Tuesday, April 26, 2011


Our willow has been working on bitsy green-sunflake leaves
and leans away in the winds

I am that willow that bends
but never breaks

that is delicate and sturdy

that takes the hand of the cornflower sky
and bows to the soft earth

~in honor of the spirit that I share with our very old, giant willow ~

Monday, April 25, 2011

in between

Here I am tonight, so so tired, and I keep starting again and again because I'm so darn tired. That'll happen when you knock back a pint (as I'm doing right now) and lay in a comfy bed covered by your down comforter. That'll also happen when you've spent every available moment cramming more and more into the day until you realize you really just need to STOP and shave your armpits once in awhile, sheesh. That'll also happen when you've spent all Saturday working hard hard hard on your new chicken coop, making make-do fixes all over the place. I had so much fun with that! Listen, dear readers, I've had a few of those moments where I stop working and notice that I'm smiling so hard my face is hurting, and the air is clean and cool and the grass is long and the pipes are chick-chick-chicking in the neighbor's pasture, the old yellow dog "Archie" keeps coming by for a pet before he snuffles off under this and that fence (it all belongs to HIM, I see) and life is just so gosh darned good. That tires me out, in a really good way. My arms felt good while they were working. My legs felt good to be working. My fingers ached to twist and pull the bent-up chicken wire. I tackled the cobwebs and what-nots in the old windows and corners. I was tickled to gasping at the blessing of finding some old glass egg among one of the nesting boxes.
While we've sold our other house, we still haven't closed on this one, but we've decided to go ahead and live in our trailer while we wait for Thursday to come. Rosemary, our sweet lady who called our farm "home" before we got to, said "Sure thing." so, hoooooray!!!
Last night, the wind was whipping across the farmland and the rain was pelting down, and if felt so nice to be on OUR FARM, even if we were in our camp trailer (and even if our camp trailer is for spoiled people), that it all just made me feel good. The sunrise was watery and pink with a little floating bit of lemon in it and that made my tummy clench up at the thought of a sunrise every morning.
We've brought all four kitties tonight, and my dearest made the best house for them in one of our numerous out-buildings here. It is the best spot of them all - insulated for winter months. It has some very wide shelves that I know they'll love. Think of all the mousey heads they'll bring us (I'm sorry to say that Seal and Lilo are the best mouser/birder/squirreler/chipmunkers there are, and they always bring us the head...how...errrr...sweeeet. (I really do try to be grateful; one should never offend a cat, especially when she is trying so hard to be selfless.)
There has to be new flooring throughout our house before we can live in there, and I've already picked out exactly what I want. How exciting - even though it is on a painfully small budget, I am grateful we can do it at all. What a blessing.
I have so much to say, but I really need time to take pictures for you all. Soon, hopefully!

Monday, April 18, 2011

never felt busier...

We've got plans to get up early to go to work, then jet to the house,
then zoom to our new old farm and clean clean clean until it is bedtime, then
drive drive drive back to our house again,
While I am all for it, cause I am SOOO excited to be living in our little farm house,
I'm pooped, and it is only Monday!
I can't wait to share some before and after photos with you!!
Our little house is awfully dirty and needs plenty of elbow grease right now.

I wish I knew where I got that photo at the top, but I'm living my spare minutes these days inside of books with ideas and colors and decorating that I love, and this picture is one of my inspirations right now.
**note: duh. I got the picture from Nancy Fishelson! I'm so inspired by her decorating.

On another note, dear Sarah has asked me about my relationship with the saints, and I'll be honest, at the risk of upsetting anybody who has an entirely different relationship with them and feels I'm not treating them right.
The truth is, is that I use to be a staunch Baptist Christian.
But that did not suit me in so many ways, that I sluffed it off like a too tight dress and let the many colors of the sky fill my bones like sunset was occurring in my marrow. I became a wanderer and a seeker and found that where my feet wanted to be planted was straight down in the earth like the big roots of a tree; my arms lolling about in the clouds and golden afternoon sun, or the rain and wind and dark grey fluffs in the open spaces between East and West.
I've studied many ways, and hear the truth as a silver thread running through them all.
I envision the goddess/god as a many faceted crystal. You know those roundish ones that you can hang in your window, which truly is not round, but has a hundred-something little flat sides breaking up the light into rainbow confetti all over your walls and floors? Well, I imagine that god is really like this. That if we are small, one of those sides that we might encounter, could well-be the only view of god we've ever known, or been taught: "This is God children." Someone, also tiny, is standing at another space along the sphere and is seeing one side and deciding that God is this and this, but never this or that. Terrible things happen when each of those tiny people thinks that their side is the ONLY side that gives the truth about why we are here and about who is caring for us.
The thread I've found is that each side is really talking about the same being...I do not care what face or gender or number you put on this Spirit...it is the SAME to me.
So, now, after time studying ancient Pagan religions and seeing how the early Catholic church borrowed SO many of the Pagan celebrations and gods and goddesses and made them into "holy days" and saints, I see that thread again: new names, same underlying spirit.
I came at the saints quite backwardly. I have never been Catholic, but I love Catholic ritual and prayers and the need for the physical feel of what you are creating in the spiritual realm. I adore candles and incense and offerings and ritual. It comforts me. It makes me understand that I am actually changing things and doing something while I'm waiting for my prayers to be answered.
I ADORE Saint Brigid - who was FIRST and foremost a Celtic Goddess.
I pray to Mary - who is a perfect avatar to me of the Mother Goddess herself.
Saint Therese, the "little flower", inspires me to gentleness.
lately, Saint Joseph has given me the strength to forge ahead with my dreams of a little farm
Saint Hildegard of Bingen reminds me that the gifts I am given, and the passion with which I faithfully use them, is in turn a gift to those around me.
Saint Theresa gives me the strength to deal with myself in kindness.
I have a soft spot for Saint Francis - I just love those statues of him with a bird in his hand

I know for sure, that a Catholic would tell me that I should not pray to a Saint, but I should ask him or her to pray FOR me. I just don't ascribe to it. I think that Saints, or anyone else for that matter, are reflections of a Great Spirit who just wants us to LOVE each other to the fullest.
Can you imagine what that would look like? If you truly loved every single person and they in turn loved every single person, would you care to whom or what they prayed? No.
I know that my God/Goddess listens to me and hears me and answers me, whether I am calling out to that aspect of him/her that is Buddha, or Jesus, or the Virgin Mary, or the Green Man, or Hestia, or Brigid, or Hecate or Saint Francis...it really doesn't matter to me...The Great Spirit that I believe in, that makes me feel like a loved child, a confident mother, a heard wife, a LOVING HUMAN BEING
embodies all those aspects in one way or another

and in my estimation
I truly appreciate you asking, Sarah. It is good to get my beliefs down so I can see them. I've written it so many ways, so many times for myself, but to articulate it again and again helps me to understand the things I only just feel the edges of at times.

Friday, April 15, 2011

too busy

with moving and teaching and being mama and wife and going to bed at 8:30 at night (hooooray!) and watching the Dick Van Dyke show before I get there and dishes and dreaming...yes just too busy to be taking many pictures these days...

but I know that in the next week or two I will be living in my old humble little farmhouse with a sunset and a sunrise and a rock cellar and that wonderful red and white barn...

and I'll be taking more and more pictures and sharing my everyday farm happenings with you...
I have so much to be thankful to Saint Joseph for - not a saint I normally turn to, but we prayed and prayed for our house to sell and for us to find our forever home and Saint Joseph pulled through. I figured I could trust such a careful loving father and carpenter to help us sell our home and find a new one...I also prayed to Hestia, because I figured I could trust a goddess who is dedicated to the hearth and the home...I prayed to the moon because she was there, and often I prayed through my tears into my teacup saying, "Oh god please..."...so there is MUCH to be thankful for.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

a worthy pastime

Song of the Builders

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God -

a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside

this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope

it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

~Mary Oliver

Saturday, April 09, 2011


My favorite Spanish word is querencia.
Querencia is a place where one feels secure.
It is a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn.
In Spain, it is the place in the ring where the wounded bull goes to renew his strength and center himself, ready to go again.
I think of people who are able to come from a place of comfort from within themselves wherever they are, and I wonder at why I am not that kind of person.
Where I am at, physically, in this world, matters to me.
Being in the warm embrace of the sky and the grasses, old trees and barns, animal sounds and slamming backdoors...these things tell me who I am. They are the place from which I may speak my deepest beliefs about life and where I belong.
I grew on a farm. I found a warm center there.
When I left home to go to college, I sought out other's farms to sit near. When I felt homesick, I went for a walk and talked to the cows and watched the farmers tending their crops. I longed to hear the dirt being turned and to feel the wind across the wheat, bringing with it the smells of home, but it was only a whisper of what I needed.

I've been longing for it for as many years as I've been away from it.
What I did not say, was that our little dream farm, complete with red barn, was almost taken away from us this last week. But was graciously, given back by someone else, completely and utterly out of love and kindness. I do not know how to thank such generosity but to love that home from top to bottom when I finally get there.

My center, is coming.