Clea Danaan's Intuitive Gardening Blog

Shifting the Energy of the House

2009-12-29T11:08:00.003-07:00

"You know," I said to my husband while he played Bejeweled on the office computer, "if we put the bed on that wall and the dresser here we could put our room in here."

He glanced at me nervously. I get this feeling every now and then where I must rearrange things. Usually it's just the couch or a table. This time I was talking about flipping two rooms. The internet cable. A huge heavy desk. Book shelves. He's less than thrilled when I move around the contents of a room, something I've done since childhood; when I start moving whole rooms he gets downright freaked out.

"Why?" he said cautiously.

"Because the office would fit better in our room. It would be nice to have our room closer to the bathroom and the office off the kitchen. It would be cozy in here, but... it would work."

I started to get excited. I began to picture the soft white curtains in our "new" room. The kids' art table under the window in our "new" office. I spent the day convincing him. I bribed him with a shoulder rub if he'd go down in the (gross dusty spider-infested) crawl space to figure out the internet cable situation. Finally he agreed, saying he actually liked the idea. If not of moving stuff, of having it all moved.

Long, boring, dusty story short, we did it. We've slept two nights in our new room and the new office is mostly set up. There are odds and ends we need like closet organizing and that darn cable moved (we went wireless on both computers), but the big pieces are in place. It feels really good - but also very unsettled. The baby napped poorly yesterday. I yelled at my daughter twice yesterday (I'm not proud to say). Things feel like they are floating off the floor a half inch. But it feels like the rooms are finally in the right place (we've lived in this house over four years), as if we'd swapped two puzzle pieces that finally clicked into place. When the dust settles (the invisible energy dust, I mean), the Feng Shui of our house will feel so much better.

Does your house feel unsettled? Bedrooms should be in yin parts of the house; in our case we moved a room from the front of the house to the back. They should be near bathrooms and away from public areas like the kitchen. Public spaces should flow from one to another, including living room, dining room, kitchen, and playroom or family rooms. Walls and doorways slow energy. Large windows let in energy from outside, which was one problem in our "old" bedroom, since we had a large window facing the street. I often felt unsettled and on alert while I slept. If you're having trouble sleeping, try moving a bed or even your whole room. The adjustment period can be unsettling, but you'll know it when the pieces click into place and it will change the energy in your entire house. And since our house is an extension of our selves, it can affect your health and happiness as well.

For more on Feng Shui and the energy of place, check out these books.

Nature Spirit in Artist's Photograph

2009-12-26T13:57:00.005-07:00

A fantastic artist named Rosemary Ranck contacted me for information about nature spirits as she had just captured one in a photograph. She wrote, "I was lucky to have a sweet, cute elf like image appear in a photo I shot while photographing changing leaves a month or so ago." And later said she "never saw 'her' [the spirit] until it was uploaded."

Here is the original photo untouched:

Again, Rosemary did not see the little face until she uploaded the photo to her computer.

Here is the photo lightened and sharpened some:

You can't really tell the size of the little face, but you can clearly see her curiosity with the camera and/or Rosemary.

Rosemary wondered why the little elf revealed herself to her. In looking at Rosemary's paintings, it's clear to me that Rosemary's intuitive abilities tend towards the visual. She felt attuned with the place and the beauty of the changing leaves, and her friend came to say hello. Now Rosemary is hiding little nature spirits in her paintings.

Here is some of Rosemary's work. You can see her heart and soul in her paintings.

Thank you Rosemary for sharing your story with us!

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For more on nature spirits, devas, elfs, and fairies, I recommend the following books:

The True Meaning of Yule

2009-12-16T12:03:00.006-07:00

We hear a lot about the true meaning of Christmas, and I remember when I was a practicing Christian the holiday held a deeper meaning for me. Now my spirituality includes not just mystical Christianity but also Paganism and a sprinkling of Buddhism and Taoism. So while I celebrate Christmas Day, largely this is because of family tradition, and because many Christmas traditions come from Yule traditions. I think more about Mary and her unassisted birth than about the baby she bore (at least on Christmas). As a Pagan I also celebrate Yule, the day after Winter Solstice. The holiday celebrates the return of the light through the rebirth of the Sun. As I stared at the Sun low in the sky one afternoon last week, I wondered about a deeper meaning to Yule - the real meaning of Yule, if you will. In Christianity the "reason for the season" is the promise of the baby who will grow up to save humanity from darkness. Is there a larger magic to Yule as well?

I believe that we are all on the path of the Christ. We can all become Christed, or evolve into Christ consciousness, also called non-dual consciousness (for a deeper discussion of this see Jim Marion's Putting on the Mind of Christ). The journey towards non-dual consciousness is central to our incarnating on Earth. The birth of the Christ child is a metaphor for our own continual rebirth into higher levels of consciousness. And therefore so is the story of the birth of the light at Yule. It is our own light that is reborn at Yule.

I began to see how the Wheel of the Year, the progression of holidays spiraling through time as the Earth revolves around the Sun, is a story about our evolution as souls. The story of the God and Goddess through the Sabbats is our story. In fact, not just the earth's journey around the Sun, but the universe's story is our story. Or rather, our story is the universe's. As the universe exploded into being from the void, so did our souls. As it expands into the unknown, so do we. Eventually we will rejoin with the Creator, as planets do when their star expands into a supernova. All is one Story.

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Finding the True Self: Yuletide Dreams

2009-12-06T19:30:00.008-07:00

A chilly snow fell all day; we went out several times to replace the frozen chicken water. A few days ago I collected eggs so frozen they had cracked the shells. The birds are puffed up and probably not terribly comfortable, but they are fine. It's a dry snow, so different from the heavy wet doom that fell in my childhood in the Pacific Northwest. It makes me love the Rocky Mountains, love Denver, love winter.

We put up our Yule tree yesterday, purchased from Tiri's garden which offers sustainably harvested trees and supports children's charities. Christmas when I was little was about my dad, who died a year and a half ago. Putting up the tree and listening to carols reminds me of him. I miss him. When I was younger I always dreamed of the Christmas I would have one day, my mom cooking dinner with excitement for a new recipe, my dad watching from the couch with a twinkle in his pale blue eyes, my husband and I laughing, and my children playing by the tree. This dream Christmas took place in the Pacific Northwest, green and salty and damp. We never had that Christmas, and now we never will.

I remind myself that in reality Dad was unhappy and cranky near the end of his life. The little time he did spend with my daughter, he didn't interact with her much. We found visits awkward because he was so in his own little world. But I can't help but wonder what he would have thought of my son, who is already, at three months old, so like him. They share the eye twinkle, the interested brow wrinkle, the open smile. I can't help but wish that Dad had gotten the medical and psychological help he needed to grow into a healthy sage man so that he could have met my son and spent Christmas with us here in Colorado, or we with them in Washington.

Instead, this year we celebrate with my husband's sister and niece and their families, who have, in all but history, become my family as well. My husband and I have had to do the dance of whose family traditions we will follow, but since we both come from midwestern Germanic stock the traditions aren't so dissimilar. And then my husband and I have also included Yule in the winter celebrations, not formally a part of our childhoods. I feel both sad to let go of the past and filled with joyful gratitude for the present.

I had a dream a few nights ago that I was searching for my birth family. In real life I am not adopted, but in my dream I had been. I told someone that I had to know who I might have been so that I could let go of that person before I could really be my true self. I feel like reflecting on the fantasies I once had around family and the holidays is a lot like that dream. Who did I want to be? Who will I never become? Who am I now? Most importantly, what can I release that no longer serves me, and then whom can I step into as my present self? The truth is, while a part of me longs for the Pacific Northwest and childhood dreams and traditions, I hate heavy wet snow and love the dry mountain air. I love my chickens. I love that we bought a sustainable tree that supports charities. All of these yuletide gifts are tied to the present in Colorado. So the fantasy yuletide I once dreamed of back in Washington state in some ways will never come true, and yet is manifest in ways I never could have dreamed of.

I imagine my father standing in my snowy backyard, laughing at the chilly puffed-up chickens, a cigarette dangling from one hand. He would have loved it here. I believe in some ways he is here, in me, in my son, in the life I've created as a suburban homesteader, for it was he who planted those seeds of self-sustainability when I was a child. Now he is free to be his true self, unencumbered by the struggles of his mortal life. Just as I am free now to continue to seek my true self as well.

Indoor Farmer's Market by Denver Urban Homesteaders

2009-11-30T15:16:00.003-07:00

My family and I went to check out the new indoor farmer's market hosted by Denver Urban Homesteaders. I love farmer's markets, but I tend to be whiny about those here in Denver from June through October because they aren't strictly farmer's markets. One can purchase bananas, Juice Plus, and Tuperware at them. I turn up my locovore nose. But this new indoor market was a true farmer's market, offering local goat milk, cow shares, local eggs, one veggie stand with lovely squashes and other winter veggies, and even local mead. Great photos of chickens lines the walls. There were also very cool chicken coops for sale. (Later someone said to me, "Aren't you guys in the market for one of those?" I replied, "No, we built ours. Out of scrap wood. While I was pregnant. I'm such a homesteader!" Hee, hee.)

If you live in or near Denver or happen to stop by on a Saturday, come check out the market. It's at 200 Santa Fe Drive every Saturday from 9-2.

Garden Mothers: Musings on the Garden Year

2009-11-29T12:36:00.002-07:00

I.
In my garden, Earth and I chat like two mothers over a cup of coffee. Mother to mother, matter to matter. Yes, she says in the spring, the manure serves me well, thank you. I comment on the delicate unfolding of early flowers, and she smiles at the growth of my toddler. Oh, yes, how my Little Goddess has grown, she muses as I plant peas. I gaze up appreciatively at the almost-open lilacs surrounding the garden and press seeds into the damp soil. We discuss spring’s strange weather patterns: snow, then eighty degrees – pea planting time. I give her some weeds and kitchen scraps which she will whip up into compost stew.

Oh! Chickadees are moving in to the birdhouse this year! And look – the crocus we planted two years ago has multiplied. Earth gives me bouquets of dandelions for my daughter to pick. I thank her for the fresh air and fresh spinach that help me raise a vibrant baby. I pour a little cup of breast milk onto the soil in thanks. Her green children continue to push through the spring soil, reaching for Father Sun. The air warms as she journeys around him, hinting at the blast of summer to come. Just in time, the Box Elders behind our house leaf out: We now have shade on the back patio as the afternoons creep towards deepest summer.

I share with my daughter Earth’s spring crafts – yes, these are also dandelions – see? They close up, then re-open white and fuzzy. These are dandelion seeds. Just like the seeds we put in the garden to grow watermelons. Blow them and make a wish! Yes, my daughter, I wish for watermelons right now, too, but we have to wait. When the summer is too hot to breathe, then we’ll have sweet watermelon from the garden.

II.
When the time comes, Earth is full and sweaty as a pregnant woman chasing twins. She insists I take more, fill my kitchen counters with her gifts: Tomatoes, melons, cucumbers, too many zucchinis to know what to do with. She offers me corn with three different colors of kernels, red, white, and yellow. She nods knowingly, telling me how diversity and chance will save us all. In diversity and pluralism is strength.

After my daughter goes to bed, I come out to visit the Mother. I stand in the garden in the warm summer night, crickets singing their praise and wonder. The baby apple tree, covered in bird netting, reaches above my head now, a silent companion in ritual. Beneath her roots my daughter’s placenta has rotted away completely. My body grew it to nourish my daughter, and then I gave it back to the land to feed the tree that will feed us. The Wheel keeps on turning, blessing, feeding, in birth and in death.

I light a candle and set it in a jar. It’s windy tonight, as it so often is at the edge of the Rocky Mountains. I’ve brought with me another jar containing a thick dark liquid. Mother to mother, I say thanks and pour my moon blood at the base of the tree, sprinkle it over the garden beds. Each month I sacrifice some of myself, and give it back to Earth. Matter to matter. Blood for blood.

I sit quietly on the hard ground. Even after watering the lawn, the clay soil is hard beneath my bones. I drink in the night. The moon rises behind the house, her shadows creeping around the Box Elder and shivering moon dust on the lawn. The night pulses with green abundance all around me, but there is also a sweet hint of rot, a promise of the dying times to come.

III.
Autumn is short here. Suddenly the trees have turned yellow and brown. It is too cold to dine on the patio at night, though we can wear tank tops and shorts during the day. I pull up the empty corn stalks and tie them to the front porch. A few more squash plants fatten on the vine, covered in bird netting to keep out the squirrels. I plant a last crop of radishes and scatter kale seeds. The compost needs turning.

Earth invites me to come sit, to slow down in the scurry of fall, soak in the sweet rot and slow cool. Three hawks circle above, slowly, a yearly autumnal dance. My daughter turns a year older, and I settle more fully into my relatively new role as Mom. Earth shows me how. She brushes the hair off my face and offers me a glass of cider. All is well, she says, all is turning, circling, sweetness.

IV.
As soon as I pluck the last pumpkins it begins to snow. My daughter stands at the back door on the heat register and watches white soften the dried plant stalks. The cold curve of land teaches her about death, stillness, calm. Other mothers keep gathering: We scatter Kabocha squash and pumpkin seeds on the deck for the squirrels. The chickadee family hops little prints into the snow as they share in the offering.

On a warm winter day the snow melts in patches. I pull a hat over my ears and go visit the garden, my baby who is not a baby following slowly in the chilly air. I pick a frozen scallion and a small handful of hardy kale. A mother squirrel bounces through the leafless branches above me, dropping snow dust onto my shoulder. I tromp out to the compost pile to dump a week’s worth of kitchen scraps, and dream of spring. Sun glares low in the sky.

At Solstice we build a small fire on the back patio. Wrapped in blankets and the chill night, I sprinkle mead around the apple tree. Thank you, I call to the frozen Earth. Tomorrow the days will begin to lengthen, and I will flip greedily through seed catalogues. Tonight my daughter tosses a pine cone into the fire, and we watch the sparks rise into the icy darkness of the Longest Night of the Year.
And soon, very soon, we will plant peas. Mothers and daughters, soil and sky, spinning, turning, whole.

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Clea Danaan is the author of Sacred Land: Intuitive Gardening for Personal, Political and Environmental Change (Llewellyn, 2007), Voices of the Earth: The Path of Green Spirituality
(Llewellyn, 2009), and Magical Bride: Crafting a Wedding for a Goddess (Wyrdwood, 2009). Visit her at IntuitiveGardening.net or cleadanaan.blogspot.com.

Fiery Herbs for Yuletime

2009-11-29T10:17:00.002-07:00

Yule marks a time of transition from revelry, marked by Jupiter (Sagittarius), to responsibility, marked by Saturn (Capricorn). It is at Yule that we light great fires against the cold and dark, dancing, laughing and storytelling through the Longest Night. We are called to balance: light and dark, inside and out. It is up to us to light our fires and keep them tended, yet at the same time to pause for inner reflection and stillness.

Many of the herbs associated with this time of year are about fire and protection. Holly, juniper, pine, mistletoe and rosemary are all associated with the element of fire. Their essences burn away that which is unwanted: viruses, fear, old habits, poverty, loneliness. These herbs purify and protect. Using them throughout your home, in cooking, and in ritual will help you burn away the cold while protecting inner calm and quiet. You might put rosemary in your bread, hang up a mistletoe branch, or rub pine-scented oil into aching muscles.

One specific way to use these herbs is while cleaning. While mopping your kitchen in preparation for Yule, light a pine-scented candle. Put a few drops of rosemary, juniper, or cypress essential oil in your mop water. Burn a little cedar incense, and sprinkle a pinch of salt on the floor. While you mop and scrub, chant the following:

With fire, water, air, and earth,
I bless my home,
My heart and hearth.

Visualize what you want to bring into your home. See your family and your guests happy, healthy, and whole. Feel the inner peace that comes from the fiery protection of winter herbs as it soaks into your spirit, home, and heart.

Yule blessings to you and yours.

Mountain Selkie Longing for the Sea

2009-11-25T14:17:00.003-07:00

What do you long for? Desire, whether of a person, a special place, or a thing (chocolate!) is such a visceral thing, even when it's not sexual in nature. The current issue of SageWoman includes many wonderful articles written by Goddess-loving women about all kinds of desire. My own article in this issue is about my desire for two places: the Pacific Northwest and Colorado. I hope you'll enjoy it! You can find SageWoman at good bookstores and newsstands.

"I have learned to live at the base of the Rocky Mountains instead of the feet of Mount Baker. But I am like a selchie who leaves her watery home to live on dry land." - "The Resonance of Home" by Clea Danaan, SageWoman issue 77

Selkie by Forest Rogers

2012 - Rebirth and Renewal

2009-11-21T09:16:00.005-07:00

I've enjoyed receiving information from 13moon.com on the lunar, Mayan-based calender, and now they are offering useful, positive information on the Mayan Prophecy of 2012. The website is "A website in service to the Art, Science, & Spirituality of Natural Time and the emergence of a Global Culture of Peace." I discovered them after reading The Mayan Factor: Path Beyond Technology by Jose Arguelles.

About 2012, Eden Sky writes:

"[T]he Maya in Guatemala ... want the world to know the completion of their calendar cycle DOES NOT POINT TO THE END OF THE WORLD, and they wish for people to NOT BE AFRAID. ...The essence of the 2012 prophecy is not about doom and gloom, it is about transformation, renewal and re-birth. It is about us waking up to our true human potential; it is about us coming into our power as planetary citizens, conscious of our interdependence, working together in respect for all of life. It is about us changing paradigms so that our global culture can find a way to live in Harmony, with ourselves, each other and all of Nature. It is about us living from our Hearts. It is a calling for us to expand our perceptions, sense of reality, and context we place ourselves in and awaken to ourselves as galactic beings."

Sounds like the very work I'm committed to! Very exciting. I read this and feel expansion and love. I hope you'll enjoy reading what else 13moon.com has to offer.

Hope for the Healing of the Earth

2009-11-21T08:33:00.003-07:00

Ecologists are discovering that when wetland areas are restored, having been used for nearly 100 years for agricultural purposes, that the land bounces back amazingly quickly. While some native species are reintroduced, many spring back to life on their own, having waited all this time in the soil seed banks.

This shows us the wisdom of the planet. She can bounce back - if (a big if) we can follow her ways and let a wetland be a wetland, she can gracefully and fairly quickly restore balance. The question, of course, is how to let a wetland be a wetland when we need to grow food, build houses, and pave streets. We - and she - have to share.

Providing habitat for native species in yards is key. Get rid of lawns, plant native plants, provide water features and shelter. Building paths for wildlife where there are freeways helps, too. Urban permaculture offers exciting opportunities for integrating food with everyday life and reducing our impact. Of course green building, habitat restoration, and simple things like riding bikes all helps.

Finally, for those of us who honor the earth as sacred and alive, prayer, ritual, and attunement with non-humans also helps heal our relationship with the planet. In conversation with the earth we can be given ideas and tools for sharing and balance. Right now, as you read this, look out the window. Rest your eyes on a tree or another natural being. Let your mind relax. Let your energy and attention reach out to the tree. Sit with that feeling for as long as you like. What happens in your body? What might happen in the world were we all to relate to non-humans this way?

For further reading:

Teaching Children Gratitude

2009-11-07T11:27:00.002-07:00

Two of my friends and I have a little co-op homeschool preschool for our three four-year-olds and their younger siblings. This month we are focusing on gratitude and giving. I've been giving lots of thought to how we teach our children these core values. The first step of course is to model gratitude, thankfulness, and charity by giving to food and clothing drives, giving what we no longer use to others who would use it, and giving thanks for our blessings like food. We say thank you at our house. We express joy when we something wonderful comes to us, from a ripe peach to a new pair of shoes. And we take care of our belongings and those we love.

'Tis the season for food and clothing drives, so several times during the month I will let my daughter pick out a few extra nonperishable groceries and drop them in the box herself, discussing that this food is for people who maybe don't have enough food right now. We do, so we can share. At preschool next week we are going to play "store," one of my daughter's favorite imaginary games, and our store will have a food drive. My daughter loves to give things, so this will be fun and natural for her.

Throughout the year we discuss if we are "done" with a toy and ready to give it away, either to a younger child like her cousin or to the ARC for someone else to play with. I think this Yule we will do something more formal and buy a new toy for a toy drive.

Generosity is part of gratitude and giving; the other piece is appreciating what we have. I want to include saying grace at our table more regularly. When we do, we remember to thank the food itself. Since we garden and raise chickens, thanking the garden and the chickens who laid the eggs has a reality about it that my daughter gets. As she get older we will discuss where the rest of our food comes from as well. For now we thank the plants, the meat, the earth, the Sun, and the people who prepared the food. Since she is four, my daughter will go from a genuine "Thanks for cooking Dad" (yes she really says this sometimes) to grumping about the food because it's all mixed together. She has been known to say that eating is boring. I want to say, "Tell that to those who don't have enough to eat," but I don't. I don't want to scare her, just instill the foundation for her figuring this out on her own as she grows older.

I'd love to hear other ideas from you, reader. How do we raise our children in a culture of gratitude and compassion?

May you and yours have all you need and more.

The Playful Garden Art and Decor

2009-10-12T12:01:00.003-06:00

A fabulous artist friend of mine told me about her sister's store, The Playful Garden, in Napa, California. Their mission is "to bring laughter and playfulness into the home, garden and workplace through the sales of garden decor, as well as garden related products and services." They feature fabulous artwork and whimsical garden decor, some of which is featured for sale online. While shopping for Yule gifts for the gardeners in your life, check out The Playful Garden!

Creating a Memorial Garden

2009-10-10T18:18:00.004-06:00

Samhain, also known as Halloween, is a time of year when we honor the souls of those who have passed over. One beautiful way to honor a loved one who has passed is through a memorial garden. This is a great time of year to plan such a commemorative garden that you will plant in the spring. You might consider using a corner of your existing garden, or use this opportunity to plan out that garden you've been meaning to create for years. Or if you have little or no garden space, you might create a potted garden or window box. The size is not important - it really is the thought that counts. As you tend your memorial garden you will be able to commune with your loved one, remembering her or him through renewed life.

My father passed away a year and a half ago. When we returned from his service, which was at the beginning of May, my new grape plants had sprouted. I dedicated them to him. Now every year we will eat grapes in honor of my dad, an avid gardener who always wanted to grow grapes. The magic of vines is that they keep growing, reaching always for more light, just as our spirit does after death. In this way, too, I honor my dad.

To plan your commemorative garden, consider plants or fruits and vegetables your loved one liked. Perennials, plants that return year after year, are best for the central parts of the garden, as they honor eternal life and rebirth. Roses are a nice option if you have the space and inclination. A tree would also be lovely in your garden, such as willow, said to help us conquer the fear of death, or apple, ripe just before Samhain and offering love and healing. Annuals like flowers and vegetables might also be in your memorial garden, especially if your loved one was a gardener or loved a certain fruit or veggie. I bet as you read this several plants that you associate with him or her spring to mind.

Statues or stones can also be included in your garden, from a big ornate angel to a tiny fairy in a window box. Garden stores offer many different styles and sizes, or you could make your own using a stepping stone kit from a craft store. If you have something of your loved one like a piece of jewelry you don't wear, you might bury it in the garden under a plant. The energy of your loved one will infuse the plant as it grows.

In a larger memorial garden, be sure to include a bench or chair for meditation and prayer. When you miss your loved one, go here for solace and to commune with him or her. This chair, and certainly the whole garden, might be a nice place to hold a simple Samhain ritual, or a ritual on the anniversary of his or her death.

Wishing you peace this Samhain and always.

Cat memorial courtesy Kitty Memorial

The Magic of Fall

2009-10-06T15:29:00.004-06:00

I made it to fall! I write to you now with a three-week-old baby boy sleeping on my lap. Big sister and Dad are running errands. Sun streams in through my office window, and I can see the just-yellowing leaves of our box elder outside. I love fall. I love that it rained last night and the yard is pasted with yellow leaves. I love that we've a few carrots and small bunches of chard, spinach, and broccoli greens in the garden. We started another compost bin, made a run extension for the chickens so they stop wrecking the rest of the yard, and drained the pond (we've a very small pond - more of a water feature). I have so many plans for spring (like a plum tree to plant over my son's placenta, now sleeping in the freezer), but I'm content to let them sit. I am thoroughly enjoying the cooler days and the promise of snow. Life is good.

I tend to be a busy-body, especially when it comes to the garden. I like projects. I like homesteading. I love my miniature farm (which frankly I don't want much larger). But this fall is about slowing down. About letting myself rest. I'm so not good at that - but the sweet little man sleeping in my lap is teaching me how much I must. As the Equinox came and passed I was learning to balance two children, a home, and a career. I will continue to strive for such a balance over the next many years, but right now, with the balance of autumn outside in the garden, the extreme need for balance and rest press me into place. Let go. Let be. Trust. All is well. That is the magic of this fall for me.

Sacred Sister Mary Jane offers great organic farming advice

2009-08-20T13:02:00.002-06:00

As I wind down towards the birth of my baby boy (due in four weeks), I'm just in an incubating stage. So I thought I'd just share a link I found that might be of use to my dear readers. In my book Sacred Land: Intuitive Gardening for Personal, Political & Environmental Change I profile several "sacred sisters" who are women making a difference in the gardening world. Here is another, Mary Jane Butters.

I discovered her magazine and website MaryJanesFarm. I like this page offering seven tips on tons of organic topics. Her magazine and website are geared towards women living an organic lifestyle and running a farm - small like mine to rather larger like hers. (Well, my homestead isn't really a farm, but I can dream. How would you define a farm anyway? I'm thinking 100 sq feet of organic garden space and four chickens might count for something?)

Have you any inspirational women whose stories you would like to share here? Please feel free to leave a comment!

Letting Go of Garden Losses

2009-08-13T17:41:00.003-06:00

Maybe next year I'll follow my own advice. I gave it to myself last year, but apparently I wasn't listening.

Last year I swore I would not plant any gourds - no squash, melon, or pumpkins. The squirrels eat all of them. No matter what. I wrap them in bird netting and cover them with blood meal (or menstrual blood, but this year all that is nourishing my babe - don't mean to gross anyone out, just telling it like it is). I can't spritz them with pepper spray because I fear it would get into my child's eyes and mouth.

I also told myself not to plant corn. Takes up tons of space, uses lots of water, and fertilization is spotty.

Much of my garden right now is squirrel-ravaged gourds and short, spotty corn. Also green tomatoes that are just thinking about turning red. Maybe. Tiny carrots and beets that don't seem to want to get bigger. A teensy patch of fall spinach in the middle of a bed I over planted with seeds that never germinated, or maybe got scratched by chickens.

The garden actually looks pretty good because all those squash and pumpkin plants have huge, vibrant leaves. With sunflowers (minus the actual flower) poking up in their midst. And corn that looks like it's getting somewhere. And huge bushy cherry tomato plants. Dotted with lots of little green orbs. But we're not eating much out of the patches right now. Oh well.

Being 35 weeks pregnant gives one a certain dose of accepting reality. The garden is what it is. We've had lots of lettuce, the carrots and beets and chard may be smallish but are yummy. The tomatoes will ripen, or in early September I'll make green tomato soups. The squash plants get added to the compost (probably why I have so many squash plant volunteers this year - last year's squirrel food!).

And next year I am planting only the things my family eats and squirrels don't, like green beans, tomatoes, and more carrots. Maybe. I'll let you know if I actually manage to follow my own advice to myself. By then I'll have a four year old and a baby starting to crawl. In addition to chickens and squirrels. Hmm.

Ack! The Chickens are Drving Me Batty!

2009-08-01T14:40:00.005-06:00

So I love my four renegade chickens. Renegade because we're kind of violating zoning laws to have them. But they are much quieter than our neighbors' dogs, we keep the coop safe and clean, and they will, I hope, soon lay eggs.

Meanwhile.

They love more than anything to do their little diggy chicken dance in bare dirt. Which in my garden means where I have just planted fall seeds. My daughter and I put in cabbage, spinach, carrots, mache, peas and chard. The chickens watched, blinking from bottom to top (did you know chickens blink upside-down?) with their orange eyes thinking, yes, my pretties, yes.... and then as soon as my back was turned they danced their happy selves across the dirt. And the bird netting we put up to keep them out. Then they ate the leaves off my only Brussel's sprout plant, which was only three inches tall and not getting taller, but still.

And then. They waddle over to the back patio and poop as all grazers do, randomly, prefering the same spots we prefer to walk. Like the door mat and under the patio table. My daughter shouts, "Just look out for the slimy poo right outside the door!" So I use the hose sprayer and spray down the patio and the mat, feeling bad for using so much water (the broom us just a mess for this task). I set the mat on the grass to dry. Ten minutes later it has three chicken turds on it.

They've been staying in the yard so far, but the other day it was cloudy and cool, so the driveway at the side of the house wasn't such a hot desert. Chickens like shade. They stay away from hot sun. They also like to explore. So once the driveway was not so hot, they thought they'd go check out the neighborhood. Did I mention we're not really supposed to have chickens?

So I, big pregnant belly and all, rigged up a makeshift fence between the garage and house. My materials included a rotted, nail-infested old porch banister and some leftover lengths of hardware cloth from the chicken run. It won't keep them in if they really want to go exploring (only a matter of time), but it will slow them down. Not safe for when the baby starts crawling, though.

Time for some real boundaries. Such a theme in my house these days, what with an almost-four-year-old princess, two spoiled cats, and now four cocky chickens.

My plan is to get some flexible fencing like deer netting and fence off a section of yard extending their run. It won't be safe from predators like the run and coop are, so we'll still have to put them in at night and keep half an eye on them, but it will keep them contained, give them more room to roam, and give them a shady area to play in.

Now I just have to do that project. After I do a few loads of laundry and bake some bread. The homesteading dream!

Fall Planting! Tips from the garden...

2009-07-26T19:08:00.003-06:00

"What're you doing, Mommy?" my three-year-old daughter asked, finding me sifting through seed packs in the hallway.

"Getting ready to plant fall veggies."

"Can I help?"

"Yes! We'll plant them tomorrow." Both of us smiled in rapture. My girl loves planting as much as I do.

I picked out spinach, carrots, peas, broccoli, cabbage, parsley, mache (aka corn salad), and chard. We already planted some seeds in a cleared bed - mostly mustard greens and beets - but since they haven't germinated I'm going to do the paper towel technique with this next planting. Put your seeds - just as much as you want to plant or slightly more if your seeds are a few years old - between a fold of damp paper towel and put into a plastic bag. Keep checking them and in a few days they will have germinated. Then carefully transplant to the garden (you can do this in summer because the soil is not freezing) into soil amended with compost (a tweezers works well for this task, picking up teeny rooting seeds and plopping them in the soil). Our compost is very high in nitrogen because of all the beautiful chicken poo we've been blessed with this year.

On a side note, if you have chickens or plan to, I highly recommend putting your compost in a shady area and either doing it as a simple pile as I do or in an open cage that is accessable from one side. It is our chickens' favorite hang out: cool, buggy, and speckled with little kitchen scraps. They turn the compost for us as they scratch and they poop all over the pile, adding nitrogen. We also toss all the cleanings from their run and coop on the pile and turn it in. Their poop is so high in nitrogen that a once a week cleaning of the chicken area yeilds a perfect balance of carbon (wood shavings) to nitrogen (manure). The compost breaks down very quickly and we can use it on the garden in a month or so. I have not had any problem "burning" my plants with manure that has not broken down enough with this technique even though it hasn't been composting long.

Anyway - tomorrow we will cover the beds with compost, weed, and get everything ready for seeds. We'll put some seeds in right away - carrot, parsley, peas (which I will soak tonight) - and others in a few days after they have germinated in their paper towel blankies.

Whee! So much fun.

Summer Heat in the Garden

2009-07-12T12:26:00.002-06:00

This is, ironically, the hardest time of year for me as a gardener: high summer. Partly because it's just so freaking hot here in eastern Colorado, but also because all there is to do is weed. And fertilize. And clean up after the chickens and heavy rains. No planting (though soon I will put in fall crops like broccoli and kale and parsnip). No planning (besides thinking about all the strawberry plants I want to add next year...). Very little harvesting as we are between the cool and warm season harvest - we still have lots of lettuce and a few carrots, but mostly it's wait for the baby pumpkins and tomatoes to ripen.

The heat makes me whiny.

This year my garden is doing far better than the last two years. I used a ton of compost to amend the soil last spring, I fertilized my plants with organic veggie fertilizer (I've been something of a fertilizer snob in the past, wanting compost to be enough, but in my leached soil it just isn't), and we've had a lot more rain. So I really have nothing to complain about. I'm just impatient for action. And cooler temperatures.

Interestingly, about the time of the harvest, I'll be harvesting a pretty sacred fruit from another of my gardens, my family: My baby is due September 15th. So again the veggie garden and the life garden align: we enter the horse latitudes, the dog days of summer, ripening, waiting, and dreaming of cool sweetness with the fruits of my patience and love.

I wish you peace and lemonade this summer, dear reader! I'd love to hear how you are spending your long summer days in the gardens of your life.

The Goddess of Always Enough

2009-07-05T19:15:00.003-06:00

Bee Smith writes, "As I have grown older and my spiritual practices have matured it has been shown to me to have faith in the Goddess of Always Enough. She is always able to provide what one needs right on time. Generally, it seems wisest not to try and second-guess Her or try to tell her what she ought to be doing." (1) Reading this was timely for me. It's been a challenging year, with a lot of doubt about myself, our finances, our health, and whether or not we (as a family) are in the right place, doing the right thing. When I get scared about money, I tend to turn to attempted manifestation, and I tend to try to be very clear about what I feel I need. Then when my prayers are answered but not in the way I specified or envisioned, I get frustrated. When I read Bee's bit about the Goddess of Always Enough, something clicked for me. As always, we are okay. We have enough - even more than enough! All is well, even though by conventional terms I feel on a slippery slope of dept and doubt.

The image of the Goddess of Always Enough helped me to reflect on the challenges we've dealt with over the past few months, and see where She helped us, even though it was not what I thought She "ought" to be doing. A few days after we discovered our eroding plumbing needed to be replaced asap, we got low-interest-for-the-life-of-the-loan checks from a credit card. These were a lower rate than your standard equity loans - and since we haven't savings or equity, a bit of interesting timeing. Then we had to replace our only car. A few days before our old car got picked up by the insurance company's scrap yard, a friend got a new car and was able to loan us her soon-to-be-donated beater (but very functional) car. We found our replacement a week before the insurance was due to run out on our friend's loaner. We were able to get needed repairs done on our new used car just weeks before taking an eight hour road trip (sixteen round trip) that had been planned for months. I'm happy to announce that the car, and the plumbing, are doing great!

Then health concerns hit. I am a little scared and frustrated that we have spent our beefed up flex spending account half way through the year - and three months before our baby is due - but isn't it interesting that I had *just* enough in there to get the chiropractic work I desperately needed?

Speaking of new baby, today my husband and I sat down with the clothes, accessories, and toys friends have given us, and we were both totally overwhelmed. Such abundance! Such a community we have! I do not have to buy anything for this baby. Not even shelves if we can get around to using the last of the scrap wood we have (given to us by a friend) to put some shelves in the kids' closet.

And in case this weren't enough reminder that All is Well and She Watches Over Us, I flashed recently on a memory of about nine years ago. We had just moved to Colorado. I had just finished massage school and barely had a part time job, my then boyfriend had just started graduate school, and his father had just passed away. We drove to Wisconsin for the service, a sixteen hour drive with no air conditioning, paid for by credit card. We found out that my boyfriend had a disbursement coming to him from his father's IRA of about $23k. Recalling this time, I thought, "Things may seem scary and tenuous now, but compared to that time - whew! Life is settled, grounded, and all is well."

I can get so caught up in what I think things are supposed to look like, as in no debt, a fancy (if modest) house, and other wants, but really, if I step back and let my perspective shift, I am amazed at how blessed we are. There is always enough. Always.

Blessings, dear reader! May you too be blessed with the realization of always enough!

(1) Smith, Bee. "Seasons of Change: Gaian Rhythms for Positive Living." SageWoman No 76. 62.

Trusting the Inner Goddess

2009-06-24T09:58:00.000-06:00

Whenever I teach a Reiki class (and when I received my own Reiki attunements) I always go through some sort of deep challenge or shift in energy before the attunement. Once I broke up with a boyfriend – an amicable breakup that just needed to happen; several times I got sick; another time, just before attuning a Reiki Master, I started a new and serious relationship (ended up marrying the guy).

I’m going through just such a shift now, I realized. Not because I’m going to teach a Reiki class but I because I am about to have my second child. Several mamas have told me that the transition to child number 2 was a biggie. I realized that must be a large part of the stressors and health challenges I’ve faced (and my husband has dealt with) since the beginning of the year.

If you’ve been following my blog at all you know we’ve had a few snafus regarding our house, health, and car lately. Last week I encountered another upset. I’d been struggling with moderate back pain, and then bam! My sacral/lumbar vertebrae went totally out of whack. I couldn’t drive, walk, sit, stand up… it sucked. Lots of metaphors here: paralyzed by life, feeling the total lack of support, sick and twisted (ha, ha). I found a fantastic chiropractor who also does acupuncture and kinesiology, who was able to straighten me out and helped me get at the emotional issues underlying what feels like the biggest health challenge of my life so far. The issue? Trust! You may know my other challenges of this year have dealt with Faith – well, this one went even deeper, to trusting those in my life and even my self. I saw how I have difficulty trusting people, and how this year with my graduating (pending, anyway) with my MFA and publishing a second book and writing my first novel I’ve been struggling with my deepest issues of self trust, like doubt, disgust, and lack of faith in my talent and abilities. Funny how success can make one feel both proud and simultaneously totally freaked out and inept.

The issue of trust goes so deep and can be so transformative. Trust versus mistrust is one of the basic foundations of the self according to Erikson. I don’t know if I didn’t develop a strong enough sense of trust in the world as a preverbal infant and toddler, and frankly I don’t care, but I could see in the present how hard it was for me to trust my chiropractor, my husband, my friends, and my work. And underneath all that, my self.

Something a friend said came to mind as I struggled with trusting myself and others. She said, “A goddess doesn’t look to others to give her love.” Something shifted as I inserted “trust” here: A goddess doesn’t look to others to prove their trustworthiness, to prove the trustworthiness of the world. She knows it, because her sense of trust and faith comes from an inner connection to the divine. I can’t go back and change what I might have felt as an infant (if that was even the problem), but I can cultivate a sense of trust in my inner divine nature, and go from there.

This realization paired with the EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) and kinesiology my chiropractor used helped me clear a whole lot of old crap standing in my way.

And then guess what happened? We had a clog in our main sewer drain and had a guy come and rooter it! Talk about crap (and, yup, roots) being in my way. All cleared out.

So: I’m clearing energy to move to the next big phase of my life as an author and as a mama and as a person. I wish you, too, dear reader, clarity and insight and health on your own path. I hope my journey helps to illuminate some of your own.

Weeds and more weeds

2009-06-13T12:33:00.005-06:00

The garden has me contemplating weeds and their lessons. I know - sometimes a weed is just a weed - but as I pluck bindweed from my yard over and over only to see it return with a vengeance I can't help but feel that maybe there is some lesson or opportunity here. All is holon, all is connected. I admit I am having a hard time with this one, though.

I was not acquainted with bindweed, Convolvulus arvensis, until I moved to Colorado and noticed the pretty white flowers of the vine growing alongside my beans. Ah, but now I know. "Field bindweed is more than a nuisance; it's a pernicious weed. Like many nonnative invasives, bindweed is a tough plant that threatens to take over once it gets a toehold. Its cosmopolitan presence in many temperate climates has earned it 84 names in 29 different languages — most of those names are not kind." Writes Sue Dockstader. (1)

My daughter (age three) had the solid suggestion that we should fill up two buckets of weeds a day, no more and no less. Unfortunately I have others things to do in life than pull up bindweed. And sadly my chickens don't eat the stuff. It grows through our weed cloth. I am tempted to buy weed killer - but then I read that herbicides actually don't work all that well. They say the best approaches to the noxious plant is solid weed cloth combined with steady pulling and the possible addition of bindweed gall mites. Lovely.

The thing is, I am not anti-weed. I pull dandelions and mallow if it gets too tenacious or thick in an area, but these plants are edible and return nutrients to the soil. They are not out to cover my entire yard and house. Bindweed is. And I don't feel safe putting it in the compost, where it will spread even more. So it's not even food for compost.

So... I am left trying to take a positive spin on the stuff. What has it to teach me? That life is full of weeds like credit card debt and leaking seals and dead branches? That we have to take a sense of humor and get a good pair of garden gloves? That life's bounty comes in unexpected places? I'm not sure. I'm reluctant to accept the suffering and hair shirt approach to growth, though I have yet to see the point of bindweed through any other lens.

I suppose weeds in the garden, especially noxious ones like bindweed, have something to offer about tenacity, as my daughter innocently decided. Maybe I need a bumper sticker that says Weeds Happen. Hmm.

(1) http://www.pesticide.org/bindweed.html

Chicken Meditation

2009-06-08T13:54:00.003-06:00

Another thing I didn't know about chickens: watching them poke about my yard is a calming meditation. Thought I'd share it with you here. The film quality is a bit choppy - kind of reminiscent of old film footage, but in color!

Enjoy...

As these four little free rangers, Maisy, Millie, Sylvie and Tallulah, wander about my yard, pecking, picking and clucking, time slows and life is good.

The Law of Attraction Comes from the Heart

2009-06-06T09:32:00.004-06:00

My husband and I were discussing our three-year-old daughter's stress level that she is clearly picking up from us. It got me thinking about how I broadcast my stress to my daughter, and how she is not only picking up verbal and nonverbal cues from me, but also swims in my electromagnetic field. The heart is the strongest producer of this field. "[T]he magnetic field produced by the heart is more than 5,000 times greater in strength than the field generated by the brain, and can be detected a number of feet away from the body, in all directions." (1) Via entrainment (2), anyone inside my heart field (as my daughter is most of the time), would pick up on my vibrations (I'm speaking literally here, not just esoterically) of frustration, fear, anger, and stress. She would vibrate with me. As would everything else in my field, to an extent.

This, I realized, is the key to the Law of Attraction. How I vibrate attracts like vibrations. If I am clenched and stressed, I draw constriction and fear. If I vibrate peace, abundance, and gratitude, I draw these energies to me. This includes wealth and success.

We can use our strongest field creator, the heart, much more effectively than just the brain (mind) to create a world we want to live in. Literally. The Law of Attraction requires the heart, not just affirmations said by the brain (though it is all connected, I realized how vastly powerful working with the heart directly can be).

This became my meditation, to feel these powerfully pleasant energies in my heart, creating a powerful field of attraction. What I discovered about myself was stunning.

I live a great life. I have an amazing, beautiful, healthy little girl. I'm pregnant with a strong, healthy little boy. My husband is a music therapist at a major children's hospital. I have published two books, one ebook, and dozens of articles in magazines I believe in. I have a truly amazing group of friends and family. We live in a more-or-less affordable house we've made into a sweet suburban homestead with an organic garden and chickens. In many many ways I am living the dream. But financially we are always strapped; the stress my husband and I have struggled with recently has been due to increased credit card debt to pay for a necessary and rather huge plumbing job, followed by a car accident that thankfully resulted in no human injury but meant replacing our old car. With another old car. We have money set aside for the birth of our baby, but that money has dwindled due to a tooth crown, new glasses, and other health necessities. Though we live fairly frugally, we are always scrambling financially. We have no savings (beyond meager retirement savings) and a big chunk of debt. We keep asking ourselves, what is it that we need to learn here? Why is money always uber-tight? In what ways, for instance, am I holding myself back as a financially successful writer? If money is an energy, an exchange of time, love, and human energy, then why are we chronically strapped?

Well, in tuning into the energy of my heart, I discovered some very interesting things that probably have something to do with our challenges. And are very interesting, too, in light of my family's medical history of heart disease and defects.

What I realized is that my heart is always clenched. Low-level anxiety always simmers, which I can feel as a tightness around my heart. I breathe into my belly, but almost direct my breath around my heart, rather than through or with my heart, as if avoiding the fear held chronically in my chest. When I pay attention to my heart, a panicky or sad feeling rises up my throat and into my eyes. I notice the clench of my jaw. I feel these things when sitting, doing chores, driving, and otherwise going about my day.

Then there is the added frustration I feel when doing something with my daughter. Like trying to get shoes on her feet or bake cookies. She is three. She does things in her time, and messes happen. While I am usually outwardly patient, on the inside, my heart waves are moving more and more towards frustration, impatience, and even rage.

I do not want my daughter to soak in this miasma of energy. Nor my unborn son, nor my husband, nor myself, nor anyone else.

So I breathe into my heart. I focus on the beauty of my daughter and my love for her. But sometimes, this is not enough to "turn off" the chronically clenched feeling. Baby steps, but not the huge shift I was going for.

Anyone who has dealt with anxiety (most of us to some degree), knows you cannot just dissolve the anxiety with deep breaths. Yes, it gets better, livable, but doesn't go away. To really heal the pain, to really find tools for a new relationship with anxiety, fear, and anger (3), we have to go into it. Not an easy task.

I won't tire you with all the details of my own "going into it." I highly recommend for your own journey tools like a journal, an art therapist, a shaman, or other support to help you do your own going into it. But I will share with you a deep insight I had in the process.

I was lying awake in bed one night, thinking. I was contemplating my family history of heart problems. As is easy to do when one is near sleep (and one is either morbid or prone to anxiety or both), I was imagining being in the hospital for heart surgery, which is how my paternal grandmother died when I was an infant. In my fantasy, I am telling the doctor I don't want to die - not because I am afraid of death, but because I didn't want to leave my children. I said I wasn't ready (am not ready) to leave this life yet because it's such a wonderful gift that I am not yet done enjoying.

My heart flooded with peace, abundance, gratitude, and joy. The anxiety stepped aside. The stress over money became moot. Life is bigger. Love is bigger. These are the energies I want to broadcast, to stew my children in. These are the energies that can attract to me the life I want, above and beyond the beautiful blessings I already enjoy. I found the tool I needed to change my relationship with my anxiety: focusing on the gift of life when wrapped in the loving arms of death. Forgive me for sounding morbid, but I can't think of any other way to say it.

What do you carry in your heart, dear reader? What tools do you need to create powerful fields of ultimate potential? I invite you to join me as a heart mediator. Let us see how our bodies and lives change as we go into the "darkness" (via negativa) and embrace the "light" (via positiva) (4). Truly anything is possible, and I'm excited to see where this path leads.

Namaste.

(1) Institute of HeartMath. "Science of The Heart: Exploring the Role of the Heart in Human Performance." 2009.
(2) See Entrainment at Institute of HeartMath.
(3) I don't mean eliminate it. Anxiety can be normal and valuable when directed well. See One Less Thing to Worry About: Uncommon Wisdom for Coping with Common Anxieties by Jerilyn Ross.
(4) The four fold path of Creation Spirituality: Via Positiva, Via Negativa, Via Creativa and Via Transformativa. See Matthew Fox's Creation Spirituality: Liberating Gifts for the Peoples of the Earth.

10 Things I Didn't Know About Chickens

2009-06-04T19:59:00.004-06:00

...Until I raised four of my own in our suburban backyard (and this is pre-egglaying, so there is more to learn). In no particular order...

1. They put themselves to bed at night. Come dusk, they hop up into the coop and tuck in. Our four pile up on each other in a corner of the coop, though I keep adjusting their roost to see if I can entice them on to it. We shall see.

2. They are totally fun to just watch. A running chicken is really one of the funniest things ever. And no, I don't have to chase them, they run all the time as they poke around our yard. They sit in funny poses, they take dust baths, they do a little chicken dance to scratch at the dirt. Totally entertaining. Anyone who has chickens knows what I mean, and anyone who doesn't will think I've gone off the deep end. Which maybe I have.

3. They cost almost nothing to keep. I bought a fifty pound bag of chicken feed for less than $25. That will eventually get turned into eggs (the freshest there is!), and is already turning into awesome compost. My cats cannot boast such economy.

4. Along the compost theme, the nitrogen/carbon ratio of chicken poo to wood shavings we get from the coop, which we clean less than once a week, is ideal and breaks down very quickly. And it doesn't stink. I can smell it, but it's not unpleasant. (Poor cats. Can you see a theme here?)

5. They are really soft. Chickens look all tough and nearly reptilian, but their feathers are very soft. So are their legs. Who knew?

6. They make sweet crooning noises when they come over to say hi. Which they do whenever I sit in one place. One of our chickens is more imprinted on us, and therefore more friendly, but they all come over and croon. It's probably a plea for treats, but it's a very sweet sound. I also love the way they look at me: part curiosity, part affection, part wariness. All chicken.

7. They are fascinated with my cats. And not afraid of them at all. In fact, my boy cat is afraid of them. He is twice their size (but they're catching up to him). They are actually fascinated with just about everything, though somewhat easily spooked. They are chickens, after all.

8. I thought all chickens loved earthworms. Not ours. But they can catch a small green spider in the blink of an eye, and apparently they eat mosquitoes, too.

9. They eat dandelion seeds. Since I don't use any weed killer, this is a nice bonus. I have four chickens and a thousand dandelions, so you can guess who is winning, but it's a start. They also love pansies. Sigh.

10. They are really quiet. Apparently when they lay an egg they like to announce it, but for now the loudest squawk is quieter than a crow or a jay. Can't say the same for my neighbors' barky dogs. And no, we do not have a rooster, which you do not need to get eggs, so we do not bother the neighbors.

Can you tell I'm hooked? If you're considering chickens, I have three words of advice: Go for it! You'll love them!