out like a lion

a sultry silver sky and the forecast suggest that this last day of may is going to be a doozy. severe storms are predicted - the kind with winds over 60 miles an hour and golf ball size hail. and, as the weather man cheerfully reminded us all a few days ago, storm severity does not include lightning severity... so along with hail and the wind, i can expect buddy to try and climb up onto my lap anytime i sit down.

i've already weeded as many of the gardens as my knee will allow. after i ice it a few minutes, im going out to harvest the chamomile that's ready. the scent of apples it gives off is heavenly. i hate the thought of hail crushing my poor little buds.

today will be a good day to play catch up around the house... both girls are home and bored. buddy is already pacing and whining and looking nervous... he knows a storm is coming hours before it gets here.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

pounding the pestle

there's nothing like playing with a mortar and pestle to make you feel like a witch. okay - there's nothing like playing with a mortar and pestle that makes ME feel like a witch. particularly when its smashing up eggshells to nourish my garden. my dear friends rose and ruth gave me some advice on how to deal with the ants invading my thyme garden - ruth suggested asking them to go away, and rose suggested a sugar-salt-eggshell combination to both nourish the soil AND make the suggestion more potent.

i decided to leave out the salt. sowing the ground with salt raises unhappy memories of latin class - the romans sowed the soil of carthage with salt after they destroyed everything to make sure nothing else could grow there. and without the salt, the ants don't need sugar.

so im brewing up my eggshells - libby wondered why we had breakfast for dinner every night this week - adding a bit of old dried comfrey i found at the bottom of my herb chest, as well as a bit of cinquefoil to strengthen the concoction times five. im letting it simmer and then i'll dilute by a few watering cans full of water.

then i'll add it to the thyme and the other herb beds... and very strongly ask the ants to please take their colonies Somewhere Else - like, say, anywhere on the other side of the ponds.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

on the mend

my knee, after much rest, ice, and elevation - with a lot reiki, and some salt baths thrown in - feels at least sixty percent better. it only twinges when i walk - more or less normally, and the stabbing pains shooting up and down my leg when i try to go up and down stairs are far less acute than they were.

ive already given it one ice-salt bath-reiki-ice treatment. i'm having a massage today and i must remember to tell my dear friend rose that her white-willow ginger-root tonic she made for my mother (who refused to try it) made a wonderfully soothing brew, especially with a few dried wild blueberries blended in.

and i will miss class... alas.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

nod to my knees

yesterday afternoon, while attempting to steam clean the carpet where buddy vomited last week, i felt something funny in my knee. not a good funny, but not a horrible funny either. just a twinge that made me think... oh, that's not good.

it was sore, but not so sore i didn't go to class.

alas.

my poor left knee is done in.

i've iced it twice this morning, and had a hot salt bath. while sitting in the tub, i made sure i thanked both my knees, as well as my feet, my ankles and my lower legs, for the amazing job they so effortlessly do, holding up the rest of me, while bending and flexing at will. i don't spend a lot of time thinking about my lower extremities, unless some part complains. and then, i realized, its the quickest fix possible, and on to the next adventure. but really, is that how *I* like to be treated, when i feel sick?

a big piece of the angel's way of eating messages have to do with self-love and self-acceptance, which includes accepting our own limits. and limits aren't something i accept easily - in anyone, or in any situation.

so today im taking care of my knees. i have another ice bag chilling, i have plenty of epsom salts. im putting it up, im resting it, im giving it lots of reiki. today, rather than the other way round, i am bending to the will of my knees.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

happy birthday, laura rose

shortly after i moved in with Beloved, i discovered that right around the corner from my house, the universe had most thoughtfully provided a source of inspiration, knowledge and understanding.

the name of this place was the purple rose and the person who owned it was a little woman with curly dark hair and big brown eyes, eyes that even then i noticed looked alarmingly like mine.

laura needed customers. i needed books. it was, as they say, a match made in Heaven.

looking back, over the last five years or so as our friendship has grown, i realize now that Heaven must have had a hand in it. there are people, who, when i met them for the first time, i have felt a kind of unmistakeable recognition... a resonance like a chime within my soul. oh, there you are...i hear.

my dear friend lorraine was one. Beloved was another.

and laura is a third. i think we were siblings in other lifetimes, quite possibly even twins. Prodded, nudged and nurtured as i've been along my path, laura has been beside me, every step of the way. we've been mistaken for sisters, for cousins, for lesbian lovers.

today is her birthday. it's a big one... a threshold birthday, as i think of them - one of the ones that has come to signify a transition from one stage of life into another. fortunately for laura, it's one i've already crossed, and as she said, i make approaching fifty look easy. we're going out to lunch, even though today is gray. i cant wait to hear what she thought of my angel workshop. i hope she likes her present.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

in memoriam

"in flander's fields, the poppies grow... "

i can hear my parents' voices, one overlain upon the other, reciting those lines to me and my brother. my parents - both of them - read poems to us from an anthology that included the works of poets who ranged from chaucer and shakespeare, to donne and marvel, to ae houseman, blake, yeats, poe, kipling, kilmer and hughes.

i had no idea what the poem meant of course, but we called my great grandfather "poppy" and so the word hooked in my mind. i remember my father and mother trying to explain that it wasn't rows of old men growing in those faraway fields, but flowers. i think they left out the part about the tombstones.

i figured that part out myself when i was a freshman in high school and encountered a similiar poem in the same vein. this time i was studying latin and was able to translate the final line - dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, as "it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country."

but in the poem, that line is called "the old lie."

according to my father, my irish grandmother's family, the moylans, arrived in the mid 18th century - early enough in the life of the young country to establish themselves as gentleman farmers and merchants by the time of the revolution, and i may count general stephen moylan, who endured the winter at valley forge with washington, as one of my grandfathers.

i am not yet so much a pacifist that i dont believe that there are causes worth fighting for. my uncles and great uncles - on both sides of my family - all served in world war two. but i do not believe that i disgrace their memories or their acheivements to say that i am proud that not a drop of any blood directly linked to mine has been spilled in either viet nam or this ongoing disgrace in iraq.

i bought a poppy yesterday, from a veteran - a man old enough to my great-uncle. i said thank you as i stuffed my dollar in his box. it occured to me that the poppy is the opium flower... and in the image of the red poppies, the white crosses, i saw an interesting juxtaposition of dreams and death and sleep and illusion i hadn't seen before.

i think it is a lie that it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country. countries are artifical things, carved up men or accident of geography, recognized only by our self-created conventions of culture and time. the struggle of an individual or a group of individuals against tyranny, on the other hand, is a struggle that transcends cultures and conventions, and carries across time.

when the individual sacrifices his life for a universal cause - something that benefits the good of all beings - his life is not given in vain. but when individuals are deluded and seduced into giving their lives for something made up only by men... like a country... a revolution is called for.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

eating... the angel way

my first workshop went well. it helped, of course, that i did it before an audience of people i generally know, love and respect.

a funny thing happened about an hour before it was time to start. i was tidying up my writing room, and wondering when the angels might be arriving.

i distinctly heard the doorbell ring. Beloved was downstairs, cleaning up the chairs. i didn't understand why he'd be ringing the doorbell, though it was certainly possible he'd locked himself out. but i distinctly remembered unlocking the door that morning...

so i went downstairs. there was no one at the back door, and Beloved was busily engaged in his cleaning.

why'd you ring the doorbell, i asked, as i tested the knob to see if it was locked. (it wasn't.)

i didn't ring the doorbell, Beloved replied.

you didn't? i asked again. you're not locked out?

of course not, he answered. the door was wide open.

it's nice to know the angels are not only punctual, but polite.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

satisfying saturday

i spent four hours in the gardens today - two hours this morning, and now two more this afternoon. the beds are mulched and weeded, the flowers potted at the back door. its still too cold to think too much about herbs, and im hoping my dear friend has some ideas as to what to do about the ants who've moved into my thyme beds. i even got the zen garden weeded, and the sweet annie bed raked out.

libby cleaned out my car (remuneration is appreciated, she reminded me. four times.) we went grocery shopping, for the angel workshop tomorrow. i found some lovely chocolate. the hand outs are complete, the notes are done. i have some tidying up to do, but otherwise, the house is clean and i just need to print the handouts.

i sent debby two chapters of rigged and i have a third nearly finished. the new book is coming along, but marsia is on hold. now, i need a nap.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be!

fabulous friday

my right hip is amazingly better. my left quadriceps is strained. i had trouble kicking last night, raising my leg above the level of my hip was hard, and got harder. when i came home, i took a salt bath and iced it the rest of the night. today i intend to rest and ice it, and i may even break down and take an ibuprofen.

i'd like to go to the krav class tomorrow.

sunday is my first eating...the angel way workshop, a sort of preview that i am offering to friends and other healers who may be interested enough to get the word out.

the new story is coming along well, though i have to resist reading too much history, too much of the "real story." there's conflicting myth and no one knows when it "really" happened. So there is no real story, i have to keep telling myself. there's only the one we make up.

and that's my "story," and i'm sticking to it. (;) rose.)

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

the risks of writing

this morning, the first blog i read happened to be from one of my aol friends (LGVernon) announcing the publication of her first novel TOMORROW. (The Wilderness Road - set in the post-Civil War West - i have to order a copy for my mother the civil war buff.)

although she's proud and happy, she's also mostly scared. that's how i felt when my first novel was published - as though i'd taken all my clothes off and was dancing naked on a billboard. i can't say that feeling has ever gone completely away. each story demands that i strip away another layer, peel off another piece, mine another vein. the process of writing has taken me deeper and further into my own unconscious than i have ever wanted to go.

it is the doorway for everything else, so the compensations are great. but it is always an act of courage for me, on some level, to write, because i never really know what demons will rise, what monsters will creep, what truth will inevitably spill its guts across the screen.

just yesterday, the first bisexual character i have ever created stepped out of the shadows and into the story. it is the first time this piece of myself stands so revealed. my bisexuality is not something i ever talk about - to anyone, anywhere. it's always there, i think, in the way my left-handness is there - but most people don't notice. or maybe it's just i don't think they do. :)

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

thorough thursday

i didn't make it to killer yoga. my hip - due to ministrations and manipulations of a chiropractor, a massage therapist, a cranial-sacral therapist and a personal trainer - actually only twinged now and again, and when libby started whining that she didn't feel like going, i decided it was a signal from the universe to Rest.

i was tired from cleaning up dog vomit. there was a spectacular thunderstorm going on, too, that felt like the first summer storm. i opted to cuddle with libby on the couch and then annoy her by calling out jeopardy answers.

this morning i have a dentist appointment (shudder), and then myriad chores to make sure my day is clear tomorrow, so laura and i can go visit her mother.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

worrisome wednesday

for the second morning in a row, i woke up to dog vomit. buddy, otherwise known as mister buddy love, all 100 loveable, luggable pounds, has been throwing up for the last twenty four hours.

im pretty sure he has to just get whatever it is out of his system - he's not lethargic, just hurt at being kept penned up. he's drinking and peeing and pooping normally. but i guess a call to the vet is in order, and maybe the hibiscus tree my sister gave me for mother's day should go live at Beloved's office.

i went to the cosi-girls' book group. it was good to see the ladies, and next month they are discussing one of my all-time favorite novels in the world - a prayer for owen meany. so i sure don't want to miss THAT.

i not only survived my first krav class, i liked it. Beloved is impressed to no end at my endurance. i mostly punch like a girl, but im getting it. as chris the krav instructor reminded me, no one's ever taught me how.

i hope Beloved follows through on his promise to get himself a punching bag like they have at the gym for father's day.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

tumultous tuesday

so i survived... not just a day that began at 430 am... but my first krav class. yeah, im sore, and yeah, i ache,.... but it's a good ache, a good sore. tomorrow i plan to stick much closer to home...my characters are callng.

merry monday

today was busy. it started off with a two hour folding and stamping and stapling and sticking marathon with laura - we have a mailer to get out announcing my new angel workshop and support group, and her new psychic development circle. i think both of us are pretty excited about it, and what's wonderful is the way they dovetail together.

i wanted to stop at our favorite tea shop, but it was pouring rain, and so i opted to come home and nap before tackling any other projects. but i managed to get the laundry done, dinner cooked, and all the zone work finished before kickboxing... at which class i did SIXTY SIX pushups.

tomorrow i have another busy day - and possibly my first krav class... assuming i wake up tomorrow and can walk.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

sleepy sunday

i think my favorite month, if i had to pick one, would have to be may. the sun is warm, the air is - here in connecticut, at least - still crisp enough at night to make snuggling fun if not strictly necessary, the days are long and full of the kind of promise only possible in spring.

the gold light, the green wet grass, the birds all beckoned me out to the gardens where the weeds are beginning their annual riot. whatever leap i had on them, they are rapidly gaining ground. i heard them snickering at me as i trudged from garden to garden.

this may brings a second full moon in scorpio, a one-two punch of tough love incarnate that calls me out, into the gardens, to dig my hands in the soil of all that i am rooted in, to pull out the weeds and address the pests. mercury is in its home sign of gemini, encouraging open communications.

but despite all good intentions, after just an hour, the afternoon turned chilly and gray again. i saw it as a clear invitation to snuggle up on the couch, go to bed early and let the waxing moon shine through an early summer's night's dream.

in the afterglow of forest folk

i roped meg into coming along with me to the second day of forest folk. laura and i had considered setting up a table, for which we needed accoutrements, like chairs and a table cloth. but once we arrived, laura suggested we make do with a blanket - it was much sunnier and drier today. so we did. laura read a few cards, meg read a book, i mostly talked.

i think my workshop was well-received - its one of my favorites, any way - and i heard a lot of people say they were going to laura's. i reconnected with an old friend who'd disappeared off my radar screen, my dear friend rose gifted me with a beautiful purple handmade spirit cord with a pentacle attached. i met a lovely couple from vermont, whose handmade rope sandals looked very comfy and definitely bear a second look, given the tattered state of my birkenstocks. it wasn't a long visit, but it felt very far away.

i came home to a clean house. meg and libby are off to a prime rib dinner - their reward - and i'm waiting for word of Beloved, who went off to learn to how to fend off attacks from those wielding sticks, knives and guns. a turkey breast is roasting in the oven, i have sweet potatoes and purple onions and fresh broccoli to go along with it.

as we were leaving the festival today, i asked meg what she thought of it. she paused, gave me a long look and said... well, mom, im glad you have people.

here's to my peeps. long may you frolic.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

post three-oh-one

that's the number of this post. it's ironic that today im going to give a talk on tree wisdom at the forest folk festival in oxford, ct. three and one, in combination, have always been magical numbers to me.

my birthday is the 31st, i have 3 girls and 1 boy. baby jake was born on 13th, my eldest daughter's birthday is 10-30. my father's birthday is 03-01. threes and ones appear frequently in various combinations in other places throughout my life, including the three holly trees which were planted on the day i was born.

it pains me immeasurably to think that i am the one who will sign the documents that take them out of my family forever, that may, on some level, seal their death warrants. only two of the original three are left, and that missing tree was the prettiest of them all. i will miss them greatly when they are gone.

when i was a little girl, my favorite story of all was called The Little House, by Virginia Lee Burton. i can still hear my mother reciting the story to me, as we turned the pages over and over. it's a story about a little house built originally far out in the country, around which a big city grows.

the story of the little house ends happily, for the great great grandson of the man who originally built the little house comes and finds it, and moves it, far out again, into the country. there will be no such happy ending for my grandmother's house, nor, i fear, my holly trees.

the realtor called the other day - there's a couple interested who've come to see the house three times now, and the third time, they brought an architect. he has high hopes an offer will be coming soon.

my only wish is that they let my hollies live.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

blessings on a dismal day

yesterday, i woke up scared and cranky. i had a dentist appointment and dentists scare me... the way some people are scared of spiders and snakes. to make matters worse, my teeth, like the rest of me, appear to have become inordinately sensitive.

the gray weather perfectly matched my mood, as did the dog poop i had to clean up first thing - fortunately in the laundry room, this time, on the tile.

but i am happy to say, the day improved steadily from there - the dentist was a kind, gentle man who insisted i call him dave, his assistant took the time to deaden my gums with some sort of topical anesthetic. i wasn't too sore afterward, and i was able to reward myself at mickey d's.

libby had a half day, so i picked her up at school. we went shopping for birthday presents for respective friends, and i was able to further reward myself with a new vera bradley bag.

the day ended well with a brutal workout, a concert at libby's school, and a hot salt bath. today laura and i are driving down to Forest Folk Festival in oxford... to read tarot cards, give a workshop or two, and hang out with kindred spirits. if the rain holds off, that is.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

no greater love

people should actually be required to pass tests, i think, before the State or anyone else gives them a license to marry. and one of the tests should be the survival of a home renovation project. one of the reasons i married Beloved was because the summer after i moved into Pond House, we renovated the kitchen. since we were still willing to talk to each other and sleep together at the end of the four month project, i figured the relationship had legs.

now we are about to embark on another grand project, even grander, really, if one is counting square footage. we are about to enlarge our kitchen, and turn our three-season deck -which currently serves as dog pen and catch-all - into real, live, actual liveable, useable space. it will give me a kitchen more than twice the size of the one i've got now, a garden window, three times the cabinet space, and even, possibly, a room just for eating... which will enable so many more possibilities in the current living/dining room combination we have now.

that is, if Beloved and i don't kill each other first.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.

this happy golden day

i had a wonderful mother's day. the sun shone, i was showered with cards, flowers, and compliments. the food was good all but for the ham, which was a tad fatty, and the chocolate cake, which came out a bit dry. i was surprised - i found the recipe in the joy of cooking which usually is quite reliable. i might've overbaked it... i was a tad distracted when i baked it. but the other cake, also from the joy, came out really well.

this is a good thing - since im bringing a smaller version of it, and a gift over to my grandmother today. i haven't been to see her in two weeks - and of course she complained to my mother that i NEVER come. (never mind she's seen more of me in the last nine months than she has in the last nine years.) but mama pele must be appeased... i think i will bring her some bananas and sprinkle a little coconut on top of her cake.

today is gray and chilly - a good day to unwind, come down and tidy up. tonight is also kickboxing. this is the first week since starting this regimen that i have time to do all three classes. may goddess have mercy on my soul.

and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.