Heart of Pine

As a child I would steal away time from my farm chores to play among the white pines that grew wide and tall next to our land. They grew best in the coarse, sandy, well-drained soils on the top of small hills. On windy days the sway of the boughs motioned to me like the repeated curl of an index finger beckoning closer. This time of play among the peaceful pines strengthened my spirits gentleness. Many people wish for a heart of oak but I long for a heart of pine.

Nothing escapes pine’s restful rapture. In their company the spirit wanders free and easy. Whose soul isn’t soothed by the faintest tang of pine scent? Gazing at the whorl of branches rise and fall my consciousness slides effortlessly into the flow of creation. In the gentle whisper of the pine, listen for the silence. You will hear things.

Many people wish for a heart of oak but I long for a heart of pine.

Bee Joy

The cleanup crew has arrived! Easy access to a food source doesn’t go unnoticed for long by the honeybee. After the honey extraction is complete, all the equipment and empty honey supers are set out for the bees.  I took delight in watching the bees collect every last hint of honey. I could hear and feel their joy vibrating through the air. Maybe they even felt some relief. Knowing they didn’t have to “make” all the honey that will sustain them through the cold dark days ahead.

As I sat mesmerized by ceremonial procession from frames to hive, it occurred to me that I was feeding on the bee’s joy. We have easy access to joy’s existence. It’s all around and in everything. We need only to allow the joy, imagined or real, of other beings to be ours.

Joy increases each time it’s shared. Share your sweetness. Grow joy in the world. Allow the joy of others to be yours.

 

Elderberry

As I pick, the prominent creases in my palms fill with the deep purple, almost black, juice of the elderberries. The plastic fork I use to comb the berries from the stems, jabs and pokes the delicate skin, bursting the deepest flavored berries. I decide to use my fingers to coerce the berries from their stems. An effort to save as much of the precious juice as possible for the medicinal concoction I’ll be making. I relish the intimate hand labor to collect sustenance for my body. Ray Bradbury said it best when he described the art of doing things by hand as something that imbues actions with spirit and enduring significance.

Several years ago I discovered an enviable passion for the medicinal properties of Elderberries.  Elderberry’s antioxidant capacity is one of the highest of all wild food sources.  A tablespoon a day of elderberry syrup is enough to stave off the most arduous cold and flu season. As with many things, homemade is not only better but cheaper. So 15 years ago along a shallow ditch next to a wild space, I planted ten elderberry whips, a florescent ribbon marking their place in the wilderness. All I could do was let time pass.

The head-high bushes started producing at 10 years. Most harvests now produce enough to share with friends, family and a variety of bird species. The birds have spread the seeds by a method I lightheartedly refer to as “poop and plant”. Our property now has scatterings of elderberry bushes that are exclusively food for wildlife. The serendipitous way “passing it forward” occurred makes me wonder if nature had a plan for my relationship with the elderberry all along. The land has been waiting to welcome the elderberry. Evidenced by its proliferation into the hidden wild areas only a winged-one can reach.

With that thought, I would like to share my elderberry syrup recipe. I’m not really sure you  can call it a recipe. It’s more of a creative adventure in food preservation. I hope during the process you feel the hand/heart connection … that your being is imbue with spirit, knowing the enduring significance this one action has on the health and well-being of all that surrounds you.

 

Elderberry Syrup

Ingredients: Elderberry juice (2-3 cups), 1 tsp Cinnamon, 3/4 tsp Ginger, Raw honey

Put clean elderberries into a pot with a good splash of water. Whatever you pick will be enough. Bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer. Crush berries in the pot. Let them cook at a simmer, crushing and mixing, for 5-10 minutes. A potato masher works well. Once you feel you have squeezed every last drop of juice from the berries, drain the liquid. I use a mesh strainer. To the liquid add the spices. Adjust amounts to your taste. The measurements I gave are a starting point. Add the raw honey at last, after the juice has cooled. Stir well.  SYRUP MUST BE STORED IN THE REFRIGERATOR.

I take a tablespoon a day beginning in  September. It’s yummy drizzled over yogurt or mixed into oatmeal.

 

Moth Magic

I wasn’t sure if the cheeks facing me were on the smile end or the seat end of this caterpillar but it didn’t matter. Either way, she made me crack a smile. What a delight to see this amazing cecropia moth (Hyalophora cecropia) caterpillar in our apple orchard on this dewy fresh morning. She was nearly as big as my thumb!

With a wingspan of 5-6 inches, the cecropia moth is the largest North American moth. All winter will be spent in a 4-5 inch cocoon. In late May, the cercropia moths emerge from their cocoons. The female only lives about two weeks, just long enough to mate and lay eggs.

Because their skin doesn’t grow the cercropia caterpillar goes through several molting phases, each time attaching itself to a silken pad it has spun. When the new skin is fully developed it will literally walk out of its old skin. This cercropia caterpillar is in the fifth instar larvae stage.

If you have the good fortune to see an adult cercropia moth, I promise you will not be disappointed. Their spectacular color and size is something you will not soon forget. The cercropia moth is another example of nature’s marvelous metamorphosis; ever thing in sacred motion.

Moth medicine is that of inner knowing, determination, vulnerability and movement. I wish her well on her magnificent journey of transformation and hope we meet again in the May night, both of us with our wings.

Garden Queen

Summer’s youth wanes,
each day riper with fullness,
Phlox’s bright eyes open wide.

A delightfully lovely fragrance,
once cradled in her bosomy blooms,
now billows gently in the breeze.

Hot pink petals aflame,
devour the green scenery,
burning off the heat’s heaviness.

A Sphinx Moth visits,
humming above nectar filled flowers,
long tongues dip into wells of sweetness.

The cool of the evening,
invites me back for a visit.
I sit enchanted by the tall aristocratic beauty.

Phlox, you are the queen of my garden empire.
I bow to you.

Sermon in the Wood

After ceremony, I fly in a bigger sky, on a higher vibe.

It’s a spiritually induced, clean connection.

Intentional attention to the presence of Creator.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

……that walk through the woods sure did me good.

Seeing Rainbows

Rainbow sightings excite childlike feelings of wonder and awe in me. Intuitively, don’t we all recognize the mystical energy rainbows emanate? The bridge between heaven and earth open before our eyes.

If only people could perceive the facet of our diversity like the millions of water droplets in a rainbow. Reflecting, refracting and dispersing light, creating a rainbow of humanity by bending our beliefs without breaking them. Something I call compassionate compromise.

Within us a rainbow exists. The seven colors of our chakras correspond to the seven colors of the rainbow. Held within us is also a vessel that holds unimaginable treasures. The riches of the heart can’t buy a single thing but it can connect you to priceless feelings of love. Love is a powerful unifying force. I find it interesting that the “pot of gold” in our internal rainbow isn’t at the end but in the middle. Our heart center is the source of a great treasure—compassionate love.

Seeing rainbows gives me hope that one day humanity can bridge the diversity gap with the colors of compassionate compromise. Both ends of a rainbow bend. Where they meet in the middle is the heart of humanity.

“In my world, everyone’s a pony and they all eat rainbows and poop butterflies!”~ Dr. Seuss