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Here, where I live, the valleys welcome the Autumn mist, reverentially.
The valley softly envelops the clouds as they linger here, on earth. Creating mosaics of grey and green. Above the valleys, tendrils of misty fingers rise expressing their delight and pleasure. During these misty times, the moisture creeps onto and into every surface, nook and cranny. The vapors spread long sleepy tendrils over the fields, ponds, gardens and rivers, silently arriving, then moving on slowly. They transform and disappear into the ethers on their own timing. During these days, the horizon, remains indistinct and hazy. Elusive and indefinite. Mysterious and possible.

The mist may last through the day, or may slowly disappear, revealing a bright sun; or yet again, the mist may lift on a gentle breeze, a breeze who comes like a guest, laughing all greyness away.

During the day, crickets hum and "brrzzz" in a steady beat, one that moves strangely in, and out of hearing. The flight of the bluejay crosses the sky lazily, drifting over the treetops in a new, yet distinct Autumn pattern. The Raven babies practice their new language skills, entertaining us with their inventiveness. Burnished corn silk towers over my head, glimmering in the lowering sun; goldenrod emerges to feed the bees before hibernation; st john's wort, and beebalm flowers fade.

All this alerts us, that the seasons are changing, that the precious migrants will move on so soon, and that our inner patterns are shifting too.

Cirrus clouds tumble now through the high atmosphere, as I look up. I know and feel the air is twirling up there, in a different rhythm and with different voices. Lifting the perceptions of my days, opening me to shift and change as well. The evening shadows grow longer and longer, lingering, as if to taste just one more moment of daylight, before they too will fade into the quieter days of winter.

At day's end, the early twilight calls me home sooner, from the gardens or river, to tend to the inner fires. Before stepping inside, looking up once more for the day, I see the clouds drift, the trees wave, the lowering sun creating golden shafts of light and soft shadows. I welcome them all, just as the valley welcomes the mist. I feel their graceful presence helping me prepare and change into a new season. Smoothing the edges of this transition in life, as effectively as the mist shifts the perception of my horizon.

Soon I will be stepping up and into my yurt, not with misty moisture on my face, but the sense of the crispy cold. Not with short sleeves, but with layers of warm wool on my body. I feel the yearning and comforting devotion in the hills, and trees, breeze, birds and flowers surrounding me now, helping me, like they, accept the changes with grace and pleasure. I welcome the season of changes.

Late Summer days buzz with activity; they ride waves burgeoning with abundance and growth. Options emerge with the sunlight and warmth, urging participation in play and productivity, in rest and fun.

These waves of busyness arrive soon after the sun lifts above the tree tops. The rising swell collects me and then sweeps me along onto a trajectory of motion. I dream up plans and possibilities, projects and play. I resemble an insect who darts from here to there, moving so quickly, from one point of interest to the next, that I feel barely visible. It feels rare when I do find myself sitting still, to just be. Or to just listen.

I wonder about this ambition for activity.
My desire to fill the warm and inviting days results in more time engaging, and less time relaxing.

Meanwhile, summer shines on, flourishing and inviting. Twirling invisible tendrils of magic in the air. The sun smiles through it all with beneficence, magnanimously offering radiance, regardless of what we do or don’t do.

And in all the movement, I find myself beginning to crave quieter,
inner balance, to simply

reach stillness.
So, yes, while my gardens would dearly appreciate a weeding, and the paths would love a clearing of debris, or my floor a washing…. I want to find the precious gift of lying on the earth with empty space, to feel the luxurious summer breezes waft by, and watch them tussle the hair of the trees, brushing their limbs back and forth, like waves on the sea. I want to allow my imagination to fill in the spaces of the unknown without agenda; I want to sit and breathe in deeply the sounds of late summer, breathe in scents from exotic realms, and listen attentively to the birds’ announcing the coming Autumn.

This stillness is hard to create, that is, until the arrival of twilight. Then at the hush of night's edge, I find myself dropping whatever trajectory I was on (perhaps filling the hummingbird feeder, picking up firewood, or...) and I allow myself the gift of pause. I give myself the moment to inhale and feel stillness filling in the cracks of now.

I sit and lean back to listen, watch and feel. I feel the coolness of the night seeping in. I hear the last calls of the cardinals’ chirp, and the buzz of crickets. I smell the transition from late summer to autumn. Hurry melts from me just as quickly as it arrived. Night song begins.

Come, Linger with me now,
watch, with me the pink emerge
as sunset glides in.

Watch the changes of twilight slowly cover the sky
and then drip onto us, igniting our skin like a shimmering of light here on Earth.

I wrap you in this magic ~
And here, in this moment, we will drink tea, watch dragonflies, and sing and toast the night.

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"Gaze at the beauty of the green earth .... welcoming all that is earthly.
"There is music of Heaven in all things.

The Word is living, being, spirit, all verdant greening.
"All creativity" ~ Hildegard de Bingen

Today, my trail leads to the path of weeds.
And, Here they are!! I did not sow them. They appear. As masters of their gifts. I follow their clues to here, to a clearing of my thoughts and activities. And Here, to marvel. I have followed this path today, with weeds as my guide.

I do indeed enjoy the presence of weeds in my garden. I enjoy the discovery, the wonder, the exploring. And I enjoy the embracing of what can sometimes be an uncomfortable challenge, of allowing for the presence of these green visitors, who dwell right here, alongside of me!

Once discovered, I ponder, but never assume, why have you rooted here? What gifts do you bring? What mystery does your presence reveal? How do I create enough space for you?

For example, in the middle of my onion bed, a healthy crop of nettles arrived at the end of the season last year ~
Mmm. My dear friend nettle.
How did you find me so quickly?
Nonetheless, when I started to make room in the garden bed this Spring, they responded emphatically and with sharp stingings of my shins, exclaiming with extra fire, "I Belong Here!"

Ahh... OK.
I donned some gloves, then gently planted onions around the settled nettles. Once done, I watered the bed thoroughly as a gift. Now, Everyone is happy. Onion, Nettle and Catherine alike. That was a successful journey. Sometimes, though, like with the poke weed plant, I still have yet to negotiate the engagement. I am still learning.

I do not go to books and ask, "what does this mean?" Or "what should I do?" I sit and ponder.
I sense that with the visitors, by simply sitting, wandering around them, and watching, that they will teach me how to listen. In the face of mystery and the unknown, perhaps simply allowing for the messages of beauty to unfold helps us find the ways to embrace change. I see this practice, the one of allowing magic to reveal itself to me as a form of entrainment. I do find that the process changes me. The experience provides me a peek into the profound mystery of diversity, into the mystery of the wild.

We all feel uncomfortable in the face of the unknown, the different, the challenge, yet difference is where good medicine arrives. Change allows for creativity and growth. Brushing up against the stranger, inoculates and deepens the life of the observer.  

In that light, one might see the garden before you as a gift waiting to unfold, blossom and bloom; one might ask, what might be on the menu this day? Nettle soup? Lavender love? Mugwort mending?
The Making, Creating, and Alchemizing of wellness then becomes a co-creation with Spirit, plant and human.

I hope that I will learn from this medicine. I hope I do learn to appreciate the gifts of the wild magic before me. Ansel Adams believed that Life thrives in the wild, and that we all need a touch of it in our lives. I do too. All this written here, is what I like to contemplate. The weeds, the discomfort, the diversity, the contradictions, and the wild all within The Weeds.

And that contemplation reminds me of me. Like me, some things flourish better in some environments than others. Like me, weeds possess the living Word of spirit, like me Weeds reflect magic, wonder ~ we flourish and congregate, we sing and dance, laugh and make medicine. We share comfort and receive comfort. We offer medicine for cupboards and dreams for the soul. In the waxing of summer's growth, we and the weeds flourish, ebb and flow.

We all reflect the mysterious and contradictory perseverance of life.

I will continue to wander into my garden to watch how the plants unfold. How they initiate and respond to the environment in their many-layered conversations. I will notice how the dialogue between me and this garden persists. This dialogue reflects the mystery and effervescence of life.

The greening comes as a mysterious emissary of the possible,
Revealing memories beyond any linear understanding of reality.
Offering hints of our collective history and our possible future.
Bringing the scent of the strange, and unknown fruit.
All these gifts meld together in a cauldron of potential.

The wild unknown is a Welcome Weed in the garden
What wild potential will you plant today?

For more writings about local happenings, see Venus Muse~. The Solstice occurs on June 21, 11:30 East coast time. I will post something about Solstice on the Seasonal Happenings page soon too.

Happy New Moon, and Happy Summer and lots of love, ♥️

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I walk on Spring rainy days, when the colors vibrate clearest

days, like the ones we have today,

presenting in celebration and honor of life

offer more than words can describe.

in light of the gift of the ephermeral, I offer to you, my photos of the last few days here, on planet earth in rainy season,

inviting you to celebrate with me, the fairies, the rain and the trees of the wild hiding in plain view.

I celebrate the return of green, of buds, of moist, of dank, of fecundity, of possibility,

all present in exquisite beauty in Spring

who dances in her own rhythm, and tune ~


(See seasonal Photo page for more images)

Robins sing under a pink sky

Singing Praises for their days.
Singing of Robin thoughts and feelings. Singing of their Robin lives.
Leaving traces of melodic lace lingering in the air as the day changes.
Singing as poets of possibility, with light language streaming from their beaks with gentleness and peace.
Singing, as the Sun sings, about the solar tides, and vibrations,
singing as the trees sing about the tree creations and considerations.

In all this Here, in all this song, rides a swirling tide of thoughts and feelings from sentient beings about sentient experience, lapping on the shores of now, and through the atmosphere itself.
This swirl offers experiential installations of many-splendoured things.

Encouraging us to feel too.

All of creative force pouring beneath the pink sky.
To crack open and Feel.

What if,

What if Anything we call God or Goddess is actually the song that I hear at this moment? The song singing, now?
The pink, the praise, the trees,
the sun, the tides, the breeze,
the field, and mountain, all together?
The ebbing and flowing of life and song, the rising and the falling to compost? The light, the dark, and the moments in between, the cracking open?
Like now?
What if the creative force of life is that cracking open to life, from life when all of life allows God/goddess to feel and think themselves about themselves?
The many-hued song that plays all together - that that is the divine thinking the divine

A little of everything and every where right now, and right here.
a little of all that is, right now, right here.

the divine spark experiencing themselves in you, and showing you, you.

And you are

Right here, right now.

"Share these teaching when you meet someone
whose heart is vibrating
with the flow of love,
let your words and energies be as free

as your breath"

Insight Verse 157-9 from Radiant sutras

Thank you Jonas Emmanuel Fricke for many of these thoughts, impressions, expressions and more. A "poet of possibility" yourself
We shall remember your song

So much love

by Jonas Emanuel Fricke


I awoke before dawn, and felt a palpable difference in the air.
A difference that had nothing to do with the day of the Month.
I felt Spring. I can not say exactly how it felt, I do not what words to use to describe the sense.
I Can say the day felt Softer. I thought, "maybe this is the arrival of Spring."

For those who live in other parts of this earth, you might not know that snow still covers my gardens, several feet thick in some areas, ice graces the tops of puddles in the morning, and no frogs have emerged to sing through the evening. Even the trees are slow to bud, as seen in the fallen red maple twig in the photo above.

Yet, in this pre-dawn moment, the atmosphere, the scent, the sense all changed. A new sense presented itself through my yurt walls, as though the sentient trees could feel the earth's rising energies, and sang a new song, as though the summer birds fluttered in a new warmth giving the forest and me extra company, as though a wave of new elementals had arrived last night, ready to cozy up for the Spring revelries and musical entertainment, as if their presence warmed the the very air's vibrations.

And the change seemed to occur overnight

Usually, Spring arrives slowly here. I cherish that pace; the pace allows me to notice and savor each shift. Mud season bringing sweetest sap, Goldfinches singing their ways into our hearts. All while winter continues to blow occasional gusts and storms. And Usually, we hold court with winter beyond any imaginings of time ~ this allows me me sink into the gifts that the north winds brings ~ gifts of contemplation, deep healing, deep mysteries, perseverance, humor and patience.

It was only 4 days ago, after all, that a gentle snow fell overnight
covering the land tenderly and lightly.
Arriving like an easy breath
In and out, a gentle reminder of life continuing,
reminding me ~ we are here, still, breathing, even after great change.

And now, Spring. Overnight. The waters run stronger, the birds fly in mystical geometries ~ duets, lines, figure eights, and more. Hawks circle, geese in V's by the 1000s. And the singing has returned: songbirds fluttering and warbling, woodpeckers pecking and announcing their territories.

It is said that a forest is healthy with the presence of birds. The same must be true for me. With their presence and song I feel a weight lifted ~ from the air, the forest and from my heart.

Today, the wide spectrum of Spring arrives, dancing in many hues of lightness and on a wider and wider path. Spring arrives today bringing warmth and music.

Branches of tea from my home to yours. Roots reaching out and through the ethers, from my heart, to yours, connecting us where ever you are.

I offer another edition of the etheric tea party, hoping you can join me in celebration of our lives, of the our connections and of tea! Today, I offer a humble cup of ambrosia, knowing that with this post, the lines of connection spread like mycelium through the ethers, through the clouds of unknowing, and through the earth, connecting each and every one of us together via a ceremony of tea.

February, the month, I have offered the whimsical party in the past, is nearly over. This year, to create the gifts for this party, I gathered with friends to drink tea and share snacks, for laughter, creation, and art. To celebrate all that we have danced through, both together and apart. These brave travelers helped to make the cards in the photos below; they represent the vessels of our whimsy.

I dedicate this post to you, happy to drink deeply from this cup of life with you, and happy to have the chance to share this voyage of life on this Earth. Grateful that we have danced, laughed, cried and drunk tea together. And, if this post inspires more drawings of vessels of whimsy from you, please do share in the comments.

To life, to solace for all beings in this cosmos, and to togetherness, knowing that we are connected to all beings that we love, no matter how or what is the distance.

To you ~ to your health, to your laughter, your joy, and your heart magic.

Namaste, so much love ~


Glorious Slippery Mud

where ice, form and flow converge,
shifting us to new horizons.
where land, water and slip mingle,
creating primordial potions of possibility.

T'is the season.

The season appears quietly at first, in the small warm hallows, where the sunlight lingers longest, where dirt swells into a sublime oasis for shifting tides, and the road transforms into an oozing slide of mud. This venue resembles a cosmic sea of potential goo from which life will emerge once more like in a time forgotten a millennia ago. The shifting tides move the seasons forward, from what was, to what we will become.

The shifting tides move us forward too.

And like in any tide, we who float in it, will land elsewhere, slipping and sliding, whether we resist or flow. With the tides, we begin to change. Sometimes, through unexpected escapades, which help us to arrive at new unplanned places. Sometimes, arriving upended, and without solid footing. Sometimes, teaching us how to find stability in the midst of change. Always carrying us onward.

The tides arrive here, rising, shifting, recreating the land as we know it.

Also, quietly, the change arrives in the wind as well. I noticed this new sense while gathering firewood one day; I felt it in and as the mist of coolness rose off the snow, as the water seeped into the frozen crystals. I noticed a lifting in the breeze that moved me to a felt sense, like a perfume of memories, like a fragrance that lifted from a flower to color me, like an unforeseen freshness filling my lungs, like an aphrodisiac of scent, like a song from an ancient land.

A song that has been beckoning to us all, since before we were born. A song that we know in the core of our souls, to which we wish to sing; one that we hear lingering in a beautiful melody, or that we almost see out of the corner of our eyes, or try to glimpse between the twinklings of star-light, or see in the glittering sparkles of snowflakes on a crisp morning, or indeed sense rising out and from the misty morning vapors in the early Spring mornings, vapors that, like today, rise and float away on a breeze.

This realm is a mythical mystical place. Where there is always a quiet glade with a warm fire, where ancient trees wait for our arrival. It is a place that carries the promise of Spring flowers. A place of no-time when all is possible, and All is mingling and dancing together.

I lift my head as this breeze lazily wafts by, carrying the promise.

With the arrival of this felt sense, layers of cares fall from my shoulders, fall from the shoulders of the day, fall from time itself. This unlayering arrives with the tides rising from the Earth's belly, rising like sap in her veins, lifting the veils between the worlds. Between this world and the ancient one.

There is also, on this rising, a deep and profound silence. Even in the crinklings of snow melt, in the gurgling of cautious springs, there is a deep quiet. A silence that runs deeper than the gentle sounds, and puddles outward in ever-widening circles of creation.

Listen, take a pause, notice how the sound of quiet feels this week.
Does it sound deeper to you too?
Listen to the No time in this in-between moment, in this day.
Lift your eyes and hands. Welcome in the the silence.
This no-time is precious liminal space, like the season itself, a pause between Winter and Spring.

As the day progresses, the roads will shape-shift, into greater viscosity, only to return later in the day to some version of respectable solidity,
maybe, and appear not as they were, but as a project in process.

The toils of the day leave their traces in ruts, scars and wrinkles, like tea leaves left in the passage of time, telling tales of what was and what is yet to become..

As the season progresses, this road's solidity will in actuality, become quite dubious. Until there is one day, when all waters will break forth, leaving our paths awash with change.


I hear the water sprites laughing in the growing streams, I hear whispers in the mist that rises off the snow. I feel life rising in the limbs of the trees and I know soon, I will hear the conversations again between wind and forest in the evening's breath. I welcome this change keeping my sails oriented generally toward the visions granted in this no-time.

When breath is enough to fill the soul
when your smiles arrive, warming my heart.
When all is possible

Spring, by Leon Wyczółkowski


The sky holds the promise of snow today ~
A pink light at dawn, leading to a thickening of cloud-covers overhead. The growing sunshine, which graces us in January, and began this day, ebbs into a deepening. A rising wind will soon call forth the water gathered in these clouds. The very ones that suggest a great snow fall is a-coming.

This possibility, this promise excites me. When the snow falls, I sense a presence, one I can glimpse with the contrast in light and dark, like when the trees hold a background tableau, or the frosty tree tips glow, or the snow lands, covering large swaths of land, transforming what was yesterday, into something new.

Like emissaries, the snow arrives with import, individual expression, and in various languages. Some snows blow sideways, on a wind blown free from the ocean, miles away. Others spiral in intricate patterns in response to eclectic celestial music. And Always the lightness of the snow contrasts the darkness of the treetrunks and branches. All these snowfalls contain a palpable conversation, offered in their unique language. Saying, convening meanings and feelings on their path to landing. Ones that I hope to receive.

I love to watch how the water, air, trees and sun will interact in this felt presence. How they create a conversation like no other, like one between friends. I feel riveted to listening to and witnessing this music and dance, as if all this might teach me something about this thing called being alive, this moment of life,
about me, about you.

I seek to touch this consciousness.

As spirals of white descend in deepening spirals, tree roots, trunks and limbs reach upward in an ascending patterns unique to themselves ~
A continuous flowing stream of conversation and movement.
Myriad threads of moonlight and earthlight interweave in descending and ascending patterns
building a deepening sense of wonder and miracles,
Building a dance of opposites,
creating something new, something ne'er seen before.

The unnameable mixing with and into solid form

I started this post with the desire to find words to "capture" the essences of snow. I hoped I would find a name to give to the snow, that I could be as literate as the Inuit who knew the names of their relations that came in the winter falls.

By the end of this post,
I have surrendered to, come to acceptance of not knowing.
I have found my emptying out of my names and categories, of words and structure, of definable. I understand, in doing so, I have come closer to conveying the sense of the unknowable. I find in this surrender a greater felt sense of the beauty and vastness within the ephemeral, and eternal.

Indeed, within me exists a desire to Understand. To Define, to Describe.
And within me there is also the wise knowing to release all those efforts and witness with compassion to the unfolding. The wise knowing mixes with the mind, just as the earthlights and moonlights mix on the breath of snow, a knowing and unknowing, a spiraling dance

Lovely and ever-changing.

Sun will break through the clouds after this snow,
illuminating with impossible brightness.

"We lose when we try to control;
we gain divinity when we surrender." Laurie Herron

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"Keep the Force, especially through the ionic vibrancy of the ocean's atmosphere
and the green full energy of the forest" Advice Anonymously given

I wake today, on the first of the year
and ask, "what can I do for you today, dear Earth?"
Both today, and this whole year?

I notice, the sun, shining with new found brightness, white light reflecting brilliantly off the ice and other precious areas that preserve water. These spots are hollows and depressions, indentations and contours, places that hold water like prayers, places waiting to express their dreams.

The Elementals permeate the day as well, showing up in their flowy ways, bringing fog, mist, showers and rain; they arrive dancing on the edges of the water and melts; they slide over the frost heaves, and crevasses; they cover the underness. Water reigns and soothes in this in-between place. I feel in between myself today.
I've heard the term "undines" as a way to describe these watery elementals. I like that name.

The crunchy earth thaws and heaves in the changing temperatures of January's weather, resulting in ice mounds and meltings, crevasses and maws. The shifting terrain encourages one to remember to slow down the step.

As I step, the soil feels raw in this fragile transition. The Earth feels not ready for Spring, yet.

And Nor are we, nor are we.
Breathe, dear body; breathe, pause, wait, watch, wonder, suppose, play, dream and believe. And then wait some more.

Soon kind winter will bring days of snow and cold again, enfolding the earth in a gentle embrace, allowing the pregnancy of transformation to continue quietly, and unseen. This embrace allows us all to ready for the Spring within to emerge.

Today, for the Earth, I will listen. I will notice. I will walk.
I will pick up discarded pieces of the puzzle and set them right. I will stay present to what I witness. I will hold hands with myself and other; I will hold hands with the in-between places and feelings.

As a piece of the Earth, a fabric of her tapestry, I also will pay attention to this body ~

For my body - I offer gentleness and attention

For my mind ~ wonderment

For my heart ~ flowers

For my Spirit ~ Breath.

What will it be for you today?

The blue green color of the earth glows bright and then turns to deep turquoise in my mind's eye.
Turquoise deepens and brings in new solutions with new visions emerging in the coming Spring.