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The winds blow long, and loud, this November. The forest moans with their intensity, as they move in and through the trees, in gusts that grip and blow the remaining leaves away from their summer homes. The wind pulls the limbs, this way and a that, blowing with insistence. This wind that arrives with graying skies, reaches in and stirs my own fire, bringing restlessness, and presenting a challenge to find stillness, grounding, and quiet in this sound and fury.

I seem to crave the stillness of the trees, who remain rooted, tall, proud and bare-limbed. In their stillness they hold a trueness and an authenticity, ready for what may come.

The skies are gray.
The cornfields are brown, the forests damp and cool. 
The spotted salamanders creep into their tumbled leafy homes under the duff.
The mammals gather the foods for winter stores,
The deer call their family from the forest's edge.
The flocks of geese turn south in unfolding strands of family groups, leaving behind the frosty waters here.

I watch the flying groups of geese from the mountain top. This attention holds me. It helps me ground and return to center. I watch to gain perspective. This perch, here on top of the world, is a place to which I often return, to discover and maintain an inner cohesion; it is a place of landing. From this position, I witness those who travel, ahead of the cold winds to come. Ahead of the trials we will encounter. I witness the changing clouds, and also the ever present sun, stars, and planets in their passages across the skies.

In this practice, I purposefully, attentively also count the flying individuals as they pass. Individual, by individual, like conjuring a spell, a prayer, a gift to help them in their passage. I offer this prayer to them in hopes the gift may help them on their journeys ahead, and aid their swift return home. I know, they know, we know, that for now, winter winds and weather must blow. We ready for winter and the snows to come.

A friend from the mountain said , "Change is in the air and we witness it. All we can do is witness. All we can do is watch and count and ponder what not so long ago was, what now is, and what in future may or may not be."

The shifting of season from Autumn to Winter heralds a time of dreaming. Before the magic of new life can return, we must dream. And ponder, what we know and believe. Review our paths, and where we hope to go. And when we awake, when Spring returns, then it will be time to begin the dance of bringing the magic of new life. I will be ready.

For now, I collect my tools for the wisdom months: book, humor, art, pen, tea. Trusting that soon the thread, the one to lead us forward on the path, the one that will reveal itself as quiet knowing, the one to help us find our way will arrive. I will try to be like the trees, grounded, ready, still, and standing in unadorned bareness.
Ready for the winter snows and storms. Ready for what may come.

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A new crowd has arrived
in the neighborhood, who are enjoying a garden buffet.

These rare and even days of early Autumn, when daylight warms us easily, and nights, feel cozy, and when most of the summer flock has moved on to warmer climes, the forest has brought a new set of friends. I knew they were new, because they had to work out flying rules with each other. They had to figure out how to negotiate the voracious chipmunks, the feisty loud bluejay. And how to find waiting posts while I delivered the repast. They flutter in an out to avoid me and each other, but don't move too far away.


They perch on tall goldenrods, awaiting service, waiting for me to put their morning meal on the feeders, flying in quickly to snack, and then flitting off even faster with up and down flight patterns wishing to enjoy their meal elsewhere; they seem to prefer to eat and away, out in the open, and away from me and the feline predator. The newcomers consists of recently hatched chickadees, sparrows, robins, bluejays, cardinals, and at night, owls.

I sprinkle seeds in and on the different stations, keeping in mind the different birds' needs. After all, I offer the seeds for birds, but often other animals like the food as well. The arena includes chipmunks, raccoons, skunks, rabbits, the adorable opossum and occasionally a bear. Not every day, but often, I look out my door and see a four legged mingle with their not too distant winged kin, enjoying the feast.

I heard this quote from Humberto Maturana (as translated by P Cumplido,) "Love is giving space to the other, to allow other to have and be a presence." In the space of witnessing each other we have the encounter which allows the heart to grow and expand with love. I like thinking these guests are learning how to provide space.

Some of the newcomers may stay for winter, others, will stay only to enjoy the pleasant weather before winter winds chase them south. All appear to mingle freely, indeed they have learned how to fly with each other. A white-throated sparrow trills, a chickadee cavorts. General contentment flows in the garden buffet, where we rest to enjoy the sun, eat at the feeder of life and feel companionable with kin. There is vacationing vibe at the feeders this early October.

They have helped to ease the sadness of saying goodbye to many of the summer's residents; I find I am relishing this glowing season more quickly than usual. I think it is from the new friends who add to the joyful dance of leaves with their twitters and chirps.

I had another encounter, the other day, with winged kin, while driving north near Ottauquechee river. During this drive, I happened to glance up and saw a bird that immediately made me want to pull over and reach for my binoculars.

Surely, I thought, That, is an eagle. But who is with it?
And why is this bird dipping and dancing, showing its vulnerable undersides? Flashing their transitional white plumage in the Autumn sun? And is that indeed another eagle? I had stopped at a Gorge where I eventually counted and comprehended that 10 birds of various sizes and ages, were flying in a thermal mere feet above my head ~ circling, dipping and then rising again. They were lingering, not migrating, yet. Clearly enjoying a convergence of rivers, mountains, and winds. Here is where I experienced an encounter I will not forget. As I watched, this story unfolded ~

The one adolescent bald eagle turned into five, kettling over the gorge. And in this kettle, the raptors were dancing, playing actually, with five ravens, purposefully moving toward and then flipping over and under their smaller kin. Somersaulting and twirling into barrel rolls. Flying in and then away in graceful patterns. So large, I could never keep more than two birds in my view, and sometimes not even that. The ravens kept close by and joined in the dance as well they could.

Two of these birds stayed close and marked each other's moves in tandem. Moving in tandem as practiced good friends ~ dancing, cavorting, and twirling together.

Eventually, some of the ravens and eagles traveled on, and south. That is, the eagles traveled south. The ravens lowered into the valley, below sight. Before leaving, one of these pairs of ravens hovered so near to each other that the top one, could and did gently, carefully, lowered his wings, to brush the tips of the other.

And in a final gift, the last pair to leave the Gorge, was an eagle and a raven duo. They were flying so close to each other, in tandem, as the two ravens had just done, that they nearly touched. They flew with ease and presence. A gift of time and space. They continued south and on, beyond my field of vision. And though I could still imagine I heard the music, I no longer saw them.

Have you ever had the experience, where some thing, some music, some art, is so entirely beautiful that you spontaneously start weeping? I did, on the side of busy 91N highway. My heart was cracked open at the beauty of connection and encounter. I wished to share that encounter with you. To imagine our cousins spontaneously, peacefully, demonstrating love and co-existence. My heart ached with joy and beauty.

once again, these kin are my guides to living on this planet.

Thank you, for reading this post, for imagining this peace with me. Blessings to all of you, all who travel on finding one's warmth, and all who stay and dwell in the northern forests. Namaste, welcome home to your hearts.

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"Life is about light."
"Everything that is alive has to have light inside of it.
When something falls away from the light, it starts to decline." from R Rudd in "Transforming depression"

The light has changed as we move from Summer to Autumn. The light. The bright confident roar of light that filled our days, has quieted. There is a gentleness now, in this sideways light. Yet, after the brilliant radiant blaze of summer, this lowering, this shift of this star, feels like a falling, a moving toward decline.

The gardens hover between decay and tenderness. The flower heads brown into their seed heads. The light during the day, decreases in intensity and length palpably. The birds, ahh, the birds, my and the forest' companions, are moving away now, moving south.

One morning, a hummingbird hovered just to my right, above my ears, above the flowers, while I was reading. I realized, that this little friend, may indeed be saying, goodbye.
I turned my head as this fleet-winged friend, turned and sped south, as fast as the wind, on whirring wings. I called out ~ "Blessings dear one. Travel safely. I hope you may come back to share summer with me, and this land next year."

I am saying good bye to many of Summer's friends. I notice the leaves appear to linger, slowing their falling day, gently moving with the winds on the trees limbs. Gently moving with the winds of change. Soon, they will fall to the ground too.

Knowing this, I turn my face to the sun, like a sunflower, and whisper gratitude. I seek out the friends still here. I seek where the light still radiates out from the core. I plant the seeds of new life with my attention now. Like a harvest of gratitude.

For now, I notice, that I still hear the faint trill of both resident and migrant thrush nesting in the nearby woods; the baby owl practicing her new singing voice in duet with her parent. Bluejays congregating and calling, geese on the river, practicing flights over the fields. The crickets hum, the frogs chirp. The bear rummages through, the raccoons roll out as dusk calls, and the adolescent skunks forage in my yard for their evening meals. (I have three different teenage skunks, each with distinctive tails. And when all three are present, it is a tableau of black and white.) I leave my screen door up so that I may better hear all of these neighbors' entertaining lives.

Each flower that blooms, each bright moment feels so poignant. Yes, I miss the chorus of birds that fills the air in the height of summer. And the possibilities of new growth and greenery. The noise, the heat. The cacophony. I miss these and I also dig deep and notice the sparkle that is still present.

In this sparkle, I create a dream of light with colors of many hues. I breathe in the belief in the light that is present. What can I dream with this architecture of light that streams in with Autumnal quiet? How can I still revel in the memories of summer and mold them anew into new devotions? This is an inner journey as well as an outer, to surrender to this flowing change that shifts as I watch. Seasons, and light flowing from one resplendent vision to the next. Breathing. I surrender.

A male junco hops out of the shrubs and the low asters. Seeking new seed for the belly. Perhaps he is one of the babies from this summer. Perhaps he has chicks still to feed. A beautiful wind arises as the clouds move. A wind from the trees. Asters, goldenrod, golden sunflowers wave in this breeze. The hilltops are aglow with early Autumn sun.

The roar of joy, melts and merges into a murmer of a prayerful chant


"Be wildly devoted to someone,
or something.
cherish every perception.
... forget about control.
Allow the Beloved to be herself, and to change.

Passion and compassion, holding and letting go--
this ache in your heart is holy.
accept it as the rise of intimacy with
life's secret ways.

Devotion is the divine streaming through you."

From Radiance Sutras, sutra 98

I wrote a little piece in honor of the Equinox, You can read it here Seasonal Happenings

Happy Fall, and Happy Equinox. So much love <3

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Days feels subdued this time of year. The morning chorus is not as exuberant, the bird calls less riotous, the soundscape incorporates the hum of crickets and an occasional low note of a frog. The fog, and sometimes mist, rolls in too, in the beginning and end of the day, dampening the sounds, and increasing a sense of quiet. The days ebb slowly and gently into night, like neighbors lingering at a garden fence before they move on, to their next destination. Gardens demand less digging, more tending, as the photo below demonstrates.

Perhaps all the captivating sound and drama that amazed us in early June still exists in July-August, only spread out more evenly now throughout the day, with less dips and spikes.

Whatever it is, I feel a shift. And, I confess, I feel it as foreign. I tend to relish the whitewater of early summer ~ the whitecapped filled crashing of waves, the musical conversations lingering in the air, the unknown, the chorus of possibilities.

Now, the river of summer, has lead me into a calmer waterway with banks wide, pace slow. I feel as though I am on a riverboat where the activity entails watching the occasional jumping of fish, or the chittering fishers. It is luxuriant, evenly paced.... Regardless, I can't find its rhythm. I find that my inner rhythm, the one that tends to seek the noise, the laughter, the crest of the wave, feels at a loss. What am I to do? What is the most precious thing calling me now? What is this energy? and how do I synchronize to it?

Long gone are the days of Solstice with its high voltage push to create; now, here, is a slower thoughtful pace. Perhaps this quiet is like the easy space between words in a conversation amongst friends who don't always need to speak, who find comfort resting in long lapses of silence. How do I learn to slow to this new rhythm?

I shall start by asking myself, what do I hear, feel and see?

I hear a low buzz of a bee, and then a quicker one of a hummingbird, passing en route to a flower. I hear the ever present gift of crickets, chirping their tune for themselves. I hear the titmice fledglings confidently calling in a laughing tone to each other.

I feel a breeze called up by the trees. I feel the growing humidity of the day slowing my breath and movement. I feel the damp dew under my feet.

I see... Ahh, I see, the green. everywhere. The gift of Vermont. I see the flowers to be, flowers still fresh and flowers spent, passing on their pollen. As though time is unraveling in the slowed down pace of motion pictures.

Now, I have slowed enough to hear the wind that whispers too, "notice me." A wind that brings a smile, saying, here, here, here. I feel the wind on my face and how it embraces the creatures as the wave passes. The wind has opened my eyes and I see the radiance inside all these lives. The life force that is shimmering in the light, beckoning you and me to receive the gifts present. Here, now, pulse, breathe, listen. Listen to the light of now, here. pause, be and, make room for all this light. And, Radiate. Radiate your light, our light.

The subtle winds of nurture and care of early summer have shifted gently and not so subtly to Notice and attend to the light within and the light without. Let them have dialogue, give them time to pause too, as if they are old friends, where there can be both moments of cacophony and moments of silence. Let the unknown creep in with ease so that magic can unfold before your eyes in a diversity of song.

I see the light shining off the green life around me. Which makes it sure hard to pull out that bolting lettuce in my garden ~ it is so pretty in reds and greens, I move a few over, to give room for the new. And leave a few for brilliance. I notice a self-sown mullein who nestles comfortably in the plot alongside with companion plants. I Ieave that friend too. Now, I can imagine the magic that may unfold here in this little bit of wild.

A little wild in my garden of summer offering me the most magical gifts of light.

The harvest from the wild is a gift
that once given opens a deepening
relationship between
given and gifted.
~RW Kimmerer

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The Sun, Moon and Earth are in calm reception with each other these days. I awake and feel stillness. I watch the setting sun lingering slowly on horizon's edge, as though though the sun does not want to leave the earth's presence, just yet. The night eases in quietly and slowly, joining the sparkling dance of life with fireflies and night sprites. Dancing light. The moon waxes to full Strawberry blessings.

Each luminary, pausing in the dance with each other on this long long stillness.

I awake in the mornings with gentle chirping of a pair of cardinals eating at the feeder; the buzz of hummingbirds drinking; the occasional soft hum of activity contrasts the greater gentle stillness of these days. Awe waxes easily in the grace of this season.

The heat also waxed this week, making movement difficult. My cat’s meow turned into a croaking, I sought breezes to help me breathe. I anticipated days of this heat and increased presence of the sun, I planned to simply sweat to keep cool. And then, the surprise arrived. I heard thunder.
Glorious impressive thunder.

My body trilled in hope and anticipation and sure enough the skies, unexpectedly opened releasing a torrent of water, to drench the land, the animals, the ponds and me with cooling water. I ran out and danced in it, in my warm weather clothes, soaking to the skin before it ended. Squealing with delight.

My energy completely changed
I heard the lesson for me in this moment: where we are, can change faster than we know. In this moment of pause before the unfolding of the next season, a new possibility has arrived. A new experience gifted us. I wonder, what other new possibilities might this new season bring? What might be a new goal for me to embrace with the graces and gifts this season brings?

Happy Solstice dear friends 🌞
Wishing you new possibilities of expression

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Wee gentle night sprites have landed in their summer homes. I can hear them rustling at the very tippy tops of the trees. Their whispers become especially clear, when I linger outside between dusk and dark. One night, while enjoying the crepuscular light, I heard their gentle movement emanating from the softly rustling limbs. My ears could not hear the specific words; instead, I hear the tones of contentment, laughter, easy conversation between friends, the shaking of hands, the songs of saying, "I love you."

I imagine the greetings may go along the lines of something like ~

"Hello there! You are arrived!" "So nice to see you again," "Here I am, this year in the birches," "Have you seen so and so from uphill?" And so on. Maybe they comment on how the plants have changed~ "My this sapling is a young oak now," or "What a nice night-scape you have," or "has anyone seen little ferny?" And so forth, stumbling along, on the path of reuniting, of hanging out with easy and good friends.

Later on, the conversations will gain a deeper timbre, one that is serious about the business of melding with the wind in the trees, of the making of music in the night. For now, the tone is gentle, a little higher pitched and "Springy."

Nice neighbors to have in this warming season, Nice neighbors bringing sweet nothings to the night air.

I briefly forgot recently, that it was still indeed Spring. The night had gained a deeper chill, inspiring the making of a fire inside. So I was surprised when going outside to hear the susurrations and purrings from the neighbors in tree tops. I also felt relief that the chill had not not scare them away from their Springtime merrymaking. They seem to adapt to the fluctuations in conditions as one might modify a dance to the changing rhythms of music.

Sounds and smells and colors are all visceral reminders to me that this is Spring, the unveiling of creation. I seek each of these senses to revel in every year and this has been a bonus year with so many flowers, colors, sounds and visitors. I am glad I walked out and into the night time paths to hear the new arrivals shimmering with expectation for the season ahead. Who are you hearing in your neighborhood?

Welcome shadows, Welcome Spring, welcome sky, night noises, you and me.

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While walking down a tree-lined lane, I tried to imagine the words, or the paint that would "capture" the experience of witnessing Spring arrive this year. Yet, this sense is not something I can put into a phrase, a photo, or a painting. The ephemeral transition offers a constant, nearly invisible motion of emergence, and unfolding; like an interval of breaths. One occurring right now, when all I can see is green. I look at the landscape or the field, and everywhere, the color of green is bleeding into one experience, into one expression of translucent light.

While gazing down the road, I feel unsure of where one thing starts or another ends. When I peer more closely, I get the impression that this light is a silvery green one. An elven silver ~ an emanation rather than a still-life experience. It as though the green is acting as a foil to draw our attention to itself. This light unfolding is barely hiding a laughing diamond sparkling light beneath the surface of chlorophyll. Sparkling codes that shine into my eyes, skin, senses and heart.

I notice, there is the way that the young leaves, so newly emerging, unfurl so tenderly that I can scarcely breathe when looking at them. Their openness holds them in contact with every cell of the universe- you, me, birds, stars, moon. Everything.

There is the way the very young animal bumps shoulders with each other without a care. Birds land within two feet of me. Red efts watch me with curiosity; I often find myself reminding the young chipmunk that, indeed, the black puma sitting nearby on the pathway's rocks warming himself, is in fact, a predator, eager for the chase.

There the way, the first sighting of anything, is such a treat to share with friends and neighbors alike. Or a field of dandelions in bloom feels like the most glorious expression of joy, and illumination of hope that one has ever experienced. Today, that field is also filled with bees.

There is the way, the day feels when I walk out of doors, onto the first truly warm day, and the air, sounds, smell, and warmth all combine to something more than those words can say, more than the sum of the parts. And you look into the person's eyes next to you, and you see that they feel it too. That you both have your mouths open, and your arms shiver with goosebumps. Sheer beauty has that magic.

These moments
These are the ones I wish I could share with you today and every day of Spring.
Hoping you feel some of this silver diamond magic wonder, seeping into and through the cracks of your hearts too this Spring.

So much love.

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I await, for their return. Hopeful, with anticipation. I pause, listening intently, in the in-between hours, knowing that, any dusk, or any dawn now, might be the one, when I will hear the first Flute-like song of the thrush. The reclusive thrush who have come home to nest once more.

The Spring rains have arrived, the streams run through all the forest floors as the grounds, soaked through with water, are ready for the growing season, and the forest floor is soft with wet duff - all creating a perfect ecosystem for their return.

Other things that have emerged overnight too, showing the map home ~ the coltsfoot bright yellow flowers, the Red maple buds which are beginning to fall, young nettles emerging quietly from the thawed ground.
And from the animals ~ the mourning doves court in circles, bobbing after each other like the flirtatious spring warmth. The amphibians practice the music of their lifetime, with a deafening call and response. And me? I pause, always with an ear out, waiting for the unmistakable song. Practicing patience.

Today, while drinking my tea, sweetened with the last drops of honey made from last summer's coltsfoot, I had additional reasons for gratitude. The bright beautiful blooms of the colstfoot has indeed returned in abundance. Last year, I had cried in fear of loss, when the road crew dug deep, with the appearance of attempting to plow out these beautiful plants. I hoped they would be resilient and reappear. I wasn't sure... And indeed, like anything you try to ignore or suppress, the more you attempt to eradicate, rather than embrace, the more they will rear their heads triumphantly and multiply. This year, the soft plants line the sides of the of my road like trumpeters announcing their triumphant return. Welcome back!!

Now, all there is left to do is wait for the thrush. We still have a few more weeks of cold nights, which may keep them quiet. Yet, maybe tonight, just maybe, with gentle rain moving in, maybe soon, I will hear the gift of their song. The song of the gentle thrush

Wishing you gentleness as the Spring gifts nourish and emerge. Namaste

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Snow and rain mingle on my roof this morning, arriving to bring A Surprising Spring Storm. Winter and Spring sing together, making an unusual yet quiet harmony. An a-cappella beat, in concert with the songbirds of Spring who still twitter and flit with their irrepressible vibrancy. The combination reminds me of the Thoroughly Magical life force of Spring. The ode plays on, and throughout the edges of the day. My yard today, gives the appearance of only winter~

The birds, the elementals, and the wind know better. We, like they, will ride this storm. Here and there are reminders of what secrets under today’s soft carpet of winter~
Below, are recent photos taken of moments reminding me of Spring. Whether they are of water moats around islands of snow, vernal pools, magnolia buds, daffodil leaves or maple flowers emerging I hope you enjoy these early messengers of magic ~

Namaste dear friends, Happy April storms to you. Let's ride this changing times with glee

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it all starts with the simplest ingredients
a peek into the cupboard ~
a few potatoes, some carrots, and a chunk of cheese,
the phase of the moon, the running of wild water, a lifting of the breeze~
all these elements arrive, combining in one particular moment...

and then suddenly, there is alchemy.
The imagination feels the spark of possibility and the weavings of the moment bring whispers of hope to the soul. Suddenly, one can ask, once more, surprising oneself, the question, "What, may I create today, with these ingredients, at this moment?" here it is - possibility unfolds ~ what can we offer, today, now, from the simplest ingredients of life.

it happens just like that. one moment, there is nothing, the emptiness, the silence. the void.
the next moment, something catches the eye, catches the imagination and our notice, and in streams ~ possibility flows through us like the waters of life. when I let my edges soften, when I look around, my eyes begin to notice ~ and slowly the elements mix bringing inspiration with opportunity. a spark ignites. impressions mingle and meld into an idea and flow into the pot of life before me.

it is a random place to start. this moment. when magic and opportunity spread into fractals of shapes and vectors, when memories, feelings and desire all create motion. such an seemingly inconspicuous moment. and yet....

i root around in the cupboards hoping, trusting actually, that my hands will find the right spices to add, the joyous stroke of color to blend, the right words to speak, the beautiful notes to sing. Soon, I discover the inspirational treasures that I will add to the cauldron of life.

The winds blow softly and gently today. The colors mix with light. The light sparkles in prisms on the droplets hanging from the trees, the places where the sweet life-giving water last and linger. Smiling, I notice that the boiling water simmers the potatoes in my soup already; the red shouldered hawks circle overhead in diagrams of infinity, laughing, like gulls, and announcing their return, laughing, as if in the joy of the here and now. The sun peeks through the clouds. This moment reminds me that now is full of the miraculous, it surrounds me~ I catch the wind today and I fly.

Somehow, Equinox has arrived, today! Today, we move from the waters of Piscean dreams to the fire of Aries momentum. Happy balancing to you. If you like to read more, I wrote a little on seasonal event which you can find with this link : Seasonal Happenings