Moments

The wildflowers are at their peak, a lacy profusion of petals, happy faces, feathery leaves and a finale of dancing butterflies sewing the design of next year's arrangement.

The air is sweet and thick at high noon, with honey-hay breezes anointed by evaporating river mist. The water has taken good care of the plants, and as I wade carefully down the current, I can brush my fingertips along the flowering vervain. I crush a little watermint and inhale it's beatific scent deep into my lungs and belly. The cool ripples float along my calves as I step in between slippery rocks. All around me there is bounty; canopies of grape leaves, frosty thickets of young willows, sassy bull thistle, and half eaten boneset patches. Many creatures have stepped along this mud before me.

Nearby the raccoons forage. They are tiny little new ones, crunching along last year's leaves, digging into the dirt for edible treasures, and waddling from spot to spot. The bitter mugwort and wormwood are nearly ready to make flowers, and so I collect many stalks for potions. My big jar of vinegar sits, luminescent, on the counter top, and the drying stalks hide in the shade. Clever in the corners of the riverbank are the stunning blue singing mouths of Skullcap... soothing my spirit as I listen to their colorful melody.
My basket is full this summer. With water plants and meadow plants, flowers and fragrances.
With beauty.
And exquisite moments of sharing.
A page is turning, and the suspense is heavy. What moments lie ahead? Where do I put my energy - so that it will be multiplied, not stolen? What practices can I cultivate that will nourish my authentic being.

I will ask the plants and pray to the river.

Demulcent Summer: Mallow

In the hazy, heavy heat of the summer, the Rose of Sharon bursts into ecstatic bloom. Her timing speaks of slippery pleasure and arrival ... the climax of summer's landscape. She retains nothing out of shame or modesty. She pushes into visibility the eye-opening beauty of the feminine divine. Her profuse and large flowers pour over the greenery in tidal waves of pink-cranberry-white-green-pink. Each petal boasts a crisp, cool, slippery texture, resembling the soft supple skin of sacred human kissing spots. Her fleshy presence a dichotomy of uncomfortable summer arousal and cooling satisfaction. The bees are quite literally dizzy with pollen and nectar; the entire tree humming with hundreds of honey bees. In order to reach the sweet nectar they must labor themselves deep into the flower by pushing their hind legs against the sides while burying their heads deep into the middle. Her flowers come in stages, each day opening a new cluster and each evening closing at dusk and dropping finished blooms with a soft thud on the rock path. Her littering of spent petals an offering to her own soil for next years cycle.
It's no mystery why Mother Nature blossoms this beauty right now. The Rose of Sharon is perhaps the largest of the Mallow (Malvaceae) family, providing ample mucilage to us hot humans. The cooling flowers are truly delicious, and a beautiful addition to a wild salad. Crushed, the flowers can quickly soothe an over heated face while gardening, or ease an itching rash or insect bite. A strong infusion (cool water, please!) will coat all of your insides with slippery healing, a perfect remedy for hot digestion, IBS, UTI, ulcers, and hot tempered summer folk. (think: Pitta)
Mallow in tandem with Red Clover would be a most wonderful fertility combination, fortifying the lining of the uterus in preparation for implantation of sperm. Mallow also gives sheen to our skin by increasing suppleness and hydration, and because of it's lovely mild flavor, an easy one to share with children. And exceptional sore throat remedy, combine with some prebrewed Echinacea root infusion and your sore throat will vanish in no time flat.

Rose of Sharon's flowers are the plant part I use, and of other Mallows I believe you can use the leaves as well and of course there is Marsh Mallow root - of which I have not grown or wildcrafted (yet!). I use them (the Rose of Sharon flowers) generously ... as a nutritive plant you really can't use too much unless your natural constitution is already too cold and wet. (think: Kapha) But even those types can stand some Mallow in the heat of the summer.

Hibiscus is a particularly delicious (a fruity-sour taste) and very cooling (some consider it a refrigerant, energetically) Mallow species. The flowers are used in the classic "Red Zinger" tea by Celestial Seasonings, and in many other citrus flavor teas on the market. If you grow your own, you have to bring it inside during the winter months, but she's a patio pleaser in the summer time - that is, if you don't eat all the flowers.

Rose of Sharon's equal directions of upwards and downwards growing patters remind me that her moving energy is mostly neutral, perhaps adaptive; not too stimulating or sedative, but rather "even keel". This is how I feel when I eat and drink of her medicine. And similar to the Rose genus, she feels like a heart soother; emotionally healing and uplifting but without illusion. A gift of Nature indeed.

Speaking of gifts, the Wineberries are ripe and very plump this year, keeping the kids happily picking bowl fulls each day.

And the Wormwood got so tall it began to fall over on itself .... so I harvested plenty and made a long smudge wand for my friend's Lodge.

mmmmm, the smell.
Some wild teas for my women's circle....
Yum.

My hobby on the side, inspired by my daughter who crochets far better, but less often, than I. These special medicine pouches will probably go to the Red Tent Temple Artisan Fundraiser, coming soon.
Oh yes. And my beloved Catnip, the Don Juan of Cats. I go to him for vibrational healing .... he has the most incredible purr.

My birthday hike

We hiked up the river to the beautiful Cedar Grove. Here we are at the entrance, exiting the forest. My two kids, the neighbor kids, and me :) behind the camera. I love this spot where the air shifts from a loamy cool to a sweet warm syrup.
We stopped to gaze at a spider.
We stopped at the wishing tree.
I stayed behind to watch a grasshopper sing with it's wings.

The Grandmother Cedars were stunning as always, whispering stories of the ancients.
The water was refreshing and clear, renewing my spirit.
Little spikes of blue flowers cooled the hot meadow. Lobelia of some kind?

The Blue Cohosh has set out berries.
I watched the butterflies dip deep into the Bee Balm.
I harvested some, as well as some Yarrow flowers.
I watched my girl lead the pack into the water. She's a river girl too.
I love the butterfly weed.

the turkey tails on this old log were florescent green!
I got my (blurry) photo taken on a rock.
I discovered a mini-monarda Mountain Mint I hadn't known before. Adorable!

And.... I took over 150 photos. :)

..... it's not over yet, I'm headed up feather path to horsetail mountain now ... where the black raspberries grow. yum! so far it's a good summer b-day.

It's my birthday

I'm turning 33 today. In about an hour. And just like (knock on wood) every year on my day the weather is incredible. The mist is cool and smoky from the river, and the crows are in full flocking force as they move from station to station with their frenzied chatter. The hawks are screaming incessantly on the hill, and the woodpeckers have already made their breakfast rounds to my trees.
The smell of the air is like no other time of year. It is thick with nectar, pollen, fresh water vaporised by sunshine, and deeply breathing plants. I woke up to greet the day and took in large gulps of this air, as it is my healing ambrosia. I must take in enough to strengthen my spirit.

I'm going to sit here this morning in the summer air, and write and read for a while. That's my favorite way of all to start the day.
Then I might take a plant walk or hike to the Cedar Grove. I can't go in the river today because there is e-coli .... upsetting news.... but indeed happens at some point each year.

On my birthday I like to think about where I've been and where I'm going. Who I am and who I am becoming.
I've accomplished another year in homeschooling my children (which often means self) and for that I pat myself on the back. I love having the freedom to allow them a self directed and self aware life. My son turned 9 yesterday (a little birthday gift for me :) and he still has the most magical, funny, and brilliant sense about him.

I've graduated from my Green Witch Correspondence Course with Susun Weed. It took me just over two years, although many of the lessons I had already been passionately pursuing already, so I had a good head start. I have learned a LOT through this course and it has effected who I am profoundly. It has also given me good solid footsteps toward my more authentic self, leading me in a truer outward expression of that. I realised when I sent in my completion letter ... that the whole point of completion really is when you realize that it's never done ... that really it's the beginning as well, another rung of the great spiral. I feel like my medicine bag is getting fuller and more potent. Some of my tools are getting sharp, and some of my visions clearer. Many of the lessons in the course are ones I will be using over and over for my whole life.

I've changed my entire career. Some of you know that before this last year, I was in the throws of a career as a professional dancer; performing throughout the state, teaching, choreographing, and in general staying very busy both creatively and physically. As of June 21 - it was a year behind me. This was a pivotal choice for me, with many deep layers as reasons and motivations for changing ... which I need not bore you with here. The undercurrent of this change is that it granted me the time to watch, listen, and act. The watching pertains mostly to my children and to nature. I've been able to really watch the plants this year, through many more slow changing moments, leading me to some exquisite plant love experiences and wisdom. I've started a weather journal, and so I watch the sky and smell the air and listen to the birds, and record each day my notes.

I listen more carefully, hopefully to other people as well as my deeper self.


I have taken action on some of my more important visions; raising a Red Tent Temple (finishing it's 5th month yesterday!) honoring the wheel of the year with simple or community ritual and ceremony, journaling more, and putting good strong focused energy into the classes I teach for the Wilderness School. One of my most important actions to take was to do less. And so the list stops there.



Where am I headed? I ask my self this question a lot. Sometimes I get a little answer, but more often I get silence. I'm not exactly sure. Sometimes I wonder what I am in such a hurry to get to. I worry that someone might beat me to my own goals, or to my own destiny if that's possible.

I'm not even sure what I'm doing all this for or what to do with what I learn or even how to begin to organize it into something cohesive if I wanted to teach it.

One of my biggest struggles that I would like to gain peace around this year is my sense of home. My sense of belonging and of place. There are glimpses of my world that bring me this feeling of depth and connection that I crave, often they show up here as I write about the land around me and the plants. But I think the blog cleverly trims out the parts that don't belong for me .... many neighbors close by, oppressive cost of living, the land that turns from ecstatic in summer to desolate and dead for many more months out of the year; land that puts my whole being into torpor during that time.

I've never lived in a climate that was without a sure winter. I grew up in Iowa. Yet I struggle to deal with it year after year, as I watch my allies hide away underground, the comfort of the sun leave, the green of the landscape fall away, and the brute of the grey sky and whipping cold set in like the slap of the Narnia Queen. The sting of half my life away is something I cannot come to terms with .... leaving me with an unending sense of UN belonging. Of un place and un home.

I would like to find peace and resolution around this.



Another thing that might change for me this year is work. I may have to return to work, as the financial climate for a family of four is, to say the very least, hostile where I live. It's corporate America, folks, and unless your hubby makes a fortune in Manhattan, you'd better find some tampons and get your ass to work. For us normal folk, good isn't good enough. It's barely enough. So, we shall see where this fact leads me. I can't work full time because we have chosen a life as homeschoolers - and I am committed to maintaining that for my children.



What new things for me would I like to see in this next year? I'd like something to help me bring my learnings full circle - whatever that means. I often think about doing another training, perhaps the Priestess path with ALisa Starkweather, or the Medicine Woman's Path with Kiva Rose, or another path that would be both deeply spiritual as it was wisdom filled. I think I will just have to wait for the right moment to inform me.



I am especially looking forward to my birthday gift. I have requested a day later this month. ... and during this day for some of my close women friends to arrive at my home and teach me something. This makes my heart flutter every time I think about it. A whole summer day to myself, where the women of my 'tribe' stop in at their own chosen moment, to share a wisdom of theirs with me as I grow. This feels like a memory that I have uncovered. I can't wait to discover what they will decide to share .... songs? gardening tips? meditations? a hunting story? It just makes my spirit feel alive. This will be a very special day indeed, and I feel relieved and joyous about celebrating my birthday the way I feel it is meant to be. Modern day birthday structures just make me cringe.



The birds are simply glorious this morning, so full of melody as I watch the sun come out from behind the Hemlock boughs. Still laced in fluffy clouds, the sky is hazy and mild. The vacationers at the riverbank are quiet on Monday mornings for all their weekend parties. The St. Johnswort in it's yellow mini-suns beckons a second round of harvest. The Queen Anne's lace opens right up as if to wish me a personal happy birthday. The black raspberries are heavy on the vines and the wine berries and blackberries are gaining a sweet momentum of their own, readying for their moment in the sun. My children tinker inside the house as they rise from slumber, with their messy cute hair and mismatched jammies. My older one rises late .... for staying up with dad watching sports... or because I think after lights go out, hers goes back on in silent, late night pursuit of a good book.



Happy new year, to me.

The beauty and humor of my roses

We know there is no shortage of Rose worship, be it herbalists, gardeners, romantics, or otherwise. Yet when the year has turned and they come back as if a dream returned, it brings such blissful newness that it's as though it were the first time they appeared. And since today was the day for me to worship the roses in my garden, I'll join the parade of Rose writers.

When the day is perfect and the blossoms are plenty, I remind myself of the preciousness of the moment. In the blink of an eye they will be withered and gone, making way for the winter's hips. Since I am not working right now, I have to be a resourceful herbalist. I have Rose tinctures from previous harvests, so I am not too bothered by not having alcohol.
I am leading our Monthly Maiden Circle tomorrow night, so I gathered some for a cool tea for the ladies. I also still had some apple cider vinegar left, so I made a Sunburn Vinegar with Roses, Peppermint, and Lemon Balm, reminded to me by Kiva's recent Rose post.
Not being able to resist the urge to eat the roses, I made a decadent snack. I happened to have bought whole milk vanilla yogurt, so it was new with all the thick cream on top. I spooned just that into my bowl, and adorned it with bananas, shaved dark chocolate, and rose petals. Talk about heart food.
I have to admit I've been smitten with Rose for some years. As a teen I didn't like it at all, probably because I had smelled too many bad rose perfumes. You really have to be around real roses to get the full effect. When we moved here, I was in love with the fact that several rosebushes were already established. I had become familiar with the sensual, heart healing, aphrodisiac and balancing properties through my studies in aromatherapy. In fact, if I think back further, I remember my Mom's Rosy Glow Face cream that she made when apprenticing with Rosemary Gladstar, back in '93 I think. To this day I adore her Rosy Glow cream. I followed in her footsteps, studying not just how to make a rose cream to die for (or live for!) but all about her incredible multi-talented healing properties. How she is revered in Ayurveda for deeply balancing the blood and uterus, how in Europe she is revered for her delicate tea, and in Mayan healing will stop a birthing mother from a dangerous hemorrhage. When sadness sets in, she pulls the hormones into a softer space. When anger strikes, she tames with clarity and a steady pulse. When heat fogs, she cools. When hurt scathes and cuts, she cures and settles. Any ailments of the eyes are soothed and relieved, and any baby would be amiss of daily ails with only rose remedies. My summers would now be incomplete without my annual jar of rose petal jam from my Mom, who gathers them from the scented beaches of Cape Cod. The Rose is truly an apothecary unto herself. I once started "A Rose Apothecary"and maybe someday I'll actually finish it. The small Rose Apothecary pictured here is one of my most favorite little old herbals.


The lessons from Rose are many. While moving in slow motion through the heavy, thorny boughs, I pondered what Rose wanted me to know. I had one of those unpoetical moments, where a commercial came to mind instead of a profound voice. Mind you, I watch next to no tv, so unfortunately the commercial is also outdated. Remember the saying "don't hate me because I'm beautiful"? Yeah, that one. Rose is trying to tell me something about beauty, I realize. See, I'm that girl. I'm the one who looks stunning on stage, and peculiar in person - kind of like the Seinfeld girlfriend who was hideous at one angle and stunning in the next. It's blessed and cursed me as you probably guessed. I get it from both angles, both men and women, and myself. I get the one's who leave me confused when they jokingly say "you're too pretty. bitch." or "I hate you". Then there are the ones who I'd like to be friends with, but flat out avoid me because they can't be with someone with the potential to steal their spotlight. From the guys, well you pretty much can guess all of that. So without getting dreary here, I'll just say I was very lonely for most of my childhood and adolescence.



Rose seems to understand perfectly. There is a time and a space for beauty, which is basically when it feels like showing up. When it does, it does it unabashedly and with sheer exuberance. It does so with uniqueness - not "perfection". It does so with prolific, unbounded love and generosity. It does so with clear boundaries. It stays as long as it plans, and then leaves.



Why then, should I shy away from my beauty? From feeling beautiful? From feeling beautiful, and generous, and clear, all at once? Rose teaches me to be self centered - not ego centered. Rose reminds me to exist as abundant, romantic, blessed, creative, and feminine. And, of course, not to take everything so seriously.

The Cry of the Mother Hawk

Up on the hill, where the raspberries flower in purple, and the horsetail holds the soil, the Mother Hawk cries. I sling my pack over my shoulder and tuck a paper bag in, just in case. The grass pricks my legs and makes them itch. I watch for the clematis along the ground, cleverly covering for the poison ivy. I pass the spots I remember from walking each summer, and although a very short distance, the detail, variety, and richness of each step is revealed when on foot. The same rock, the same patch of Russian Olive, and the same dapplings of wild Oregano. I discover another huge Common Elder bush, flowering later than the one in the sun, where I am headed. The Vetch is on display with mathematical genius, making ample room for fairies to romp. The Sassafras is high here, adorned with layers of grape vines. Spikes of hearty mugwort make me feel right at home. Down below I can hear the river, running evenly through it's vein. The Mother Hawk's screams penetrate the air. I pass the Dogbane and multiflora, heading further up the hill. To my right, the crust of trees marks the wall of the forest, where within lies hidden dens and rocky mazes. I peer in, half hoping to see something new.
A squirrel peers back.

The Ferns are special here. Along the base of the trees, like handcrafted anklets, they feather out in humid joy. The Maiden hair fern is especially a treasure, with her jewel leaves and striking dark stem.
To my left, the open space makes a happy home for the sun bathing species. The brambles in excess, from predominantly wineberries, to red raspberries, blackberries, black raspberries, and the anticlimactic purple flowering raspberries, whose flower is much more sexy than the taste of it's rather bland fruit. The St. Johnswort finds the drier spots to thrive, and the groundnuts creep along the cliff side of the brambles.

Today I've come up just to observe. Sometimes, us herbalists, are forever distracted by the urgency of harvesting. Especially here is New England, when we are waiting for the right equation of blossom to sun, or distance from the road, and hoping that when the time arrives we aren't stuck at work. And so we get tangled. But today, while the kids are off with friends, I trod up alone to watch. To pay homage to the Mother Elder and all her kin. Just to watch the Hawk guard her nest. She cries so often, I think she is warning against me, the human. But the more I listen, the more I realize that I am not her enemy. She reacts to the crows who irritate her sense of territory, and to each car that rumbles up the road. To test my theory, I jump up and down, waving my hands and making noises. She just stares at me, with an expression similar to, perhaps, a teenager to her less than cool mother.

Without a single plant harvested, the Medicine up here is huge. The feeling of plenty, of wildness intact, of sensation and wonder. I smack mosquitoes with a little more appreciation for their vampire talents. I feel a sense of peace that only nature can provide. The place where the less I do, the better. Where who I am is everything and nothing.

This little spot is so small in the world. I ask it my heavy questions with never a clear answer. Is this home for me? Is this where I belong? Is this my purpose?

The Thunderstorms, expected again today, never came.
So I got to watch the hawk for even longer.

Sleepless Rain

Every season brings a new sleepless night. It seems to me that just before every equinox or Solstice, I have this; trouble sleeping, coupled with an unreasonably early rise. It's 4:30 am right now, I should be sound asleep. There is something in the turn of the season that wakes me up. Makes me restless. Everything shifts. The smells in the air change, the density of sunlight, the sounds of the wind, my dreams, and the times and pathways of the Moon and Sun across my sky. New emotions wiggle up and old ones play uncomfortable roles of nostalgia, like old costumes with no play. The crickets still sing, and even louder is the grey tree frog which has given me a few terribly sleepless nights lately with it's forceful volume and relentless two-tone trill. I love frogs, but I wish this one would move further from my house.

The rain is doing them well, I suppose. This weird rain. Almost every day has been beautiful; hot and sunny, sometimes hazy and more humid, and some days are so perfect I wonder where I am. But around 5:00, the clouds roll in, the thunder rumbles like a Giant's hungry stomach, and the lightning cracks like an angry schoolhouse yardstick. The storms come as if they are visiting from Florida or the Islands - not like our native storms - they feel bizarrely tropical. Their strength much greater than I remember. The rain dumps down in heavy bucket fulls and the wind blows it right into the windows. The plants once upright in pride are flattened. The longest days of sunshine are cut off by 6pm to host the darkness of the storms.

Once the heart of it passes, the trickle continues through the night, as if someone forgot to turn the hose off. The freshly bathed air sifts through the screens and lays itself on my restless body, like damp silk, calling me out of bed before dawn. As I type, I see the mist above the river, between the trees, yawning with a faint glow of slate blue. The earliest of the birds have begun their harmony. In a few moments, the coyote will be asleep again, and the bear, if there were any, visible from a safe distance. I can step outside and greet the emerging season. I can wash my face in the cool dew from the plants. I can wish for every day to feel like this air, this immortal water and precious earth, and this strange fire it makes in my heart.

Cooling herbs for summer: Magic Mint

This month's blog party, hosted by Alchemille, is all about how to stay cool in hot weather. First things first, I have to second Kiva's motion to make friends with a river. I know that it's not realistic for everyone, as there are many places not near to water. But if there is a way .... to get to the water, even if it means a cool bathtub or a kiddie pool, it beats any herb in this department.
I'm so in love with my river that it's probably holding us back from moving on in life in ways we should. I must be by fresh water. The way the surface illustrates the weather and the seasons, or the mood of the wind. Standing in the rush of the cool water, with hot sun on my shoulders and the honk of the Great Blue Heron, restores my deepest sense of self and of adaptability.

Along the riverbanks grows the wild mint. I try always to stop and say hello, pinch a little top to cool my senses, and thank it for staying wild. She keeps good company, alongside juicy, succulent chickweed, wild roses and calamus, all of which have varying degrees of coolness.

My garden takes lessons from the river. The mint crawls wildly through the roses, strawberries, and honeysuckle. She is particularly healthy this year, making frequent use easy and very helpful. A handful of mint steeped in a jar of water makes a multi-purpose cooler: we drink it of course, but also soothe our faces and hot shoulders with it, or make a batch just too add to a cool bath. Children's splinters can be coaxed out in a foot bath of mint and yarrow. Heat rash on infants or toddlers can be relieved with a mint infusion applied with a mister or cotton balls. Rinsing the hair with mint vinegar is a great way to treat your hair during the heat. And mint and melon balls - or mint whip cream on strawberries? yum!

See, mint helps our bodies regulate temperature in a couple ways. It assists our triple warmer, and it helps to move the heat that may be stagnant, so that it can be released through sweat and circulation, without actually increasing internal heat - like a chili or ginger might. And because it's a gentle plant it can be used often without any worries.

The anodyne properties help in relieving pain both internally and externally, which, if originate from inflammation, can become exacerbated in hot weather. It has been cited to relieve a wide range of ailments, from arthritis, to cold sores, to poison ivy, diaper rash, sunburn, and oral ulcers or gingivitis. Wounds are treated well by the numbing mint offers and the antibacterial action. Internally, mint is a classic and reliable digestive herb, helping to alleviate children's tummy aches and assist adult's metabolism of heavier foods.

Being such a vigorous grower, (some might dare to accuse it to be invasive) as well as endlessly versatile, no one should have to go without a cooling mint summer remedy in some form or another. I highly recommend making close friends with mint: grow a mint garden (there are so many!), eat the flowers in your salad, make a mint preparation with each of your menstrums and compare them..... including honey! Make a honey-mint liqueur for your special nights, or dry some leaves for a cooling powder.

Stuff some fresh mint leaves inbetween your toes before a long summer hike.

The whole mint family in general (Lamiaceae, formerly Labiatae) is truly an entire panacea in itself. With so many different genus', an easily identifiable botanical pattern, and geographically wide range, it's a first learn for herbal students. Especially children, who need to be able to eat, touch, taste, smell, and essentially merge with a plant in order to internalize it.

The botanical pattern: square stem, opposite leaves, irregular flowers, and often aromatic, is a simple set of rules for kids to remember and apply. Comparing different mints is fun and strengthens our powers of observation - lemon balm, rosemary, lavender, sage, monarda, oregano, motherwort, and ground ivy lined up in concert is beautiful and educational. If you have an ice cream maker, home-made cucumber-mint ice cream will be a coveted treat.

Swaddle yourself in mints this summer; staying cool, connected, and very healthy.