White Horses

Count the white horses you meet on the way,
Count the white horses child, day after day,
Keep a wish ready for wishing - if you
Wish on the ninth horses, your wish will come true.

I saw a white horse at the end of the lane,
I saw a white horse canter down by the shore,
I saw a white horse that was drawing a wain,
And one drinking out of a trough: that made four.

I saw a white horse gallop over the down,
I saw a white horse looking over a gate,
I saw a white horse on the way into town,
And one on the way coming back: that made eight

But oh for the ninth one: where he tossed his mane,
And cantered and galloped and whinied and swished
His silky tail, I went looking in vain,
And the wish I had ready could never be wished.

Count the white horses you meet on the way,
Count the white horses child, day after day.
Keep a wish ready for wishing - if you
Wish on the ninth horse, your wish will come true.
                                                                            Eleanor Farjeon

Traveling into the Future

"In order to be utterly happy the only thing necessary is to refrain from comparing this moment with other moments in the past, which I often did not fully enjoy because I was comparing them with other moments in the future."
André Gide

Skating Away on the Thin Ice of a New Day

Vanestov

  

And I have felt...a sense sublime

Of something far more deeply interfused, 

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 

And the round ocean and the living air,

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;

A motion and a spirit, that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought,

And rolls through all things.

 WORDSWORTH

Ivan Kramskoi

 flowers for me today!

Foreshadowing

Paolo Roversi photo of Tasha Tilberg

by David Wagoner

The ledge of light, flat over the pier, Tilts into darkness as the sun fails; And all those glinting shreds on the water pour Downward under waves gone slack like sails.
Now, in the shade, swells trundle the flotsam in And strand it, hulking, where the stones waver Like mice in the grey shallows.
What greens remain Are deeper than olive-kelp.
All fish roll over.
O the rain comes slowly from its anchorage Near the furthest spars, and, falling aslant, Nudges the air inward like a wedge To the cove's rim, drenches it dead and faint, And grounds it with the flotsam, lolling there More like uprooted sea wrack than air. 
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(again - a poem from Dry Sun, Dry Wind and again I messed with his poem by putting the sentences together instead of the spacing of the original in the book...I don't usually do this to poems but I found the imagery so beautiful and compelling, so non-fictional and Pacific Northwest-ish that it just reads that way to me. Apologies to Mr. Wagoner.)

Late October

junior witches gather in the streets
last year's pumpkinhead says hello as he passes by with a mouth full of sweets
children have swarmed all the gates and ring doorbells and knock on wood
tonight is dark and full of shining smiles and secrets

(this post is partially  paraphrased/white stolen (like a white lie/white magic?) and idea-ed/inspired from David Wagoner's poem Late October from his 1953 book Dry Sun, Dry Wind)

Can You See the Earth Turn?

I really like warm sunny days in October. They are bittersweet, but mostly sweet. The moon is always tangled up with wildly textured clouds in the October night sky and the sunsets have begun to have a certain lingering tension, a hold-on-tight-I'm gonna make-this-one-count exuberance. I know the wind will pick up with a chill and blow away the fuchsia tatters of puff in the evening sky, but I am going to relish every minute of it. The folks around here have been told it will be a wet winter (no kidding...?...we are on the Oregon Coast for heaven's sake..) and I for one would like to give thanks for the beautiful warm dry summer we have had. It was one of the loveliest in awhile. So very lovely. I am smiling. Wildly.

Eastman Johnson

Hedgerow Arts is 3

Woaza, I almost forgot to wish myself Happy 3rd Blog Birthday on October 3rd. It was in 2009 I started the blog and now I would like to send vanilla cupcakes and sparkling cider and buttermilk crullers and Starbucks hot chocolate ice cream and raspberries and chocolate-covered cherries to Hedgerow Arts. My ace in-the-hole, my shiny friend always, my amanuensis of random ramblings, my verbal sparing partner dueling ever so gallantly, my patient and oft' neglected left field - thank you ever so much for being so much more than I had hoped. I love you little blog-a-ling : )
Hope to get a place in a few weeks. Waiting for someone to move out then will be able to get into this fairly nice little place. Least that is the plan. I am in tatters. Like an antique raveled latch-hook rug, with tasseled edges shredding into fray - soft, worn.  I am the backseat of a car, the distant hoot of the train whistle in the night, the shadow slipping by in the early morning mist. I am the one unseen in a crowd, the one people aren't sure if it is safe to look at. I am pacing the confines of a wide open space with no walls or doors or windows. I am the girl pining for a table to sit at, a bed to lay in and a bathroom to steam up with hot showers. I am the mother with no nest no rest no downy comfort for her children. I will be the one you see in the rear-view mirror, the one you see in the corner of your vision, the one you see if you open your eyes. I am a face of the home-less/non-homed/un-sheltered. But not forever. I am. For ever.

Stepping Out

my childhood hood

later childhood flavorings

 Some historical notes about my life; my Father was in the Army and we lived in many interesting places because of this. Three years in France and three years in Japan flavored my world permanently and infused their color and seasonings into my soul. Stateside also lent many colorful contributions to my world. Colorado, Arizona, Texas, Montana, Missouri, and my beloved Oregon all have heartstrings for me. I claim Colorado as hometown state since that is the family stomping grounds so to speak; my Mother is there and I graduated from school there. I moved to Oregon in 1976, life never to be the same. Enter the nature's child living on the land tents homebirths (all four kids) teepees yurt electricless decades. I learned many skills that most will never have. I say "a teepee girl can survive" because after living this way you gain the skills necessary to really function and thrive at any level of civilizations offerings. I basically was on a long camping trip, hearth and home wise.

We lived communally, swam naked, raised food and children, traveled to festivals, ate clean foods - mostly vegetarian, and many other lovely things. Also we lived well below any sort of financial level considered to be minimum by any standards. Slowly I matriculated back into a semi-traditional lifestyle complete with running water, steady income and town life. Albeit the towns were very fringe-freindly and composed of cultural openness. I did have some re-entry learning curves; it took months to adapt back into electricity tolerance because I had been away from the constant buzzing of the lines that infiltrate our homes. People don't realize the vibe being surrounded by electricity creates in our bodies as opposed to not being near it.

me and Willow, Takilma 1978

Well, my point I guess is that  now not having an address is not really new to me. But the situation is different these days and these surroundings. I also am not as young as I was then and I have learned to love the security (false, evidently..) of having a proper home. If life as we know it is heading for 2012isms etc., I hope to enjoy amenities and comfort for awhile longer if I can! Really though, I usually had a bigger range of options in the old days. Now I am plugged into a different paradigm, or maybe it is the same... Maybe I am ahead of the curve in life experience and skills. Maybe the return to my gypsy princess roots has been to open my eyes and look to new ways to help my community.
But I want to have a home so I rest and can do my art and study and have a sanctuary for my children. I want to plant a garden that I will actually be around to harvest. I need some roots. (Earth girl, looking at the stars.) Maybe if I were a plant I'd be a biennial,  yikes if really I am a perennial, only to blossom for the one season then die off (not literally of course). But seeds I do scatter to the winds, to send my hard won wisdom and yearnings to hopefully find fertile soil. I will do all the work needed to accomplish this, yes. My heart is happy by choice no matter what; even the twinges of pain add to that ultimately.

Looking Both Ways on the Road of Life

I am still here folks. Still a gypsy princess -with some progress, and some not so much progress. Meaning I still do not have a "proper" home yet. I have been able to use a tiny travel trailer to sleep in for a few weeks, but that very  abruptly has come to an end so it is back to my little car. It has been nice to have a small bed and somewhere to plug in a little hotplate to heat water on. I have become a master of instant just-add-water food like cup-o-noodles and instant coffee and tea bags. My favorite menus have been simple fare like seed bread, local cheese, fruit and an occasional  inexpensive cabernet sauvignon or zin. Life doesn't have to suck my friends. It doesn't cost much more really and makes me feel a bit like I'm on a picnic.
There was no bathroom (or water) in the trailer but I had some access to one (with no shower) which now will seem like an incredible luxury. I take showers at the local swimming pool community center for $2.00 each. A hot shower is REALLY one of life's pleasures. Access to a bathroom at any hour of day is the challenge. Wake up early and drive to McDonald's and use theirs... These are the daily challenges that really separate my day from the "norm". These are the things that make me feel the pinch of not-home living. Like traveling, but, really - not. Hurts the heart something fierce sometimes.......
Let me tell you there are more people living in this situation than you realize. Until you've walked this road for whatever reason, you never see it so clearly. It isn't easy. The line is very thin between these worlds, the homed and the homeless, but separate they are.

 I have been able to spend lots of quality time with my love and muse, The Beach. It has been so comforting and inspiring and exciting. I walk for miles, dream, sit and look and beachcomb. Usually I spend many hours a day there - it is free, it changes every day, and has plenty of room to roam and stretch one's eyes to the far horizon. You can even nap. It makes me happy to be on the beach plus Neptune tosses little treasures upon the shore every day, every minute sometimes. I have so many agates and shells and sea glass piled up on my dashboard, decorating my little automotive pony with the booty of a beachy girl. But also it just plain gives me a place to be, to hang out. There are many hours a day and you have to be somewhere. I rarely see anyone I know so it is a strangely anonymous place in a small town. Of course, the beach has been full of tourists, visitors, whatever term you prefer. Also there are miles of beach with many different access points.

If I was to wish for merfolkish dreadlocks, this would of been the summer to do it. The sometime strong winds and the mist of ocean do interesting things to hair. I usually have to spend quite a few minutes detangling before I can go places after the beach. My hair will be ready for some deep conditioning soon but I love the sunstreaks and waves and tendrils in my blonder-than-before hair. I have always preferred a semi-wild, untamed look as opposed to über grooming. Yep, that's me, feral girl.
I have enrolled in online higher education at a large community college which has me very excited. I can use the WiFi at the library with the lovely laptop a friend is letting me use till I can get my PC up in a homespace. Soon I pray, please please. I should have some better prospects at the end of October, just in time for the real turn towards rain rain rain and cold here on the lovely loved loving Oregon Coast. I am amazed at life every day and have so many blessings; those I count and appreciate ALWAYS! I am fine. Just look how pretty it is here. Home.

my town

Adrienne Says It Well

Then Or Now
Is it necessary for me to write obliquely
about the situation? Is that what
you would have me do?
by Adrienne Rich
fom "Dark Fields of the Republic"

Nowhere Girl Please Listen

My hundreth post finds me being a gypsy princess and a wandering Nowhere Girl. Living on the road my friend, gonna keep you free and clean. Yes, it is true, I haven't a home to call my own since the end of June. Luckily the weather has been more than wonderful for my coastal existence. I call the beach my room, "I am going to my room..." I spend hours at the beach every day. I have a car which sets me apart from the wandering on foot variety of roofless. I have all my belongings in storage until the day comes that I can afford to rent a place. My fabulous teenage sons are staying at their father's which is in the same vicinity so that is okay for awhile. We hang out and text and talk many times each day. Friends have let me crash on their couches, in their small trailers, etc. and I shower wherever I can. This is not for the faint of heart my friends. I have slept in my car also which is an art seldom given it's due. I miss my computer, wish I had a laptop. I also go to a town inland 60miles away where my 2 beautiful daughters and grandchildren live and stay there for a few days here and there but don't want to be far from my sons. All the while pretending nothing out of the ordinary has occured in the course of my daily interactions with other people in my 'professional' realm. I don't want to be a problem or worry. I have fallen thru the cracks but will sprout like a strong resilient weed. I am okay and only occasionally give into a strange and cleansing despair, and I try to actually enjoy the unconventional freedoms and insights homelessness offers.......... The rains and cold will come before long and we shall see how this wildish Sagittarian gal fends then.

The Sorceress

I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp
Hidden anywhere?"
"Look into your heart," she said,
"Aladdin's lamp is there."
She took my heart with glowing hands.
It burned to dust and air
And smoke and rolling thistledown
Blowing everywhere.
Follow the thistledown," she said,
"Till doomsday, if you dare,
Over the hills and far away.
Aladdin's lamp is there."
Vachel Lindsay

thistledown

The Eternal Stance of the Warrior-Sage

bending time, watching everything, missing nothing

I'd Love to be a Fairy's Child

Children born of fairy stock 
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire, 
Always get their heart's desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they're seven years old.
Every child may keep
Two strong ponies and ten sheep;
All have houses, each his own,
Built of brick or granite stone;
They live on cherries, they run wild -
I'd love to be a fairy's child.
Robert Graves

George Augustus Holmes - Foxglove

Life Really Is A Beach

My wild Pacific was silky and languid today. Sparkling in the sun, smooth greener than blue waves spanking the shore. Aye, but she can't be tamed. She'll be sleet gray and whipping tall stinging washes of water at us in no time at all. So you better run down to the beach now because summer is short, life is short and a calm wind can heal many things. Love love love it.
Oh, yeah - somebody tell me not to leave my camera behind..

On this fawn colored shore all delicately strewn 

                                                        

Pancho, Lefty and Emmylou

PANCHO & LEFTY
Living on the road my friend
Was gonna keep you free and clean
Now you wear your skin like iron
Your breath's as hard as kerosene
You weren't your mama's only boy
But her favorite one it seems
She began to cry when you said goodbye
And sank into your dreams

Pancho was a bandit boys
His horse was fast as polished steel
Wore his gun outside his pants
For all the honest world to feel
Pancho met his match you know
On the deserts down in Mexico
Nobody heard his dying words
That's the way it goes

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him hang around
Out of kindness I suppose

Lefty he can't sing the blues
All night long like he used to
The dust that Pancho bit down south
Ended up in Lefty's mouth
The day they laid poor Pancho low
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go
There ain't nobody knows

All the federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away
Out of kindness I suppose

The poets tell how Pancho fell
Lefty's livin' in a cheap hotel
The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold
So the story ends we're told
Pancho needs your prayers it's true,
But save a few for Lefty too
He just did what he had to do
Now he's growing old

A few gray federales say
They could have had him any day
They only let him go so wrong
Out of kindness I suppose
                   by  Townes Van Zandt
Video - Emmylou Harris 1977.

Apex

What makes summer so special? The feeling of fewer clothes, less binding of one's tender flesh. The sky so big and open you can see all the way to the Pleiades where the angels live. The time seeming to linger and draw loops of  memory, like a sparkler's trail of light. The way a fruit or tea tastes in the sun. The sound of a train whistle in the night, connecting dots of distance. The way a concern or worry can be put in the bottom of one's knapsack, to be brushed off of sand and crumbs at the end of the long weekend. The knowledge that love may be only a handshake, a wave, a whisper away, if one wants to dare. The tear forming at the far corners of the eye, the corner that sees the fleeting nature of summer, the summer that will change and move on even when we drag our heels and try to linger.


growing

Don't Blink

"And what is it called when you stay awake to the world all day?"
                                      Don Colburn  from the Grove of Trees

Off Season

This little ditty is off season and a bit off topic in my life but it resonates to my heart all the same.
STAY
Fall's first gold is green.
It falls somewhere between
a joy and a concern,
but soon the leaves will turn
flamboyant with that doubt,
like people falling out
of love, becoming all
the lovlier as they fall.
Eric McHenry

Elizabeth Sonrel "Our Lady of the Cow Parsley"

Well Now, Here We Are

When I was a little girl I was always fascinated by the story of the little match girl by Hans Christian Anderson. She sold wooden stick matches out in the freezing snow at the holidays and looked in the windows of the wealthy and saw the laden tables of food and gifts and warm fire crackling in the hearth. Sad, cold and hungry, she sat in the snow in the alleyway and burned her matches one by one stealing what little warmth and light she could from them, each one of course burning out very quickly. Soon she had used up all the matches. She fell into a cold slumber, dreaming of her grandmother and days of happiness before she died and left her all alone. So the story ends with the little girl dying in the snow and being led away into the light by her grandmother's spirit. Sad. Poignant.

Honor Appleton

Why I am thinking of this? Well now, here we are. I am glad its not winter right now.

Back Into Gypsy Princess Mode

Now I am being uprooted. Changes of the unknown kind grow rampant and unchecked in my garden. A great unbidden fickle hand is swooping in to pull my gentle weedy friends and trim my hedge, leaving me exposed and without shelter . Leave me some fragrant flowers and healing herbs please, wild unknowable future. Pot up a little bowl of parsley and thyme to roll out the door with me. Guide me to verdant and solid ground, where my roots can finally spread and bear the fruits of my labor, not to be uprooted for a long long while. Let me plant again, spreading in comfort and security my wild herbs and flowers, my hedge of many colors, my salad and turnips and radish. Give me a home where the pixies roam and the skies can be cloudy if they want to be.


of these things I have not spoken, altho it is what is happening in my life. but it does not define me or confine me or delay my movement into further realms of contributing to a better world, as best I can..



Longing for 75º Fahrenheit

I do not want to miss a minute of the warm weather, not one single precious minute. The air on my bare arms finally is not raising goosebumps of chill. The air so kindly is wafting to my eager nose smells of the biggest umbel flowers blooming at the edge of the hedge.
One thing you may not know about me is that I gave birth to my first daughter in a tent under the trees near the river in hot July sunny shine 32 years ago. It was a beautiful time to camp and enjoy nature and live freely and wildly. I was accompanied by fine wise midwives and attendant birds singing in the trees. It was a good day.
All 4 of my kids were born at home. I will tell you about that sometime.
We had a rather large tent with a fine place to pitch it. It began my love affair with having walls of canvas as opposed to brick or wood. I will tell you of my days living in a tepee sometime.
I love being outside all day and watching the changes of nature's rhythm as it flows. I love when the first star twinkles in the dusk (make a wish!) and the moon comes over the horizon. I love the comfort that the new day's sun brings as I snuggle back down into blankets for a few more minutes of sleep. I loved gathering wood for the campfire and fetching water and a delicious cup of coffee, the reward for my efforts as I smiled.
This long, seemingly 2 years of wet cool springing weather has kept me inside way more than I would prefer and made me glad to have those wooden walls to keep me dry. Now my heart sings and soars to the outside wide sky and whispery winds and nighthawks cry.
... Well, it WAS nice yesterday, the eve of summer's debut. Today, already, the heat of the inland valleys has kept the cool marine air hugging the coast, not dissipating and blowing away, alas. So, ha, the sweater is back on my chilled arms and I write of warm dreams and memories.
I know much of our nation is very very hot now, some with too much moisture and some with almost none. The Pacific Northwest has both coolness and moisture. This spring has gone on the record books as extra cool and extra wet, as was last year. I don't think it has even reached 64ºF yet all year. So although I appreciate this moderate and verdant weather, I do long for real true summery shining sky and warmth. I think nothing rejuvenates the spirit and brings out our childlike heart as much as summer does.

as a young lass, Summer dreamed of the day she would fill the sky with warmth and glowing light, making everyone smile and frolic

Brew Me a Cup of Bravery Please

borage

Herbal Wisdom

The kingly basilikon must be reviled,

Spit upon, abused for abundance

Tho admixed with goose grease so good

For babies' ears and aphrodisiacs.

"Ego, Borago, gaudia semper ago."

The oxtongue's liquid quiets

A wildman but combined with wine

One howls and pines. "I,

Borage, always gives courage."

Who said character is fate?

I should like to sate

Myself with sage and thyme.

  Martine Bellen

  The Vulnerability of Order

Sky Pilots

The sight of canada geese flying overhead is one of my favorite things. I love to hear their squawking and honking and run outside to look for them in the sky. It is really magical to hear them at night but not be able to see them but know they are flying in formation right above me. I know they can be rambunctious when you get close to them in the field - I have been chased many times!
I have noticed when they fly south they favor the V formation and when going north seem to be in the long single diagonal. Does seem they are going north a bit later than usual this year? Anyone else seeing them?

fly by

The sound of the geese stirs my true gypsy soul and awakens my innate preference for wide movement on the face of the earth. I grew up traveling and loved it. Lately not so much traveling. Well I had better make an effort to change that alrighty!
Actually I have developed a strange fear of steep roads, roads that have a steep incline up or down. Going fast down roads curving downhill. Steepaphobia. Going uphill and stopping, feeling like I may roll back. Rollaphobia. I know it's sick and unfounded! I have been around the world on steep roads. This has only developed after some nightmares of riding down some very very steep roads with my grandfather, whom I liked travelling with and other nebulous reasons. Maybe it is some kind of cosmic karmic gravity thing. Fear of flying (not a nod to Erica Jong there) - flying right off the face of the earth!
So this fear seems to limit me too much for my ideal version of self. I refuse to let it get the better of me and I am going to Get My Brave Back and deny this strange fear. I am glad for one thing; I am not afraid to examine and eradicate my fear, or at least face it.
Let me add that I do prefer to do the driving, like some kinda control freak (?!)
I might not make a very good goose...

Go West Young Woman

Thats me going to Oregon from Colorado in a Volkswagon with a kitten, puppy, 2 guys and a guitar. The start of a grand adventure. August 1976

Half

There was a half moon in the sky last night. That is how I am feeling. Only living at half, only a part turned to the light, the rest in shadows. I do not know why it is like that. There is no one thing preventing me from full mooning.
I have lived rather quietly and for awhile now. Moments of flash here and there, yes. Brilliant stirrings and currents, yes. I am rather near the very end of this cycle I know, I hope...
Ughh. I sure don't mean to sound so glum but today and yesterday have been especially trying. I have many blessing to count, wildly so. I need to reach out and grab a shooting star by the tail. I need to dip my cup in the fountain of abundance. I need to feel the warm sun on my cheek. I need to have a day without worry. I need a fairy godmother, a sugar daddy, a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, a wily puss in boots, a pat on the back and a smile of support.
Wish me luck, please. And thanks for listening. Love all the way around.



I know I know... boo freakin hoo...



Voluptous Mother of Nature

She is drowning us in love, raining down her affection, covering us with weedy kisses, shielding us from UV rays with cloud, blowing away vestiges of past sowings. Don't mess with her, she can be such a bitch. Tough love, earthlings.

Masterpiece of a Thinker

(Today's guest blogger is my Grandaughter*)

"Today I made a piece of art with my grandma.  It was very fun. We used glitter, crayon wax, tissue paper, pictures and beeswax."

by Dejah*

Have and Have Not

Skills. I have so many but have trouble focusing. Ideas. I have so many but don't get them mainifested. Dreams. I have so many to realize. Resources. I have so many but neglect to access them. Time. I have so little to waste but I do. Thoughts. I have such fleeting quick ones they are gone before I record them. Common sense. I have a big dose but still wonder at my silly mistakes. Cash. I have none. And thats that!

Navajo Wind Chant

 Listening to the news and seeing tornado destruction in the American midwest is unbelievable and so sad. Heart full prayers to all and I hope hope hope that no one else is lost. Please let the tornados blow thru where there are no homes or towns. This year weather is just wild.

hedgerow gnome
"remember what you have seen, because everything forgotten returns to the circling winds"

The wind began to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low -
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.
The leaves unhooked themselves from the trees
And started all aboard;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.
Emily Dickinson

Ivy Has an Ephiphany

unable to feign interest any longer, she decided after night fell she would leave forever

People can come to many decisions while working with their hands.

(note: no actual decisions were made for this blog entry)

Lady's Mantle

 "..a member of the Rose family native to Europe and Asia, but widely cultivated as an ornamental. The peculiar thing about this plant is that the leaves are "waterproof." Dew and rain bead up on them like little pearls."
 "The leaves are the part used in medicine. They contain bitters, tannins and salicin. The taste is moderately bitter and astringent, with a warm undertone. The combined bitter/astringent taste reminds one of the aspirin-like salicin compounds which it contains. This component is often found in plants that grow in wet places or expel water. The leaves are water-repellent. These properties point to the use of Lady's Mantle to dry up and expel water from the tissues, hence its use in stopping hemorrhage, diarrhea, excessive menstruation, leucorrhea and infection."
Matthew Wood
  I have had "The Book of Herbal Wisdom" by Matthew Wood for quite some time but never took it off the shelf and sat and read it much. One of my favorite things with books like this is to just open them randomly and know that I will be guided to the right pages at the right time. This chapter on Alchemilla vulgaris is a perfect example of that kind of delicious synchronicity that I live for. It tied in many current things in my life and lead me on to new discoveries. The chapter goes on to talk of the "Dew of the Philosophers."
 "The fact that dew drops bead up on the leaves is unusual.. and maintains these droplets for many hours after the dew has burned off other plants. Lady's Mantle may encourage the subtle chemical bonding which makes the surface of a drop of water more cohesive and less capable of evaporation. ...why alchemists found so much interest in Alchemilla. ...they saw a plant which was able to generate and preserve one of the most precious substances of all, the mercurius."
  "According to alchemical doctrine, mercurius is one of three primal substances which stand at the foundation of the universe. It corresponds to the essence, the archtypal/genetic/cellular matrix which gives rise to different individuals and species. It gives a person a sense of identity and direction. Sulphur stands for the combustible portion, which corresponds to the life force that burns like a candle, from cradle to grave. On the psychological level it stands for the soul and psychological passions that animate life. Salis or salt corresponds to the body, not just the physical vehicle, but the principle of embodiment on any level - thus with the spiritual body as well as the physical. It stands for the principle of integrity or character."
 I was going thru some of my old clippings from years of gleaning and realized one of my favorite prints was "the little alchemist," Alchemilla, Lady's Mantle. Also I was reading "The Discovery of Witches" by Deborah Harkness which is concerned with alchemy among other things. And after finishing that and "The Historian" by Elizabeth Kostovo, it has reignited my love of scholarship and research. Then googling Matthew Wood and discovering his website and further readings, especially the doctrine of signatures. So very interesting and magical. I thank my muse for leading down this path and with honor look forward to more intellectual journeys. Yay!

Here We Go A Maying, On The Beach

Fascinator

   I thought the British Royal Wedding was brilliant and very touching. I enjoyed every minute of the televised coverage. I stayed up all night since it began at 1am on the west coast. My 16 year old son stayed up for most of it with me. Well, he didn't really pay attention for all of it but listened to me point out the highlights. He appreciated the pomp and grandeur and cultural reference. He is very gentlemanly and I hope he will be a romantic too.
  A lovely loving bride and happy loving groom and a beautiful historical event done up proper. A revelation. My hat off to you United Kingdom, well done. (And I always do cry at weddings..) Best wishes to William and Kate. Sincerly. And love to cheeky Prince Harry!

Listeners

                           Listening silence in the glass

                           The listening rain against.

                           All in the silent house asleep,

                           The rain and the glass awake;

                           All night they listen for a noise

                           No one is there to make.

                           All in the silent house asleep,

                           The rain and the glass awake;

                           Listening silence in the glass

                           The listening rain against.
                           All night they listen for a noise
                           Their silence cannot break.
                                                                     poem by Robert Nye
                                                                    from DARKER ENDS

Bunny Love

Feast. Honor. Rebirth. Renewel.

 

Getting It All Down

   I've happily had my nose buried in the book The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. I almost got rid of this book unread 3 times. It was in a box in the back of my car ready to donate. The other day I had about 25 minutes of sitting in the car so grabbed the book out of the box and sat to read. Wow, I was immediately drawn in and lost in the pages. I love how the characters are scholarly and spend lots of time in libraries and traveling around Europe. The book concerns Dracula's involvement in their lives in an deeply historic but realistic way.

   At my local library there was a class offered about writing your biography in an hour. Well, with facebook, twitter, blogs, videos, digital cameras, and every call and transaction tracked, the trail this generation will leave will be huge. The scholars of the future will be glutted with vast amounts of info, virtual and else wise for everyone. No more tracking down a musty volume in a quiet library for bits and pieces of information, searching for clues to unravel the mysteries of the individual. No small glimpses of a face in an old photograph, eyes peering out of a dim past. It will all be kaboom in loud color and reams and reams of words and images. Our leavings for posterity will be unlike any other in history. The ability to live lightly and remain ephemeral are very slim. Hardcopy, harddrive, hardware.

   I wish I had taken that class. Thinking about it now, it seems almost impossible to write of your life in an hour. I imagine the emotions or snapshots of childhood memory, little bundles of events that stand out, stitched quickly into a narrative that may reveal much.

Yo, Bodhisattva



Sutra 17
twinkie stardust

 


 

Blending Into Light