Welcoming Spring in the woods

It felt like an absolute necessity. To get away from the small urban circuit that for the last 4 months or more, we'd been hoofing, strollering and biking. Home to daycare. Daycare to work. Work to grocery store to daycare. Daycare to home. For the week end regular walks to the hydrostone district and Needham park. With the exception of a bi-weekly excursion to Dartmouth, city of lakes- no offence Grahms Grove- you kept me sane there is no question about it- we were all in serious need of some wilderness immersion before we shrivelled up into little husks blown around on the vaste expanse of urban pavement.

Being at Windhorse farm was the perfect way to celebrate spring solstice- so wonderful that i did not take a single photograph. I'll have to go back to do that. Grin. If you'd like to read more about the experience of being in the forest please visit my other blog Tales from the Urban Forest.

Winter Transport

Waiting for the Bus,
Cold burns through the soles of my boots.
Crow cocks his head at my strange dance
in the narrow band of pale sunlight
streaming weakly between the buildings.

A collection

a bouquet of yellow maple leaves collected under blue fall sky
crushed by my son's small hands a day after first snow
a goose or duck down feather
onion skins peeled by my daughter who has just learned to walk and my son awaiting patiently for her to talk
mouse droppings
a dust bunny of my last orange cat's hair and mine and bits of us all
sand from the lake
sand from the beach
a glass shard from the smashed shot glass

Artist Shaman

Every time I see an exposition of contemporary art I think it: Artists are today's Shamans.

The mundane and the sacred are irrevocably connected in my mind. The acts of cleaning, washing, sweeping, cooking, sorting, burning become spell making, the careful attention and awareness brought to the activity become intent. I learn as I go and trust my intuition. It tells me when I need to do my work.

Sitting

envelope