill of the day. The days around the vernal equinox are days of balance and harmony for me, as I hold the suspension of day light and dark night in my heart as I await for the glorious, if not incremental, increase of daylight over darkness. I honor this season for this escalation, and look forward to the days ahead when intense signs of awakening, sprouting, growth and expansion and undeniable and pregnant with promise. The gods know this world needs promise.

But today, I’ll make time to bundle up to wander our blessed little acre so that I may honor and gift winter with my gratitudes. I’ll harvest a twig to bring indoors where a fire will be burning to warm us as I embellish the vernal sprig with expressions of my desired expansions, and springtime accolades.

Tomorrow, on the first full day of spring, I’ll delve deeper into honoring and gifting this regenerative season with my vernal gratitudes.

These simple acts, rituals, and ceremonies are magick and Medicine to me. I invite you to to join me in this sacred seasonal honor, in any way that pleases 'n' delights, nourishes 'n' sustains all the best parts of you and your world.

And to my friends in the southern hemisphere, I offer you autumnal blessings.

Peace. 🕊

Fullness

 

It has been a full week. Full, as in overflowing. Full, as in so much of the Work culminating with mystery, validation, and clarity. I see the peaks and valleys of the Work I’ve been doing for decades, the more recent Work that I’m doing with the support of my Moonshine coven, and I see the Work that lies before me… and the portal I prepare to step through to work the Work.

The coming days will be focused on alert 'n' conscious chewing and digesting of all The Things that have culminated over (and under and around) these past several days. Absorbing and assimilating will follow, for sure. And elimination too, eventually.

The digestion metaphor is really working for me right now. While journaling this morning I cracked myself up when the term “Portal Potty” manifested. Crude, perhaps. Funny, for sure. And, in this moment in time, fully fitting.

Yesterday, during a superlative reading - a reading that stands up ‘n’ out among decades of readings that I’ve received - I expressed out loud how grateful I am for my sense of humor. It holds me, comforts me, carries me, and it accompanies me to the deep, dark spaces that offer the hard Medicine, the shadow Medicine, the Medicine that heals like no other.

So, today I’m feeling full. I have Work to do, and preparation for passage through the portal that awaits me. But today, I relax with the fullness, the focus, the chewing, the humor, and deep gratitude for the privilege to have such opportunity.

Peace. 🕊

Siamo Uno

Today, March 13, marks a long time of loving anniversary.

I first laid eyes on my spouse in 1976, during college orientation. It wasn’t a romantic moment, as I may well be the least romantic person you’ll ever encounter, so romance has never really been a thing for me. It was a moment, though. I saw this mop-headed guy sitting at a table looking as if he was trying to fold himself into himself. Know what I mean? I probably thought something like, “What a sad sack.” And maybe I added something like, “Cute, though.” Well, maybe not.

1977 came along and we moved in together. Ten years after that, on Friday, March 13, we were married in our living room by some justice of the peace (what an obtuse title), the ceremony witnessed by two beloved friends. I was dressed in black. There’s backstory to all that, and maybe I’ll revisit it at some point in written form, but today is about honoring our own personal storm of love. And, sweet gods, I do love storms.

Today I smile as I consider the number 47. It adds to 11, and that adds to 2. And that feels about right. Balance, harmony, a union of two ones. Siamo uno.

I can’t imagine sharing these 47 years with anyone else. We were chatting about this long time over our early morning coffee. He said he’s glad I still love him. And I do. He said he’s glad we’re still friends. And we are. He said he’s glad I’m happy. I responded, “Who says I'm happy?” And we laughed. We’re blessed to have a lot of laughter in our life together. Siamo uno.

So, yeah, today we observe our 47 years together. I’ll celebrate by pulling together our tax kit, and other stuff. He’ll celebrate by working on the chick brooder he’s making, and other stuff. The forecast is looking unseasonably pleasant, so we’ll likely make time ‘n’ space to sit on the deck, as we so often do, and raise a bottle of ale to us, as we often do. Just another day. Another day shared. Siamo uno.

Peace. 🕊

"Hey Corvid!"

Some magick ya just gotta share...

I stepped outside to do one of my recently renewed rituals. A ritual I've dedicated to Fetch. As I stepped onto the deck, one of our neighborhood crows (allies to our hens) swooped into a nearby tree. I greeted them as I routinely do with a, "Hey Corvid!" Before I could begin my honor to the directions, Corvid offered three calls. I responded in kind. Then two more calls of three, creating three threes of call and response. This was then followed by two threes of call and response. Magick.

I continued my ritual of honoring the directions as Corvid perched in quiet. I stepped up to my door, turned and called out love and gratitude to this feathered friend. I stepped inside. They flew off. Magick.

Magick and validation. From Fetch.

 
  
  
 

Sun's day blessings to y'all. Make some magick, by any name.

Peace. 🕊

Hibernation Continues

February arrives, and I find myself in the days of Imbolc, the Indo-European name for this sacred liminal space between winter solstice and vernal equinox. These days invite me to recall that winter's worst may still lie ahead, externally - sure, and also internally. I often refer to February as the longest month of the year... because, for me, the pattern is that it is. 

This year I embrace this liminal space - this time between times - by reviewing the list of My Wants, and I see things I have absolutely no recall of writing, and take delight in them, especially those that are made and making manifest in my world. I see other things that I realize do not belong to me, and I gladly cross them off the list. I see Work and work that needs to be done in the days and months ahead, and I honor the planning, plotting and doing that carries this magic. 

I draw a tarot card, as is my habit as each calendar month presents, and this morning I chuckled as I drew The Hermit, and offered hand-to-heart honor to the introspective, solitary realm in which I feel most comforted, most challenged and... most safe; a realm in which I may stay rooted for this calendar phase. And I am grateful. So in these days of Imbolc's liminal space I shall tend the roots of this verve so that my seeking may continue as I plan, plot and gently do The Things in my own way, at my own pace, for this world that I love so much. 

As I consider these ruminations, I step outside into the damp chill to offer Gaia gratitude for the abundance she graces to all life, even to the ignorant 'n' dismissive. I ask for gentleness, internal and external, as I tread through this long, long month of February, alone-n-accompanied by all life.

[ As my hibernation continues I offer mammoth gratitude for my Moonshine community. ::nods:: ]

Peace. 🕊

A Liminal Ramble from the Full Moon Hedge

 

This past full Lughnasadh moon, the first of two full moons this August, has expressed a pronounced yet gentle verve to me.

One of my habitual moon rituals is, at the full moon, to assess all that's in my moon cauldron and to engage the days of waning moon to empty these holy bits so that by the new moon the cauldron is void, empty of holy bits, so that I may choose what to add to explore during the waxing phase. 

So now, as we move beyond this brilliant full moon, it would be time for me to start emptying my moon cauldron in preparation for the upcoming new moon. Make sense? I sometimes wonder if it does. ::nods:: But that's beside the point. You see, this full moon handed me a word, and that word in Linger.

Linger.

I don't know what it means, but I do know that when Luna offers a gift, I accept it. I'll embrace it until such time I'm able - and willing - to acknowledge and honor what I discover as I unwrap and explore the contents of this gift.

Even in my befuddlement I feel how this word, this gift - Linger - resonates within and around me. It feels moored to another word that has been holding my conscious awareness, and driving my recent work - Liminality. This recent work, and the word itself, is inspired by the book Living Resistance, by Kaitlin B. Curtice (a read I most definitely recommend). This work with liminality has been going on for a while, and is anchored somewhere in early 2022, before I read the book, and when I returned to Hedge work, as I call it... working in and with those spaces between spaces. 

Linger. Liminality. Hedge.

So here I am, pondering the intersection of these web threads that are holding me, pronounced yet gentle. Swaying in their embrace as I prepare to pass through the gate of 65/11/2 in October. There's nuance here, yet I can feel the tug to leave that unexpressed for now, and let it linger.

So here I rest - for today - swaying with the swing, pronounced yet gentle, as I Linger.

Linger.

Peace. 🕊

Seasonal Gratitude

I give thanks to this harvest, to the spirit of these plants, to the spirit of their Medicine… tansy, summer savory, and peppermint, and to all their kin, allies, and comrades of every kind.

As I move through these waning days of Summer, toward, and into the days of Autumn, I honor the harvests… the spirals of birth, life, death and renewal. I honor the soil, the air, the warmth 'n' light of the sun, the waters, and the very spirit that keeps me true to my purpose, true to all life, true to the Earth that nourishes and sustains all of us.

🕊 Peace.

Buon pesce d’aprile!

 

Or, if you prefer, happy April fools' day. 

That, and a new moon too.

This April arrives with me emptying, 'n' releasing, as is my new moon habit. This pursuit allows me examine - every month - "things" that don't nourish 'n' sustain the world (and me) in any way, and offers me an opportunity to offer thanks and release them to go where they are needed, wanted, 'n' worthy. These "things" include activities, behaviors, relationships of every kind. Now, as the moon waxes again, I shift my focus to filling my vessel with "things" that do nourish 'n' sustain the world (and me). That this new moon makes manifest with Pesce d'aprile (April fools' day) offers me a potentially playful perspective to consider as I fill my waxing lunar vessel. 

We live in odd times, though the foolish ancients and their consorts of folly remind me that all times are odd times. That said, I feel challenged to lighten up, to embrace some folly, familiar 'n' foreign. It's a challenge to be light in heavy times. And it can be Medicine. And I feel drawn to it, and shall do my best to heed the tug of the mystery that guides me... nourishes 'n' sustains me.

I hope you will too. Consider this your invitation. 

Peace. 🕊

Arachnid 'n' Halley

 

I've been experiencing enormous comfort from these insistent rains, and in working in the officina (apothecary, if you prefer) these past couple/few days. Yesterday I was able to both harvest carrots and plant carrot seeds; a medicinal metaphor of meaning if ever there was one. Catching up on tasks 'n' communications that had been forfeited over the days prior, sorting through DPM (dry plant matter), especially the powders, to see what stays 'n' goes, making plans for students 'n' workshops all served to offer meaningful focus through which I was able to harmonize needed function with necessary sobbing. It's been a time of grieving, mourning, and healing, to say the least.

I'm still stunned at the expanse of this loss; the feeling in my chest - my heart - is palpable. Tears well up without warning, and fall like the rains. 

I've been working with Arachnid since Tuesday to hold my fractured heart open, yet together without breaking apart, as I grieve. She's woven a strapping 'n' silky-soft web around my heart, with the shattered pieces held open 'n' in place as I feel the feels that must be felt. When the time is ripe, she will assist me in mending the shards together with gold. 

I'm mightily blessed to Know and have relationship with Arachnid, a personal ally since the mid-1990s. Consciously, that is... I'm confident that the relationship is much, much older. She is, in my experience, never demanding. She shows up at will - her will - with unmistakable messages when I need them; I mean, you tell me that a spider bite on your butt doesn't speak with clarity. She responds without hesitation or judgement to my calls for support. She responded to my call to weave support around sweet Halley's backside on her final day with us. Between her loving fibers holding my heart - and me - together without falling hopelessly apart, and beloved Anubis holding Halley in her final day with us (more on that later), I feel grateful beyond grateful. 

It is a mighty comfort to have blessed Arachnid holding my heart, my life, my love, right now. I am beyond grateful for her blessings.

Peace. 🕊

It's the Lusty Month of May

May Day arrives, cool, gusty, sunny, and with the promise of warming spring days, and still-expanding daylight. May Day arrives marking the lusty midpoint between spring and summer, and then some.

I love and appreciate all of the seasons, all of the holy days of Nature's wheel (which, to me, is every single day). Yet today I pause to observe my world - holistically - as we corral into the first day of the month we call May. I pause to renew my lusty passion to honor this warming earth, this compassionate mother, her sumptuous and ever-spiraling berth for seed, root, sprout, leaf, bud, bloom, blossom, fruit, and more - much more. As I pause to acknowledge my shortcomings and renew my vows, I offer her - and you - this prayer: May we venerate the undeniable greening and renewal that makes manifest in ways unlike any other spoke in the wheel of the year; may we hold sacred the miracle of life, with all its enchanting diversity; may we treat this earth and all life she supports better than we do today; may we practice the reciprocity that she - and all life - deserves.

May reminds us in very bold ways - if we're paying attention, that is - how much this earth, our Nona Gaia, loves life, is life. If only we would reciprocate... with lusty passion of intent and action. 

Peace. 🕊

Well, Look at That: It's March

February, the last full month of winter, managed to live up to old, notable patterns by offering much-needed snowfall, and by taking its time. For me, those 28 days lingered, and I'm grateful for the time and space in which I immersed myself in some expansive (mostly) inner work. I appreciate the s...t...r...e...t...c...h of time in isolation, uninterrupted by social activities of days past. It was Medicine to me. Yet with March's arrival I'm still deep in unresolved hibernation work... and feeling ready to shift with the seasons. So ::shrugs:: I'll carry my unsettled work into the shift.

Isn't that always the way?

And it feels fitting. As seed-starting picks up a pace of need and urgency this month, I'll tap into the seasonal metaphors, connections, and erstwhile work that will support the evolution of February's immersion. The work that nourishes and sustains. The collaborative work with Nona Gaia.. The work of Life; mine, yours, ours. And - in multiple realities - I have more seeds, in volume and diversity, this year than I have - quite possibly - ever had. And that feels fitting too.

So, now, with spring's arrival within reach, let's get to work, shall we?

Peace. 🕊

This Thing We Call The New Year

To those of you who honor and celebrate the linear measure of calendar time: Happy new year! 

It is - indeed - an extended moment of collective recognition of the passage of time. That said, I do want to offer my gratitude to all who showed support to all things Walk in the Woods this past year. I appreciate you. So, so much. It was a year of transitions, transformations, and - dare I say - transmutations for me, and for many of us. And here we are in this year we call 2021... and we all have a lot 0f work to do. ::nods:: We always have, yet it feels as if time - complete with this "new year" focus - is of the essence, and it's time to step up, speak up, act up, or get... out of the way. 

And in this moment: That's all I got. ::grin::

Peace. 🕊

A Mighty Invitation

The thriving October garden.
Blooms for the pollinators.
Past, present and future.

October is the month in which I prepare for the new year. My new year. 

It's the month, in my region, that the summer gardens release their hold. For those in my region who grow 'n' gather their own food and Medicine it's a busy month. Busy, to be sure, yet a variety of busy-ness that is paced and filled to overflow with meaning and value. A month of harvest, seeding and putting-by. A month of past 'n' present. And future.

It is a month of reflection for me. As I harvest, plant, preserve and be in the shifting landscape, I reflect on the activities, relationships, and so-called outcomes of the past year. I reflect on what has added value to my life and to the lives of others - near 'n' far, known 'n' unknown. I reflect on - and with - the ancestors in every way that I can conjure them... the green slime, Nona Gaia and all her - our - kin, the elementals, my parents and their lineages, and others, including those of the imaginal realms, all who join me and share their LoVe 'n' wisdom when I seek 'n' request such.

Traditionally, I seek projections my October reflections. Yet, in these days we live in projections hold less value. For me, that is. This past year is changed. The present is changed. And so, too, the future.

This year I hear the ancestors, all of them, requesting a shift in action, and as I sit - quietly... in stillness - I hear them whisper an invitation to return to the eternal now... to the present. 

It's a mighty invitation. And worthy, methinks. If I want to continue to affect positive change on the future, I must continue to affect positive change to the present. The conventional world (if you know me, you know what I'm talkin' about) feeds us anxiety for the past and want 'n' worry for the future. That conventional world invests in distracting us from the present... because that's the only place that change can happen. 

So, ironically, as I reflect and project, I recommit mySelf to the present... to positive change... for me, for you, for the past and future, for the earth, for life.

I invite you to join me. And the ancestors. It's a mighty invitation. And worthy.

Peace. 🕊

Holy Hot Pepper Sauce

Yesterday the big bowl came out to accommodate the big bag of hot peppers generously gifted by a family member. Organically grown, and so beautiful. I could feel the heat around my eyes just looking at them, and that intensified with washing... and I was actually sweating around my eyes when chopping them. It was a generous heap of hot peppers, and I'm grateful for them.

I made a quick hot sauce in the blender with horseradish-infused apple cider vinegar, salt and garlic. Half of that was sweetened with a touch of honey, the rest kept basic, with potential for additions after it melds and mellows. It's already tasty, and hot, but the flavor will improve after a week or so, when I'll be able to make more meaningful adjustments.

The rest was packed into a half-gallon jar layered with onion, garlic and kosher salt. I packed it down with my cedar "tool" throughout the day, until it produced its own liqueur to cover the peppers, which had shrunk by volume a third. And here it will continue to ferment on the kitchen counter (or thereabouts) until it reaches the flavor I'm after... or whenever I get around to using it. And I may add some other flavor-makers for the garden (the basils, shiso, chives...). When I'm ready to use it I puree it, bottle it, and label. Just like with botanical creations: Label. Label. Label. 

Last year I made an end-of-season ferment for sauce, with hot and sweet peppers, and just a bunch of whatever from the gardens. I forgot about until I noticed it in the spring. It was the best sauce ever. I'll be repeating the process again this year, for sure. I LoVe this kind of creative use-what-ya-got process, and fermenting is so accommodating to it, and I'm rarely - if ever - disappointed with the outcome. 

Peace. 🕊

This Year's Farmer's Wine

Yesterday I bottled two gallons of 2018/2019 farmer’s wine.

This sweet, organic, cane sugar wine was made with black currant, rhubarb, wild grape, rosehips, elderberry, bilberry, hibiscus, all coaxed to life with the first blooms of elder.

And there’s lots of love in there too.

I make this wine most every summer when the elders start to bloom. I pull all the suitable fruit from the prior year from the freezer, add it to the fermentation container with organic cane sugar, water, add an herb or two or three or more, and stir in the elderflowers to get the fermentation started. Once it gets going and the fruit is strained out, I continue to add sugar until the fermentation is done. No specific gravity readings, just keep adding sugar 'til the faeries are full. Then it rests and its carboy until autumn, when it gets bottled.

Being a wild fermentation, it’s a gamble, as you can never be certain as to how it will behave, and it’s typically sweeter than I prefer, but always spirited and so far has always been drinkable, and often quite delightful. Like this year. 

This batch is already drinkable, and quite nice for gentle, sweet sipping, and it makes an exceptional spritzer. ::nods::

Sláinte! 🕊

Make the Medicine

Just as the last of the transplants are placed in the earth, other plants come full with a demanding shout, "Harvest! Harvest!"

There's motherwort, mullein leaf, and catnip hanging to dry, and cleavers, violet leaf, and red clover blossoms taking turns in the dehydrator.

Every day there's something to harvest.

And yet every day there's moments to sit, be, and b.r.e.a.t.h.e. as I witness the evolution and miracles around me, within me, and those yet to imagine and be witness to.

It's these moments of stillness in which the greatest Medicine is extracted.

Make a moment. Extract the Medicine.

Peace.

Spring's Light, My Light

Merry spring, friends! Or autumn, as the case may be. 😊

Yesterday's vernal equinox ushered in the season for which I am ripe, as I am ready to cast off winter's dark mantle. The seasonal mantle that feels so cozy and comforting at winter's arrival, and which grows heavy and cumbersome as the season evolves.

I honored the day of spring's arrival with journaling, with seed starting, with making the season's first batch of pickled eggs, with a wee bit of time outdoors, and some quiet meditation. And reflection.

If you follow this blog at all, you might remember my February ramblings where I shared the perplexing binary challenge - silly though it may seem - that I was facing, and how - by the light of the reflective Moon - it offered me an expanded perspective that guided me deep into the disquieting alchemy of it, into the need to stir my cauldron with all the contrary verve, and allow it to simmer that it may temper and manifest something delicious from the discomfort.

Time has passed, and space has shifted, and now I'm deep in the verve and guidance of The Hermit, where I find Myself shining My light on the spaces I choose. Dare I say, a seasonal serendipity.

The guidance I've chosen since November has been challenging, sure, yet it has nurtured a deepened relationship (roots) to those things that most nourish and sustain me, and - more importantly - that hold blessed potential for nourishing and sustaining my tribe, my rooted ancestors, my beloved Nona Gaia.

And it's fascinating. I'm noticing patterns more easily. And honoring the Medicine within them. There are dots connecting in serendipitous ways, offering deLIGHTful opportunity. Thanks sweet Hermit! One such opportunity will come to fruition in April as I enter my next guidance phase of The Lovers. I feel a ripening. And I am ready.

So - in this vernal moment - as I reflect on the choices I've made these past several months, I offer you this: When you ask Spirit for guidance, heed it well, and follow its lead, for I am confident that providence will greet you.

EnJOY the journey. 

Peace.