Nature

I love walking thru fall leaves.

Not just walking thru them, but really kicking them up into the air, like wanting to see them fall again and again – to float gently down, swaying this way and that, living a little poetry for a minute, something myriad generations before had admired and enjoyed.

Birds singing, trickling water, crickets humming – I’ve found these sounds to be powerfully healing.

I use muscle testing, also known as kinesiology, to see the healing power of sounds, measured on a scale of 1 to 10.

The crows, the hawks and the sparrows all – all birds – the peacock, the gentle “cooaw cooaw” of the chicken – these all give a power of 10 healing sound.

And trickling water too. I am always drawn to tickling water, in a fountain, in a brook – so meditative, so healing.

Out of the blue came the hoot of an owl.

Sometimes this happens in my back yard. Sometimes in my neighborhood. Sometimes I think it follows me.

It was a very pleasant surprise - three long, slow, low hoots. A pause, then it repeated. A pause again, then it repeated again.

It calls up in me the feeling of the deep woods. Where there are wise animals, knowing old, huge oaks, and the feel of soft, moist dirt underfoot.

The woods are alive with mystery and quiet surprise. At any moment there could appear a deer, a chipmunk, or a giant, black crow.

Garden life began for me at the age of 12. When my mother worried she was so busy she might not get her dahlias planted, I volunteered for the job. I seldom volunteered for chores on our busy family farm, but, even then, the magic of these flowering plants had me under their spell. Dahlias grow from thick, elongated roots called tubers that we dug each fall and stored for the winter. By springtime the gnarly clumps were like shriveled starfish, testing one’s faith any life could be left in those dusty, wrinkled remains.

One day I went outside and saw mushrooms everywhere. Not only was the yard absolutely full of mushrooms, but they were all so different from each other. It’s like elves and fairies were celebrating there in the night before.

Some were large and off-white. Some were small and orange. Some were dark, dark brown, thin and tall. Some were white with an orange ring at their edge. Some were tiny and delicate, the size of a dime. Colony upon colony of each kind.

There was a huge 8 inch mushroom. There were colonies of bright yellow sprouts, just stems forming, of young mushrooms.

Do you recognize that sound?
Can you hear it?
Listen
The sounds of nature
There all around us
Can you figure it out?
It’s like life
Can you figure it out at times?
When you don’t understand
Can you trust?
Do you have faith?
Do you have the faith enough to know all is well?
To embrace each day, the gift of your life
To find the joy, happiness and the peace in solitude
Or out there amongst others
I hope you can hear the sound and recognize it
It’s all around us all the time

After the storm
The sounds of the dripping ice from the trees
The crunch of the snow being chipped away
The traffic zooming by splashing snow on the pedestrians
Not with a caring thought of who is getting slushed upon
Ah, winter the cold, the brisk, the sun, the light
The weather changing
The weather warming up
The weather warming down
It’s like a tease
Oh, Spring is here
Yet the sun and the birds are chirping
But then Oh old woman winter comes out
It is below zero again

Coincidence, synchronicity, what really the cause of that
The power of thought
The law of attraction
My friend Bruce and Richard were over my home today as we were working
on our project
Bruce was telling the story of a big tree
He thinks you should get the proper permission to take them down
How they should not be taken down
They have their rights to be on the planet
He was making a point for the environment and nature

I started to chuckle I said

I really enjoy looking at tree bark - the whorls and swirls of bark as it moves up the trunk of the tree. It overlaps like house shingles. And it eddies around limbs and around the stumps of fallen limbs. You see the tree holes, and the flow of the bark around them.

The patterns are mesmerizing, like watching water that is stopped.

It really seems like something is written on the tree, by the tree, over and over again.

And when a vine climbs the tree, it is even more beautiful, especially in the autumn when the vine turns red.

I love working with beets – whole, leafy, bushy beets.

Everything about them leaves this deep, ruby tint. As you rinse the giant green leaves, the red stalks look like rhubarb and tint the water red. As they drip on the steel sink, the droplets look luminescent over the cool, silver blue.

If you hold a leaf up to the light, so the sun shines thru, the leaf is a gorgeous, vibrant yellow green, contrasted with the crimson stem system running thru the leaf.

The leaves taste great raw.