and inhabited many places,
painting each space on her heart.
This was her way, is her way. The folks see her strong and confident …
They see her reserved in all matters.
To those who know her spirit, she is a bohemian,
dancing in the dark of the night …
a contradiction in action.
She can’t be caged,
she bites the bars.
Her way is to look up
to see a wide scape.
She eyes the landscape
as if it were food.
She sends a cry out to those who walk on her path.
She protects her young,
sharing the gifts …
she parts the grass so he can see the way.
Her paws are tough now
after so much time,
but it doesn’t stop her
loping down the path
for the next piece of magic,
with a glimmer in her eye.
I wonder what your reality looks like, what it feels like, what worlds it possesses. As you get older, funny using that word ‘older’… as you get older I see all sorts of possibilities and I just know that you can create any kind of world you want for yourself, walk any path you choose. Don’t forget your personal stories … The story given you at birth and the dreams of babyhood, the story that let you to speak to things unseen, the story of how your hands create incredible detail, the story of natural geometry, the story of imagined vivid, and colorful realities and the understanding of subtle irony in everyday being.
Remember your stories, your dreams, live your dreams … learn from your dream stories, they have meaning.
When I watch you, not as momma but as just another it’s surreal and creates a fuzzy feeling that I want to keep holding and it’s hard to keep holding, it’s fleeting. Sometimes when I can see just right, I can pick out individual traits uniquely yours, the traits that will make you an incredible man. I see it and I dream it and it’s all good.
Stories about the old witches and curanderas that roamed … the dark ones, brujas, who caused ill when they looked into your babies eyes without signing the cross on the child's forehead and the ones who brought forth new life by knowing the magic of the canyons and paths back into the forests. Both existed side by side, they said, and sometimes they were said to be one and the same. Shape shifting they said, and you had to learn to guard yourself and your family, to do the rituals that made you safe, rituals that were deeply mixed with the religious belief brought by the priests in the old days.
In the dark someone would light a small fire inside a circle of river stones.
The fire would dance on the faces and make oddly shaped forms, and in the quiet between stories the howl of coyote could be heard, and the breeze through the trees trilled and the owls watched. With no light streaming from poles or cities, the dark was penetrating and to look up found you mesmerized by the stars never seen from other places. The high desert cool would take hold, and someone would leave and come back with a sweater and a gift, something special for you that you must keep to make sure no bad would come to you. “Make sure to take the two needles and place them over the door to your house in the shape of a cross to make sure the hurtful ones do not come.” You see, it was said they, the brujas, could not cross a doorway that was protected … and that is how you would know. “Cleanse the doorway good. Talk to Auntie, she will give you what you need.” Then they said, “Don’t take too much from the forest without leaving a little for the curanderas. When you go for wood, take care because they will be watching how you spend your time.” But you can go to the curandera when you need their wisdom … all the woman knew something that was learned and passed on but the curandera had a way to see. “Go to her, she will tell you what she sees.”
In the dark your mind would fill with the images and the knowledge would swirl around and you would feel powerful in knowing what the old ones knew. As the night got longer and you sat hugging your knees, you felt it all through your soul as each leaf moved, each coyote howled, each owl hooted.
• 1 pound turkey Italian sausage, chopped
• 1 medium onion, chopped (I used half of a large onion that was left from the day before)
• 3 cups chicken broth (I used about 4 cups)
• 1 cup water (I added a bit more to make sure)
• 2 cups chopped carrots (I just cut up about 5 carrots)
• 4 cups cubed potatoes (Yukon Gold, white or red) (I used two very large Yukon's)
• 8 cups chopped green cabbage (about 1⁄2 head)
• 1 teaspoon oregano (I used dried)
• 1 teaspoon thyme
• 1⁄2 teaspoon cumin (I used dried)
• 2 cups chopped fresh tomatoes (I used 4 large tomatoes)
• 1⁄4 cup tomato paste (I used two BIG dollops)
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• 1⁄3 cup finely chopped, lightly packed fresh basil (I don’t know why someone would measure basil, I just put as much as I wanted)
1. In a large pot on medium heat, cook sausage and onions about 10 minutes, until onions are soft and sausage is cooked through; drain any fat. (I put a wipe of olive oil in the bottom of the heated pot to start the onions and I didn’t drain anything, because there wasn’t really anything to drain) Add broth, water, carrots, potatoes, cabbage and next 3 herbs. (I added half of the tomatoes at this point as well because I wanted the flavors to meld) Bring to a boil, stir, then simmer, covered, for about 45 minutes or until potatoes and carrots are done.
2. Stir in tomatoes (I added the other half) and tomato paste. Add salt and pepper. Simmer, covered, for about 15 minutes. Turn off heat and stir in basil.
Served right from the stove in a very pretty bowl and a chunk of good bread. Delightful!!!
and here it is ….
Give credit where credit is due ~~~ Kris Wetherbee is a contributing editor to The Herb Companion . She cooks and gardens in western Oregon. (The original recipe is her creation)
Read more: http://www.herbcompanion.com/cooking/herbal-soups-cabbage-soup-turkey-sausage.aspx#ixzz1Bm4aTuWY
I grew up here but have never gotten used to the weather, the bitter cold dry winters with too much snow that are just an upset to the utilitarianism of city life, cold wet springs that take too long to yield the fruits of summer, hideous summer humidity that mingles with the harshness of the cities pollution, and autumns that are beautiful but much too short to enjoy. It’s the combination of the weather mixed with the functions necessary in a city that makes it all so uncomfortable … for me.
Something very deep in my heart tells me that maybe it’s because I am no longer meant to do that work and so the universe won’t manifest it for me. There are so many around me who tell me that is not the way to think, that everything is black and white. I’m concerned, saddened that someone would tell me what my thoughts should be and I know there is nothing wrong with gray. I want to mix all the colors and find the possibilities … at my age, still!
I’m thinking about taking classes in medicinal herbalism. Something in which I’ve always had an interest and have delved in to only at a high level. Now, I am finding an increasing pull to know more to be the herbalist.
What would that bring?
What will any of my thoughts bring. Perhaps I can think it all into being.
On this occasion of marriage, I was in that place I know so well. Like a troupe of actors, we took our parts, unlike most parts played by the more traditional of folk. The priest was summoned to a forlorn church, old beyond time, unused except by the small group of people whose purpose was to insure the churches antiquity, a population of twenty or so all within a small village one road long and miles wide. All soon to be my relation. To write it sounds as if I lived in another time, another place and that would almost be true but for the fact that it was not long ago and it was in this reality.
As we all prepared, there was one character for whom we waited, the bearer of the bouquet. My dear artist friend for whom all of life was captured on canvas. She would bring life to the brides bouquet from her garden and bring it along. As we were in this land of enchantment where time is suspended and does not follow any reality most know, being comfortable waiting is acceptable, well almost expected and allows for adventure in the waiting moments. Even though one may have a part to play in a days event, there are higher callings … callings so strong one can not reject them. It’s the call of the yard sale. Yes, the call of the yard sale. Unexpected, sure. Necessary, no. Like hearing the pied piper’s call, my bouquet bearer could not pass up the offering.
A set of bone china was shining in the bright high sun … calling from the yard sale. So our wait was not in vain, we were to learn of her adventure soon enough and revel in her prize. We would ooh and ahh as we inspected the bone china giving it the power it needed. We all knew in our hearts, the bone china would be the winner of the day but we didn’t speak about those things, all was already in motion. And the bone china became the best remembered guest of the day and it continues to grace the bouquet bearers shelf … it’s longevity a testament to choices.
Like a minstrel, the trickster laughed and the bride and groom are no more, and the wheel of life continues to spin.
I’m casting my wishes out to you and asking all who read this to wish for me these things as I will wish for their needs fulfilled. Would there be a correct way to wish? Would it matter? I should hope not. If I call out to the universe, I think I will personify it and it should be female, a goddess. I would think the universe personified is rather creative and would be accepting of all ways. So, I hope you are listening and can spare me a bit of your time.
You know all the details, how I went from up to down and blue to red, the extremes were such. I think you set it that way because I wasn’t asking for what I wanted or needed. Perhaps you had to make it so in order to make me change. I’m ready. Hear me please!
I wish for home, cozy and happy, three bedrooms and two baths, if you will, with lots of light and filled with joy and magic. The walls should be painted with warmly and the floors should be strong wood to withstand happy times and dance. I know it will have big windows from which the world can be seen. A great kitchen where happy, healthy meals will be shared and warm friendships made. There should be a sweet dog and a very bossy cat living with us, happy as can be. I wish for a garden where I can grow fragrant flowers, wild herbs and healthy food. A place of beauty and grace.
I wish for a school for my son where he will thrive and become and I wish it all in a place where we are safe and happy … a place where we will know our neighbors and they know us, where we can walk from one path to another. I wish health, happiness, light, love and prosperity for my son. I wish him to hold happy dreams and loving memories.
purpose in work, a job that I love and enjoy being my best at, where my work has meaning and where the people are mindful. I wish for the finances to sustain all for which I ask allowing the freedom of no worries.
I wish for my friends and family to be around, to share and enjoy.I wish to dance and sing and be happy … and I wish to share that happiness with the world. I wish for love, Dear Universe, easy simple love.
a visit to Italy would be divine.
I’m casting my wishes out to you, my Universe
… and for you my reader … As you wish for yourself, so I wish for you also!
with sunlight on the floor
a chimney with a rose hearth
and lilacs by the door
with windows looking east and west
and a crooked apple tree
and room beside the garden fence
for hollyhocks to be!
Sunday night into Monday morning sometime I had a dream of which I can only remember one part. In that part, I notice something in my mouth, it feels like a small piece of glass. I open my mouth to take it out and I find that crystals are growing on my tongue. Large, very large crystals and I start to remove them. They are so large, I must manipulate my mouth, and twist my head slowly to find a way to get them out. I remember clearly just one, the first one to come out, very large, looking like a mountain of sorts, milky white and amber with gold flecks throughout the amber in a strip.
I don’t know what it means and spent the better part of yesterday looking up dream interpretation sites. I even joined a forum and received two answers but they conflicted and so I am left wondering.
The masks are what I find fascinating and beautiful, amazingly crafted as art
And the costumes … wonderfully exquisite!
Ahhh, excuse me … the pageantry made me want to write in swirls …
I wonder how many mistook their lovers in such costumes ….
The snow came again today slow and fine for an unimaginable time so it seemed. This scene, taken from the back of our home, looks almost magical. Makes me want to dance and swirl through the paths of snow, arms out to embrace, around and around in the blue light of late day.
"The hush of night and pale moonlight beckon you to seek their mysteries, and you heed their call. The darkness is your haven, free from prying eyes and their judgements. Magic rules the night and comes alive in the shadows. Here your spirit glides on moonbeams and your wings are caressed by whispers in the wind, and all is as it should be for the Night Faery."