Body Clock

We've gone back to Standard Time. If Daylight Savings Time never happened, I would be ecstatic. My body does not take easily to time changes; Standard Time is where everything feels more comfortable.

I woke up easily this morning...and feel as if I have had enough sleep. When the six AM wake-up call comes during Daylight Savings time, I have great trouble squinting awake.

Meal times are also easier for me. I am ready to eat now, when it is time to eat breakfast or dinner. That one little hour makes all the difference.

During my children's growing up years, the transition in time was difficult, when it turned to Daylight Savings Time. The alarm clock rang way too early then, and crankiness was usually the first behavior of the day.

There is a joy I feel when life returns to "normal"...when Standard Time ushers in more balance in my life. I can't explain it; I just feel better. Life fits into my body rhythms easily.

There is a fascinating look at the way the body clock works at Research! Penn State web site. According to this article, my body is my best timekeeper. At dawn, blood pressure rises...its sharpest rise...waking me, getting me up. Around noon, my liver enzymes kick into full speed ahead, in anticipation of food. I guess that's why I like brunch much better than an early breakfast.

In the evening, my pineal gland at the base of my brain begins producing melaton- in...slow- ing me down and making me sleepy. As I sleep, my body temperature drops, keeping me asleep. At dawn, as light hits the retinas...the body stops making melatonin and my temperature rises. And along with the rise in body temperature, goes the rise in blood pressure...and the whole rhythm starts again.

There are fluctuations, of course. As researchers gather more evidence, it becomes clear how complicated the body's timekeeping system becomes. There is evidence that the body works better on a 25-hour clock rather than a 24.

All I know is, I fit better into the world on Standard Time. And when they mess with that, by taking away that hour in the Spring, my body rhythm is way off. It's as if all Summer long, I am searching for that lost hour.

Over time, I've solved that issue...I tend to live in a timeless manner, as it happens. My body clock seems to be well regiment- ed; if I heed the messages sent by my body, if I become aware of its needs, I am able to function well. It is the world outside mine that calls for appointments, where a different world is measured by the clock. Some would say this is the "real world".

But I am a creature of habit...I eat regularly, sleep the hours my body tells me to, have consistent blood pressure and body temperature levels. I must be doing something right.

Especially when I'm back on Standard Time...when I've found the missing hour.

Life's Purpose

There's a stiff North West Wind blowing this morning...I heeded the call to take just a few more pictures of the incredible Autumn show of colour this year.

For the last while, the backyard has given us blazing fire engine reds, yellows and oranges to rival the Sun, and royal purples and burgundies for king-like balance.

Spring was beautiful; full of promise. Autumn is fulfilling that promise, shouting out with joy at another successful season of growth.

Leaves fly through the air, for great distances, sometimes, until Wind lets them drift to the Earth, where they settle in colourful clumps, their life purpose complete.

As I meandered through the garden, the inevitable thoughts entered my mind...what is my life's purpose? Why am I here? What have I done that has value?

As I ticked off the events of my life in my head, wondering if the way I dealt with each crisis or celebration in my life would be considered correct, given a pass, by the Powers That Be...I remembered Dan Millman's book "The Life You Were Born to Live". It is a guide to finding your life's purpose. I was drawn to it years ago, and I have referred to this book so many times, for myself and others.

I follow the 26/8 path, on Mr. Millman's Life-Purpose System. I am, during this lifetime, to work with abundance, power and recognition. Because our life purpose gives us inherent challenges, I have trouble with issues relating to money, power, authority, control and recognition.

Hmmm. No kidding. Sometimes I don't want to be figured out so clearly.

Most of what Mr. Millman says about me is absolutely correct. Mr. Millman is also a 26/8, and he understands himself very well. I follow his advice often...especially when it comes to money issues. He has a quote from someone in his book..."I don't like money, but it quiets my nerves."

How true. I would much rather, so much rather, live without the need for money. I don't even carry cash... With money, I don't see the whole...how it is just a form of energy, giving a fair balance to any exchange. It is not all or nothing...abundance or poverty. There is a middle ground.

And power...yikes! It's taken me years to learn my own power. And even now, I still give it away!

But Mr. Millman's book spans a lifetime of learning from various life lessons, some huge and some small. It is a comfort to know that I am still learning...I don't have to understand it all now.

And some things, perhaps I will never understand. That's the way of it.

So, as I watch the leaves swirl and dance, singing their final song, around me, I notice they look extremely joyous! As if it didn't matter, in their final hours, if their Life's Purpose was totally fulfilled...they were going Home. With more knowledge and wisdom than before they came...

When the time comes, that's the way it will be for me.

Inner Peace

These old photos show a young Graham climbing to the top of Uncle Ben's Wall. When he climbed, his focus was entirely in the present...all worries and anxieties were left behind, at the start of the climb.

When I am totally in the present, in the now, my life is far more peaceful. I forget the fears I have from past experiences that can colour my every move. My actions feel free; I lose interest in other people's movements and behavior.

I feel content with where I find myself in life. Everything and everybody are left to their own devices; I no longer feel the constant need to fix it all.

When I practice living in the moment, I smile more, my blood pressure goes down, and I feel far more connected to Nature and her Beings. My outer Body reflects the Inner peace; frown lines disappear, my body straightens, and there is a lift to my step. I find myself smiling for no reason at all.

Life, I find, takes strategy and battle tactics that are better made from a balanced mind, one that holds no past fears or future anxieties. The "shoulds" and the "what ifs" are better left behind, when a battle looms.

I find I cannot always be present, however. Life's lessons intrude, and before I know it, inevitably I find myself in a maelstrom of project- ions, if onlys, and woe-is-me's...

It takes total awareness of where my thoughts are leading me, at times; where this frame of mind is certainly does not induce Inner Peace.

Can you imagine if Graham faced climbing this wall, with its deadly overhang looming and taunting from above, with any thought other than where he was and what he was doing, at that moment?

He faced the Rock Wall with clear Intent, with Impeccability, with Authority...and above all, he stood fast against any Fear that came knocking. He analyzed the Wall from a balanced position. Anything else may have led to disaster.

And at that moment of total awareness of all things around him, right then, his body would have worked perfectly, in harmony with the messages sent from the Rock surrounding him. It would have worked from a place of Inner Peace.

Judgment, worry, conflict, fear...these traits disappear for me, if I practice living in the moment. It is a relief to know I can let life happen, the way it is meant to...without my thinking that I want to change the way my life has and will evolve. It is a relief to finally find acceptance.

And with it, huge measures of Inner Peace.

Black Gold

The mulch I ordered from Earthbank arrived this afternoon. Five yards of black gold...it looks as if it will take a long time to move to the various garden beds!

Besides the new bed I am making,( right behind the picture of the pile) I will also add two or three inches of this mulch to the existing beds.

Earthbank compost is certified organic. Fish waste is used in the making of it, along with ground up wood waste from the Forestry Industry.

This compost is the result of a two-year long process. And it competes with synthetic fertilizers with aplomb, gaining Rodale's Seal of Approval for Organic Gardeners.

When I prepare the bed, all wood waste...branches, small trees and limbs...will be placed aside for the Town's bi-annual wood chipping programme. Then I will rough up the soil that's there, digging a little, breaking Earth's crust. I must be ever-mindful of Cork's roots.

Then my leaf harvest will be put to use. At one time, I owned land that had large-leaf Maple Trees, and I would chop those leaves up with the lawn mower. But the leaves I have now break down quickly...they are not as tough and leathery as Maple's. And they are much smaller.

After I place the cardboard pieces over the cleaned area, I spread the leaves over it. Then I mix those leaves with some soil and some compost. I usually try for ten inches or so of this soil mix over the cardboard.

Then I will place Daffodil, so that she looks as if she has always been there. Some of the plants Evelyn gave me will also be placed, their roots spread out and comfortable.

And then, I will cover the plants and bulbs with more compost, leaves and soil.

It will take a while to do all this, as there are Boulders that also have to be planted. But I am a Stone person, and the Rocks seem to know this...they fall into place easily, finding the perfect place to be.

Taking receipt of the Compost was a large step ahead, in my procrastination and fear of hurting myself with hard labour. I see the pile every time I park in the driveway. It sits there, patiently, calling my name. Telling me how beautiful this area will be in the Spring and giving me incentive to face the blustering Wind and cold that has suddenly appeared, showing signs of an early Winter.

And tempting me with it's black beauty, it's friable nature. Compost like this speaks to a Gardener's soul. When I work with it, spreading it, covering the beds with Nature's blanket, I become part of the earth. I become part of the process. I have time to just be, right here, right now.

With peace and serenity.

Morning Rainbows

We've had some rain recently...I think the rainy season has started. I captured a rainbow here, early one morning, just at sunrise.

What a wonderful way to greet the Sun! It peeked through the mist, dispelling the Rain, to the sound of water dripping off the leaves of the Trees.

In my research, I find that one can only see Rainbow with Sun behind one. And that it is impossible to walk under Rainbow.

Legends tell Rainbow's story in differing ways. Some African tribes feel a Rainbow foreshadows bad luck, because it will stop the rain, which was needed for crops.

Rainbows bring light into the darkness, grounding negativity. It's the symbol of Iris, the Messenger of the Gods. Rainbows bring a sense of joy and energy...Rainbows bring hope.

It was needed that dark morning. Sometimes all the little troubles in life join up and become one huge, menacing, black ball. And it colours the surrounding world into a dull, troubled place.

One where I forget there is light...and hope.

Rainbow reminded me. I watched the ribbons of colour shoot across the sky, and my heart lifted. I remembered just in time, that morning, the very great gratitude I feel about where I am today.

I felt the energy that Rainbow sends. It flowed through me until a smile replaced the frown, the anxiety and fear I felt was displaced with peace. I could feel myself become grounded and balanced. My emotional, spiritual, mental and physical bodies, when I applied the balance meter, were aligned at that moment...and the serenity I strive for appeared.

It is reminders like these that I need in my life...far too often, for my liking, I forget the light that shines. I don't see it, I feel closed off.

But there are always messages from Spirit that arrive in my deepest, darkest communion with my negative self. Sometimes, the messenger brings just a small pinprick of light, which grows, finally glowing steadily, if I focus hard on it.

Rainbow's message of hope was a big one for me that morning, bright and unforgett- able. What might have been a sad, fearful day turned into one of joy and peace.

I don't think I could ask for anything better than that.

A New Garden Bed

Evelyn, Graham's barber, called the other day. In the course of the conver- sation, she asked if we wanted any plants from her garden. As all gardeners know, the Autumn is a perfect time to divide overgrown plants. As a result, all too often in small city lots we have too many plants for the space.

I never turn down plants. As it happens, in this case, I am building a new garden bed. I haven't actually started yet; the plants from Evelyn are a little early. But it will give me motivation. Seems I need that this year.

I have been procrastinating. I read somewhere that this isn't an excuse...we can label ourselves anything we wish, but it is still an excuse. So I will do as the article said...and just start. Somewhere. Anywhere. And then, things will flow from there.

My first step is to call Earthbank, for the soil I will need. Living on a city lot makes it hard to have the ingredients for a new garden bed at hand. I used to have piles where leaves and season's end plants would compost and build into beautiful, black mulch. But no more...that is a luxury I have no more room for, those compost piles. Our two small composters can in no way keep up with my requirements.

Once I have the soil delivered, I will feel the gardener's blood pumping...and I will be on my way. Rain, hail, wind...it won't matter then. With the silken, black soil and sometimes muddy black earth covering me from head to foot, the new bed will suddenly appear. What is bush and weeds right now, will emerge groomed and planted, looking as if it has always been there.

I will start with the huge Rock Pile, the leftovers from the backyard. It will have to be spread out and the Rocks planted. Then I will cut down Black- berry... I will not be able to completely eradicate it, though, nor do I want to. Birds love this berry, and as long as I can keep it in check, I will leave some of it there.

And then the Cork trees. The link I have given shows the living harvest that is taken from the bark of this Tree. The Trees in the side yard, where the new bed is going to be, have never been harvested, and their bark is still crumbly...and probably always will be, since these Trees will not be harvested. But they are beautiful, have their own funny personalities, and give us great privacy from our neighbours.

These Trees send out many babies, however. And I shall have to be ruthless with them...something I'm not good at. But if there is to be a bed here, there is no other choice.

Then, once I have a clear area, I will spread cardboard I have saved over the bed. This will cut down on the weeding that will, of course, be required later. Then I will spread the dirt, and mix compost and leaf mulch with the soil. I will place bulbs...daffodils, since this area is outside of the fence, where plentiful Deer populations abound...before I have all the soil in place. Saves me digging later on. And I will place the plants Evelyn gave us.

Then I will cover the whole thing with more soil...and there...we'll have a new bed. The Corks will be able to breathe...and they will receive the humidity they crave, while still retaining their dry feet.

Sounds like a lot of work. In years gone by, I would work at a project like this until it was finished, from dawn to dusk. But my body refuses to let me do that now...the arthritis will flare up. I think that is part of the reason I procrastinate so much now, when it comes to hard work. I can no longer work until the project is done...it has to be done in small increments.

And I am impatient.

But life changes...at least I can still work hard for short periods of time. I am grateful for that.

Perhaps, by working slower, the new garden bed will show the care that may have been missing in my younger years, when I built quickly.

One thing for sure, this area will be welcoming, when it is complete, showing the neighbourhood that a gardener lives here...one who can still build new garden beds, even through arthritis, procrastination, and middle age.

A Stone's Advice

Many years ago, just after the death of my daughter, on a camping trip to Rathtrevor Beach, I found this stone pictured here.

We were walking on a rocky part of the beach, searching for shells and odd bits of glass that Ocean, during her furious storms, sends to the land, hiding them in the crevices of the stones and logs.

How I managed to see it I'll never know. I have poor eyesight. I recognized the power in it, however, somewhere deep inside myself. In my innocence at the time, I picked it up and took it with me. I know better now. I leave items I find on the beach or elsewhere where they are, unless I hear from my guides that they are expressly for me.

Rocks and Stones have their own personalities. It is said that Shamans of old used to hide their souls in Rock, and not all the souls are good, gentle ones.

I was protected the day I picked up this particular stone. I felt I had found a treasure, this stone with its deep crevasse. I brought it home and placed it in my garden; when I moved, Graham reminded me of the stone and we took it with us to our new home.

I did not immed- iately place the stone under Grand- father Tree. Nothing was land- scaped in the backyard, and I placed it in the front yard, beside a hydrangea bush. But when I built the Medicine Wheel around Grandfather Tree, it was a natural place for it to be...Stone belonged there. Grandfather Tree has been hit by lightning twice; it is apparent where the strikes landed on the Tree. It is a place of incredible power, easily felt.

I have never explored the crevasse carved into Stone by the water and sand, wind and waves. It is not an area I should be. It is very deep, however, perhaps almost to the bottom wall of the Stone.

Before I placed Stone under Grandfather Tree, the crevasse sometimes dried out. But since it has been placed as part of the Medicine Wheel, there is now always water in the hole.

It is a mystery to me why. I water by hand, carefully directing the stream to the plant's roots, definitely not watering Stone. And it has been a long, dry summer, with very little rain.

Yet this Stone captures water, and keeps it, even through the hottest, driest weeks.

It sits under Grandfather Tree; his branches are very full, keeping the soil beneath extremely dry. Even so, Stone wicks water; his gift to the Medicine Wheel. His crevasse is an eternal well; he shows me the urgency of continuing to express my feelings...to not, as is my wont, keep them bottled up inside. To give my words and feelings, during meditation, to Stone, allows me to let go and accept.

In my research, I find sites describing Stones with holes. As fascinating as they are, my Stone's hole does not go all the way through. I don't know his history...all I know is, Stone and Grandfather Tree send vibrations of Energy through me whenever I pass by. And also to others, who stand quietly, not realizing what they are sensing, but feeling peaceful nonetheless.

Stone takes my words and emotions; he cleanses and balances them and sends them back to me...for use in a more healthy way. He looks innocuous...but he's not. His power is hidden in a mantle of innocence. And any advice he gives me is understood and listened to.

A wondrous Ally, indeed.

A Dream Introduction

By far and away, most of my nightly journeys remain just snippets of memories, after the initial dream- state awakening. It is as if they recede into the mists, there but just out of sight...

My dreams of late have taken on an urgent quality...as if the message has to be given in a sharp, sometimes very emotional manner.

I remember asking my guides, not so long ago, to help me recognize the signs and messages that are given in dreams. And they have complied, with very direct, succinct images and words. You get what you ask for.

Last night, I was given an introduction to Graham's Father. I had never met his Dad; he had died long before I met Gray. In my dream, a knock came to my back door. It was sharp, peremptory, and required answering.

Opening the door, I find a strange, misty light, with beams of ever-changing colours. There is nothing there, but the fine particles of effervescence.

At the bottom of the stairs, there is a figure that shifts and changes with the light, finally coalescing into the figure of a man with his hands in his pockets. He is dressed well, this dark-haired gentleman. I don't know how I know that, as he is hazy in the mist. But the energy he presents tells me he knows how to project himself with authority.

Instantly I realize that this man is Gray's Father. I have looked at photos at some point in the past, but I don't remember what he looked like, when he was alive. He seems stern, as if he expects me to listen and to have respect for what he has to say. His demeanor is at odds with his calm stance; with his hands in his pockets he is at ease, yet very alert. He finally places a foot on the bottom of the three-step staircase, as if he wants to reach a little closer, but is inhibited in some way.

I notice his hair is dressed; perhaps it is not so dark after all. We speak. He commands me to hear what he wants me to remember of his words, and I find myself repeating them back to him. I find myself shouting the words out, feeling a little foolish, in my dream.

I wake myself up, shouting. I shout out the words once again...they are directed at Graham, the message is for him. The words are Remember the Binder.

Gray slept on, muttering a little, and I turned over, feeling content, as if I had successfully completed the mission given me. I remembered the words once again when the alarm clock rang, and told him.

Graham says his father always stood with his hands in his pockets, at ease and yet not. A Military man, his father had a commanding presence. And he used dressing in his hair, making it look dark brown.

Graham has a four hour exam- ination this morning, one in which he requires a Binder.

I told him his father would be with him.

Sometimes I find that dream visitors only want to remind me that they are still a part of us, that they only want the best for us. And this dream visitor, in the reminding, met his son's partner, as a bonus.

I hope I passed the test.

A Village Thanksgiving

There was a festive, family coming for dinner kind of feel in the village of Qualicum yesterday. Everywhere one looked, there were stunning displays of Nature's final autumnal glory. And everywhere were the reunited families, out enjoying the sunshine, albeit with a stiff breeze from the shimmering Ocean.

These vibrant tones of yellows, reds, oranges and browns, like a fanfare of cymbals and drums, set off the holiday season with symphonic harmony. It was picture perfect, and I used my imagination when I saw so many families out and about. What were their lives all about...was this young girl home from university, going for a walk with her grandmother? Were these boys with the elderly gentleman over there spending time with their grandfather?

In the grocery store, there seemed much merriment as members of families went shopping together, discussing favourites and what items were absolutely required. Uncle Charlie's predilection for creamed onions, and the results of his passion brought howls of laughter to two young women. I was eavesdropping, I will admit, but also started to laugh at Uncle Charlie's unfortunate digestion...and before I knew it, the young women told me many such stories, every one told with a giggle. And each story was told with anticipation of seeing these members of their family...each story was told with acceptance and love.

I left the store, feeling what a difference it makes when acceptance of each other's foibles is involved. How much humour helps in situations where things are happening entirely against my better nature.

Laughter like the young women and I shared brought good Energy; made the routine shopping I was doing a joy.

Traffic was busy this day in the centre of town, both cars and walkers and scooters or other electrified contrivances. Was it my imagination or were people happier, not so quick to anger? Usually cars will circle the car park, over and over, waiting for someone to release a space, and people can get wound up in the process. Yesterday, with the holiday forefront in their minds, family that surrounded them, and favourite routines firmly in place...there were smiles on peoples faces.

It was a day that brought gratefulness to the forefront, and it seemed to ease troubled minds.

We had a terrific meal at Heidi's and Darren's place. Some family members were missing, but their presences at the table were still easily sensed. Camaraderie and laughter abounded during the dinner, and the turkey was consumed with great gusto.

Thanksgiving, families and humour...these were the predominant features of the day, helped along by the anticipation of more...many more... of these dinners over the years to come.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Forests

Years ago, when I needed to find an answer or seek knowledge or just gain Energy, I would walk into the Secret Forest, situated behind my home where I lived at the time. It had been aptly named by my granddaughter Bree. Big old trees lived here...grand old firs living amongst an understory of salal, ferns...amazing wildflowers of all kinds lifted their heads, each in their turn.

Mushrooms proliferated. Chanterelles, on some years, were more plentiful than we could eat. There were huckleberries, salmonberries, blackberries...and wildlife visited often, hiding in those secret places in the Forest.

Some ancient stumps looked like giant caves, lifting their huge maws to the sky. They were always covered with babies, these old stumps. They housed multitudes of families of grouse and pheasants and other wildlife. Some animal was always surprising me, when I walked amongst them, deep in thought. On rainy days, the Forest would be hushed, watching and waiting. The only sound, deep in the Secret Forest, was that of water dripping down from the tree tops, nourishing the Earth beneath. But once Rain fled for other parts, sounds of wildlife exploded from the branches of the trees and the shrubbery beneath.

If I ventured off the path, it was hard going. So many fallen branches underneath the lush salal were sure to make me trip, at least once or twice. There were huge sunken depressions in the earth that filled with winter's water, harbouring frogs and other amphibious creatures. Bushes would reach out their arms to snag my clothes, further impeding the treacherous progress. And sometimes, there would be gigantic fallen logs, slippery with moss, where it seemed there was nothing to do but retreat.

It was my place of sanctuary; it was where I sought balance. We have huge old Forests here in Qualicum Beach, but they seem impersonal to me; I have not yet made friends with the beings who live here. I have not meandered off the path, where I would find huge fallen trees, all nurse logs. I have not visited daily, so I miss the sudden flowering patches of wild violets that arises seemingly from nowhere. Life changes every hour, sometimes, in the Forests.

I miss the Secret Forest with a fierce longing, at times. There is a part of me that goes away when I don't commune with fine old Trees, the ones who have stood for longer than my own years. Grandfather Tree does a fine job of communicating his wisdom; but the clamour of a wild Forest soothes and balances me. It connects me to Earth, shows me that meandering off the trodden path can bring great joy, at the sights that may be seen just over the next obstacle.

I connect like that with the Forests of Queen's Bay, in Balfour, where John and Clo live, and where we spent the last part of our vacation. I did not have much time to wander in the Forest that surrounds their home this visit, but the familiar energy was there.

It reminded me, once more, that there are many Forests, all over the world. Many that give succor and sustenance to the beings that inhabit them, and the people that live there. It takes time to know the habitat; I haven't taken the time to know the grand old Forests here.

Is it perhaps because I do not want to become attached to a Forest and its life once again? Maybe it will disappear from my life, just as all the Forests I have known which are no longer visited, except in my dreams. Am I finding it too much effort to wander and familiarize myself in a Forest I do not own? It is a mystery to me.

The Forests are calling, though; I hear them clearly. As I drive to visit my mother, the road winds through Cathedral Grove, a place of immense beauty. I have little time on these days...I tell myself I will stop here the next time I come. But the voices from the Trees, as I drive, are becoming louder, and next time must happen soon.

As I walk among the Tree beings, I will make sure to listen, and balance, and ground. A Forest I have grown up beside deserves a visit, and I, along with all of us, need the wisdom it has to impart.

And since I'm increasingly feeling as if I am lost in a wild, untamed Forest, with unforeseen branches and logs just waiting to trip me up, and crevices around every corner, I will ask for guidance to find my way.

There are gentle, serene Glades, too.

Stonehenge and Donut Peaches

Do you feel the loneliness and sadness in these photos of a replica of Stonehenge? Situated in Mary's Hill, Washington, it is a quiet, windswept place, overlooking the Columbia River.

Sam Hill, a railroad tycoon, had visited Stonehenge on the Salisbury Plain in England with Lord Kitchener, in 1915. Lord Kitchener, a Secretary of State for War supposedly told Sam Hill, a Quaker, that the ancients of 4,000 years ago offered bloody sacrifices to the Gods of War.

This is no longer what the belief about England's Stonehenge is, but at the time Sam Hill, a pacifist, felt that modern warfare was a form of needless human sacrifice. He told his biographer, John Tuhy, that he built the Maryhill Stonehenge "to remind my fellow man of (that) incredible folly."

The Altar Stone was dedicated in 1918. The replica became a war memorial in progress. It was the first of its kind in the Northwest, and perhaps in all of the US at the time, with six names inscribed at the time of the dedication. More would be added, until there were 13 fallen war dead from Klickitat County whose memory lingers on at this memorial.

The completed monument was dedicated on May 30, 1929. Local stone was considered of poor quality, so 1,650 tons of concrete were used for the constructions of the pillars. In order to provide a surface closer to the original in England, the wooden concrete molds were lined with tin, giving the appearance of weathered rock.

The sadness that stays within the circle is palpable; on a hot day, in a sweater, I felt chilled, I almost wept, for these souls memorialized here. Their remains are scattered throughout the world...yet they linger here.

We were showered with a golden light throughout our visit there. I held my tears, pinching my nose...overwhelmed with melancholy. This was the hidden log in Shaman Maggie's forest, and I asked my guides's aid.

I walked around, touching each plaque, hearing and learning about these young men from Klickitat County, who gave their lives for their country, in what was supposed to be "the war to end all wars"...and I felt the maelstrom of energy that surrounded me calm, become more peaceful.

This is really all they want, the Dead, a deep soul connection and recognition of their time on Earth.

We left the Stonehenge Memorial, pondering the lives of those boys who died...feeling their presence with us still.

We had decided to spend the night at Yakima...I was amazed at the growth of that city since the last time I spent time there. We stopped at the Tourist Bureau, and were welcomed with a beautiful apple and a donut peach, and had accommodations found for us.

It was just what we needed...a respite from the road beside a meandering river, with a wonderful walkway along it.

We planned the rest of our trip, visits to Leavenworth, a stay at Wenatchee, another stay at Spokane or its environs and finally, back to Canada, our destination Queen's Bay on the Kootenay Lake.