Rainmaker dances, a wild electric dance, she courts thunder to come clap alongside her, she calls her sisters to join her trance.
There are four rainmakers dancing, their electric hair streaming wildly white, black eyes flashing as feet pound minty music.
The sound of rain pouring comes, thunder claps loudly, and black clouds roll their eyes. They blink and tears stream down, showering daily.
Grasses lay on their side beaten, thunder rattles raising rooftops until the hairs on Mothers arm stand on end. Continue reading
A garden is such a bountiful space, I’m in awe of it, marvel often at all that it has to offer! The year before Jasper’s birth we planted the garden but didn’t tend it at all. That was the year I learned that you don’t have to. That a garden is beyond a place to plant vegetables and fruit. It doesn’t need a gardener to enliven it, rather it will enliven the ‘gardener’. Continue reading
The garden is popping and lively now at the height of summer. Echineacea and zinnias provide a place for butterflies to convene and sip while sitting. The zinnias are beautiful. I love how their petals curl open from the center, forming swirl upon swirl of soft tongues that shape a whole flower head. Amidst them the zucchinis and squashes are growing bigger than ever, thriving off the straw and shavings we spread in the beds last autumn from in the chicken coop, and the bees are heard and seen climbing around inside their bright yellow blossoms. Lamb’s quarters are sending silvery powdery seed clusters out and the mint is running rampant. When we walk through the bed and brush against them, they release refreshing scents all around. Continue reading
O will you lay with me
Beneath a shady tree,
On a ship we’ll set a sail
Row out to meet a whale,
Under the clear bright skies
We’ll swing and shut our eyes,
O will you come with me
Out to the apple tree.
summer days . . . Continue reading
It’s heating up quickly here in the Blue Ridges; showing in the garden where peas and lettuce, in past years their pods swelling with sweetness, leaves juicy and fresh at this juncture, are already beginning to bolt. We’ve had downpours, lots of rain all at one time, deluged with water after a dry warmish winter with next to no snow. Mixed up into this are mood swings, from warm to cold to warm to hot to cold and wet to hot, fluctuating differently than comfortable predictable patterns. Which asks the question, to ponder ponderously the preponderous until it’s preposterous? Or the other question comes a calling with fish in tow:: how then to fluctuate with the flow, swim with the current, surf the wave? Continue reading
Sixty bales of straw. Half went around our fruit trees:: they needed heavy mulch, and with chickens and a dog scratching, shredding, and scattering mulch all over the place, I’m trusting these bound bales, squared and trined around the base will do the trick of killing the grass and simultaneously mulching, so with time there will be a clear dirty skirt down below. Let’s see, we pulled back the grass at the bottom and then baled the trunks without touching them. Continue reading