Heart Speak

On a recent day trip to Door County with my family I found a heart stone along the path we hiked. My daughter Sophie found one a little further down the trail. Seeing a heart shape in anything sends an immediate surge of love through me. Love is a universal language all of creation speaks.

Caressing those two heart shaped stones in my pocket made me stop and think about all the experiences, people and beliefs that have shaped my life. Some were wild scribbles. Others intrigue beautiful designs. None of which can be erased. The shape of my life effects everything around me. Whether that’s positive or negative is up to me.

As Sophie heads off to college I know the shape her life takes is in her heart. She just needs to follow it.

Heart Speak

I see past your words
I feel what you are saying
Shape words into love

Pie Potential

Early in its life a rabbit nibbled away the tender bark at the trunk base. Exposing a swath of naked wood, the length of a fully extended rabbit body nearly all around the tiny trunk. I did my best to care for the wound. No apples this year but she lived.

A late Spring cold snap brought snow. Delicate blooms fragrant and supple the day before were now vacant of scent. Frozen stiff. Some leaves anxious to begin again followed the sun’s subtle cue to unfold. The cold hardness of the world nipped the new growth. When touched the scarred tips disintegrated into a brown powder. The potential to taste pie crumbled like the dry brown leaf tip pressed between my fingers. I witnessed the vulnerability of opening. I witnessed how not to let the hardness of the world stop you from growing. No apples this year but she lived.

By all appearances last summer seemed to be the year we’d taste pie! July brought pests of biblical proportions, hell-bent on devouring every last tree in the orchard. The August sun melted summer’s green into the earth. Each day the mother tree struggled to continue her simple life. Beneath her laid the enormity of her sacrifice to do just that. Dozens of immature apples carpeted the ground. To sacrifice is to make sacred. I knew one day I’d harvest apples. The only question was when. The horses appreciated the taste of apple. No apples for pie this year but she lived.

Last week I made two pies with apples from the Prairie Spy tree in our orchard. As I peeled and sliced the sweetness of life in my hands, I reflected on the tree’s many teachings over the years. What I saw was pie. Potential In Everything life takes from us to give us what we need to grow.

And that first bite…heaven never tasted so good.

Patches to Ponder

I woke before the sun kissed the sky good morning. Picked the blueberry patch at first light. Deep blue bodies shrouded in a soft silvery veil covered the bushes. Raspberries ready to burst dangled on tall stems in wide rows barely hanging on. I willed them to wait until I finished the blueberry patch. Here and there an impatient branch bowed over the guide wire as if to say, “Pick me first, pick me now!” Dew drops heavy with wetness washed me with cool refreshment. Every other day for the last 8 weeks I’ve began my day in this patch to ponder thoughts. Any thought about anything that was ripe and ready to be picked.

This year’s berry harvest looks to be a bucket buster. Easy pick’n. As I gently fingered and freed the soft blue beads hiding among their Mother’s maze of twigs and leaves, gratitude ripened in me. Like the plump berries, gratitude has to be harvested, picked and plucked in an untroubled manner from our day to nourish our Spirit. It feeds our heart sweet juicy joy — a heart harvest.

My heart harvest is for…

my horses for feeding the earth what they could no longer use
a strong back bone to pile up what my horses piled up over the winter
the creepy crawlies that feasted on the compost transforming it into rich ground
all the natural elements for breaking down to build up
a strong backbone to haul the rich ground to the bushes
the magic of bees to turn blooms into berries
water living its life through all of us
hours of conversation shared between a Mother, the bushes and her almost 20 year old daughter—pure delight
the time spent with the Mother bushes to pick patches of thought to ponder
that Blueberry Cream Cheese Coffee Cake on the countertop
that taste of summer frozen in the basement freezer

Don’t let a patch of gratitude go to waste. Make your heart harvest a bucket buster.

Hay Day

It has been an unusually soggy summer here in Northeast Wisconsin. Both in rain and humidity. Instead of making 2nd or 3rd crop this time of year, most farmers are just getting off 1st crop. The worry that comes with the struggle to harvest hay was getting real. That was until a four day break in the weather was forecast two weeks ago. How quickly lack can turn into abundance if we are willing to cease the opportunity….even if it means a whole lot of hard work. The inspiration for this piece.

Bronze skin leather tough
Drenched in salty drops
Thirst burns
I drink in the sky

Prayers pour out of my heart
Machinery and God be merciful
Long windrows lay ready to make perfect hay
Keep breakdowns and tears of dark clouds away

Bound tight with twine square bales bulge
Full wagons waddle over the bald field
Each one—together—enough
Winter’s hunger aches for your green

As stars usher in night’s moist breath
I walk up to the house feeling spiritually quenched
Exhausted muscles and mind rest peacefully in gratitude’s joy
Hard work fears me

Between Skins

Between places bring to mind a notion of imbalance but to me these seams in the fabric of our lives help us choose what the design of it will look like. Between-ness frees us from being stuck in a relationship, job, indecision, etc. The hard place of between is where we are given the opportunity to view our circumstances from every direction. We come into difficult places of uncertainty to stitch softness into the sharp edge of choice with a needle of trust.

Betweens are a threshold to a spiritual state of contemplation, a place of gentle unfolding to pause and listen for guidance to take the right next action. The fray of between-ness is an opening to our higher self. These are powerful places of observation and to gather understanding of how we got to where we are, so we can get where we want to go. We forget how much of life is lived in this potent space for intuitive decision making. The pause between our breaths, words, thoughts; these are sacred spaces charged with clarity.

Be grateful for these points of contemplation. It means you have a choice in the direction you want to grow. There will be many times in life when you feel you don’t have one.

Hem in worry and life stops unraveling.

Between Skins

Garter Snake left something behind,
a lacy sleeve
of his diamond design.
Soft and fragile,
thin as a whisper.

He breached restriction,
peeled it away.
hooked by the log
inside out and in one piece
the tissue print laid.

Trusting each twist, every turn
Surrendered to the struggle.
I wonder how that feels
to wholly leave behind
all that will not grow with you.

Wet flesh of newborn knowledge
understanding’s tender spiral.
Shedding is both
quiet and beautiful,
skin and tears alike.

Garter Snake and I
both have reached this place
where we can be
stretched no further—
stretched no further.

I looked for him
among dead leaves
and smooth grass.
Perhaps he sought refuge
under dark undergrowth.

Restless as the forces of creativity
Garter Snake can’t be held still
or tight for long.
When stirred hidden passion glows
like embers buried in ash.

In this place—between skins
all of me
wiggled free
by creative energy.
All of me free.

Here grow the light,
live in the sunfields
when you can be stretched no further
leave something behind—
leave something behind.

Remember

What I am is a short, stocky white women of Polish descent with silver hair. The what is external. Who I am is a strong women that knows her worth, whose Spirit travels the Red Road with an open heart and mind. The who is internal.

Understanding the distinction between the two can be difficult. The mind only sees the what in our relatives. To know who people are you have to open the eyes in your heart. Those eyes are accepting and compassionate. They give us keen (in)sight.

Vision from this powerful place of perception, where the eyes of our heart and mind see as one, we see through humanness. We begin to appreciate others for who they are.

We remember how to be a good relative.