Clearing

During the time we've spent here, we've changed the look of the place. It once had brush growing almost right to the front door; the back area was completely grown in.  I had to wait, in the beginning, in order to be sure of where I was going to go with landscaping and building a greenhouse and woodworking shop.


Wait...the very word sends chills down my spine. I am not good with waiting, as long-time readers know. Last year, patience was the last thing on my mind; I wanted the garden to be done. Now. But there were many other items which had to be considered first...such as the interior of the house, which took precedence.

But this year...ahhh, this year... my time will be focused on gardening.  We are almost done with the interior...we have sold the old kitchen cupboards and appliances and this area will now become a huge mudroom/pantry/laundry room. The room will have built-ins...such as a linen closet, which for one reason or another, the house doesn't have.  I still shake my head when I remember unpacking piles of sheets and towels and discovering there was no place to put them...very disconcerting.



So, there are still a few things which must be done inside the house.

But the weather is glorious...we had a sprinkling of Rain, which makes every Shrub and Tree shine...the Aspens are beginning to show their sweet green beginnings, and the wild flowers are showing their tender new leaves as well.  This morning the temperatures were above freezing and Sun shone brightly, warming the soil.


And finally, it is time to garden.


I have found one aspect of gardening...the clearing of land... brings instant gratification.  Suddenly, what once appeared as impenetrable bushy landscape, has become open and inviting, even without any domesticated plants gracing the area. And I learn, as I clear. I learn how fertile the soil is, where once the bushes grew...their leaves, over the years, have broken down and created a very dark loam. I learn some of these places are moist and the soil is far more damp than that of places closer to the house. I finally find moss-covered areas.



It makes a huge difference when there is leaf mould to act as mulch, keeping the moisture in the earth.



I discover wild flowers, which, last year, were completely hidden. My plan was to plant in this area; this has changed, since I will wait to see what inhabits the places under the Aspens.

Roses are planted, however, along the driveway, above the retaining wall.  I visualize visitors being greeted by the scent and sight of the lovely blossoms...Roses will do well here, with sharp drainage, good soil and a warming shelf just above them.


It is a time for surprises.  After the Winter, where I despaired of ever seeing last year's plantings again, where I was sure they had all expired from the cold, I see new leaf growth.  The Hostas are all poking their sharp spikes upward...and Daffodil, even after Squirrel attack, is beginning to bloom.


And all the Lilacs are well on their way, with thick buds gracing the plants. Lilacs remind me of daughter Katrina, even though she's been gone for so many years, each one but a minute since her death. She was born in the month of May, and she walks closely with me during this magical month. She comes back to see her favourite flower bloom...I feel her very near. 

And...oh, she's so very welcome!


As I prune and clean, I find the meditative zone I go into, when there is repetitive work to be done, in the garden. Pain and general malaise fades into the background; I hear the music of the songbirds instead, displacing bodily pain. I become very intent upon the pruning and cutting...it is as if the plant and I are in harmony.


The atmosphere becomes different, when I clear.  It becomes lighter, less bogged. Air streams by, on the hands of Wind, cleansing dark and forgotten pockets of sludge. Warmth from Sun uncurl the tight buds of the wild Roses and Saskatoon Berry, beginning a glorious, new cycle of life.


I spend hours revelling in the pleasure of being here, right now, with no other thought than what I am doing at the present moment.


Clearing the land or clearing the mind...it is all the same, to me.

Musing With Stones

When I first arrived here, in the Cariboo and on this property, I wondered if I would ever find the deep connection I have had to other lands in the past.

There were no gardens here.  And in hindsight, this was a very good thing.
 

In order to feel the Spirit of the land, I had to work with it.  I worked with Stones and Boulders this time, noting the gargoyles and mischievous elves on the faces of the Stones. I walked the excavated earth; I noted which Stones I wanted...and then I picked them up (or in some cases, rolled them) and put them in their new places.

Each time I did this, I noted a pleasant feeling, a feeling of rightness and peace, deep in my soul. It was strong and very grounding.


I picked up a few favourite Stones the other day.  I placed them along the railing of the Deck, in order to sense their special energy a little more often than some I work with.

Large Boulder is easier for me to sense than these much smaller ones. He has become a confidante; the other day I sensed a bolt of his warm energy that quite took me aback. It is time, I think, to visit him a little more often, which will be much easier to do with the undergrowth melted away with the oncoming Winter's strong Wind.


His energy is much the same as Grandfather Tree has.  I am grateful to have found Large Boulder...to have him receive my latest joys and woes, sending them back to me with a slower, easier perspective.


The anxiety the financial Winds have carried lately seep away when I work with Stones.  Stones have stories to tell of the past and predictions of the future, if I listen well and with strong awareness.

The uppermost message I receive is all is exactly as it should be, here, today and now. The World is changing, I hear, and it is a process.  In order to get from here to there takes time and great energy...blasting through a wall sometimes causes greater shredding destruction than long, slow curves around it.


And I hear them counsel patience...a trait I seem to have been born without...I hear them remind me of the youth of the World who already demonstrate a different way.  I am reminded of the power youth has. I was one, once, in an earlier time...


Musing with Stones as an ally takes time.  Stones tell their stories, sometimes with great sonorous sighs, slowly. It does no good to hurry them.


But I come away with a great sense of Hope.  Indeed, youngsters are now being taught to honour the Earth and her bounty. Much more than I ever was.


Working with these Stones is an opportunity I can experience here, on this gravelly, hilly property. There is no lack of them; they seem to move around on their own, sometimes. And at other times, a Stone will resist being moved...if it does not want to move easily, I leave them be.


It is an opportunity to know Stone's energy, living here...being propelled here. There is a reason for it.


And all I have to do is have Patience.  


And Hope.




Note: These photos of Grandson Graydon were taken by Granddaughter Bree, a talented photographer in her own right.

The Bench

On a bluff on our property, high above the tops of the Aspen and Birch far below, sits a small Bench, made out of stumps and a plank, painted an unfortunate green.

The Bench is innocuous, blending in with its surroundings, not noticeable, really, in any way...yet if one should happen to sit upon it, to gaze over the hillside...one is transported, without noticing a thing, to another realm.

It is a calm journey, not one that would frighten or startle...but suddenly one finds oneself soaring over the treetops, seeing the homes and the fields of the valley below. It is as if one were on a Magic Carpet...a little dizzying, but not a lot to be concerned about.

I first saw the Bench after the former owner told me about it...how, from there, it was possible to view the entire property. But I was below it, and didn't take the time to climb through the Snow to sit upon it.

I remembered it the other day, however. Snow is melting, dripping, gurgling and singing its farewell song, and the Bluff is clear, covered with Kinnikinnick, Roses and other Berries yet to be identified. The dogs and I climbed the small incline towards the Bench.

I sat down, the dogs panting and resting by my side.

It was one of the few warm days we've had. As Sun's golden rays touched my face and Wind tickled my ears, I closed my eyes, in order to listen more closely to Wind's guarded whisper. His caress over my face made me drowsy, like a child being stroked by his Mother.

Watch, said Wind, Listen and Remember...

How odd, I thought, Remember what? But Wind moved on, branches swaying in his path, leaving me to discover whatever it was for myself.

I heard Coyote in the distance, singing his lonely Song...one that reminds me of Loon, who once aroused the same feeling within me. A long time ago, by the pond of my childhood.

And as I followed Coyote's call, the land changed. Spring, with its attendant Bird calls and buzzing of Insects, was in full fruitfulness all around me. There were Flowers, colouring the landscape yellow and blue and pink and red, along with bright, young, green Grasses and Leaves.

I flew over the Aspen and Birch, noting the difference in their leaf colours, hearing the whisper of the Aspen leaves, like soft, gentle coastal Rain. I was shown, in the deep gully where the Grove grew, a huge stump, rotting and being further torn apart by Bear in his search for food. I saw where Moose congregated and Mule Deer browsed within their herds.

I heard the warning...Be aware, it is Spring. There are Youngsters about.

I journeyed on. I saw a large Rockery, filled with Herbs...Parsley, Rosemary, Thyme...and Sage. I saw Lilac Trees filling the air with their perfume. I saw Calendula and Clematis, tangling her witch's seed heads throughout the Big Firs. I saw a garden, and realized it was mine.

I saw an Eagle. I watched as he chased Snow Owl, who silently ducked into the Trees, with the prey he had stolen from Eagle. I lost sight of Owl, but my eyes followed Eagle, listening to his disgruntled rebuke. He circled and circled, trying to catch sight of Owl...but then wheeled off, calling once more. I flew with him, so easily, it seemed, from my perch on the Bench.

I flew over the countryside, a different land than the one I was familiar with. Lady Spring had touched her Wand over every Field, Tree and Flower and had painted the Cariboo all the colours of the Rainbow, shimmering and unreal to my startled eyes.

The dogs roused me. A nose nudged my hand. It was time to wander on.

After a deep dream such as this, when I am caught unaware, the colours that surround me are intensified. It is as if each Branch and Leaf, each Boulder, from the biggest to the smallest, have a luminous light that shimmers and shines, delineating each and every Being. The Land, though not Springlike, looked beautiful.

And I realized...each Season in its time.

Spring will arrive in all its glory. So will the warm, golden days of Summer, the crisp days of Autumn, and the cold, clear days of Winter. As sure as anything.

And becoming impatient for the end of Winter will not cure a thing...it will not change the cycle Mother Earth has found for herself.

I left the Bench, glancing back in awe and wonder. Had I, after only a couple of weeks, already found the Magical Place? Where journeys transpire, and where one understands the language of the Beings who inhabit this place?

A small, innocent Bench, painted an unfortunate green...who knew?

Hawks and Gardens

After a few nights of Frost making his hoary appearance, what was left of the garden requires some tender care. It's time to put the garden to bed.

I didn't buy any bulbs this year; perhaps I still have time. The later I put them in the beds, however, the later in the season blooms appear. Last year, I placed a few leftover Daffodil bulbs in the ground in February. They bloomed in July...pretty, but long past the time when their compatriots were singing Spring's song.

But what a beautiful day it was yesterday! Sun shone in a brilliant blue bowl. Leaves glowed golden against that heartbreakingly blue backdrop. It felt very spiritual; it was as if I was being visited by Spirits, who, as they sat on branches, lit the whole Tree with their golden light.

I rake leaves. These leaves look like jewels spilling out of a treasure chest, so bright with their Autumn plumage, it seems a shame to rake them into piles. But I need a blanket around some plants this year; I need the nourishment Leaf mulch applies to the soil. And the soil will also benefit from the Earthworms that will proliferate, as the Leaves break down.

It is rhythmic, raking...and as I go, I meditate...letting free flowing thoughts drift through my mind. Regular raking and Bird song, the crackle of the dry Leaves, the distant sound of a Soccer game in progress at the Park, with a deep grounding in the Earth, my feet planted firmly in the wet Lawn...it was what my Heart needed...

A comforting blanket of Leaves, one that will restore and balance me.

I hear the chittering of our newest resident...Squirrel. It seems to me his raison d'etre is to drive the Dogs into a frenzy. I can hear him laugh at them, way down on the ground, leaping and barking, trying so hard to reach this terrible threat to our safety.

I continue raking; the Dogs are easily worn out, as maturity finds its way into their being, and will soon resume dozing in Sun's warmth...still palpable, even in November.

I know I will have to rake again; there are many Leaves still clinging to branches, awaiting the arrival of another Wind Storm.

And so, after the beds are covered, I drag a few branches, trimmed from the Trees, out to be picked up by the Town's chipping crew. As I do, I notice, as any Gardener will, another chore that requires doing...and another...and oh, yes, over there!

But I take time out, to visualize and plan the new fence enclosure we are thinking of attempting some time soon. We will continue the fence line and enclose the garden shed and the recycling shed, with entry by large gates Graham is planning to build. It will give us much more space.

And much more room to garden.

There will be a Fruit tree...and perhaps a Nut tree, over there by the Hawthorn. I'm sure Squirrel would approve of that! And I plan to grow Sunflowers all along the fence line, which will give them support, as they nod their leonine golden heads at passersby.

I wander to where four potted plants have endured a Winter and a Summer, growing roots, becoming strong enough to take on the Rocky, Clay and Sand mixture of the top part of the garden.

I have promised them a home this Autumn. But I know the soil here is hard, unforgiving. I will have to amend it, with some sea soil I have left. And yet...these youngsters will have a difficult time of it, with their roots fighting Rock and Clay.

I have time to ponder whether I can even dig these holes. I may need a pick...and another pair of hands, another body.

I sense, rather than see, another presence with me, as I walk to where I left the shovel. And then the visiting vibrations become too strong to ignore...and I turn to see Hawk staring at me from the Berry structure.

He was young and curious. I held my breath...he was not far from me...I wanted to look at him, this youngster, as long as possible. He was very interested in me, as well...it still takes me aback as I discover animals are just as curious about humans as we are in them.

The staring match ended as he flew towards the forested area, and I was left smiling to myself. Hawk has only begun to show up with consistent regularity during the last few years. I have always held these Birds in awe; it is a comfort to have them with me.

As I begin to dig, scraping at the Rocks and scant Soil with my shovel, I hear a strange Bird call...an out of the ordinary Bird call. I lift my head, and there...just above me, on a utility wire, sits another Hawk.

And this one is a fully fledged adult...a Red Tail.

There are no mistakes, in this Universe, and so I stopped and leaned on my shovel, looking at his beauty, drinking in his Energy. His piercing gaze skimmed over me, his head never still, yet intuitively, I knew that he was aware of every minute particle of energy surrounding him.

He flies closer, still...this time to the top of the Ivy Tree. Again that piercing, rasping cry. I tell him...I realize you are King, master of your domain. I will not harm you.

Again his call. I do not understand birdspeak. I struggle, wanting to reassure him, not knowing how other than to send him pictures. I am not prepared for the pictures he sends back to me.

He shows me his habitat, with painfully clear acumen. I see forested areas, with logging cuts, with the Forest floor littered with logs and branches. In a split second, I understand he is showing me the desecration of his area...the area in which he usually resides. Now he lives here, he tells me, his range now shortened to the parkland in the Town.

The moment passes. I continue to stare at him, as he stares far off, into the distance. His voice...his unmistakable voice, one which Hawks usually use in flight, once again calling...and then he flies off, his mighty wings beating the Air.

My head spins, now. I sit on the steps, contemplating the visit. How unusual to see two Hawks, in a single day, I think. I muse over the visions I received...not so strange, when I see wildlife out of their element. What was unusual was the rapidity and the clarity of the pictures he sent.

Taking a deep breath, I continue to dig, scrabbling until I have holes deep enough to shelter the roots of these small bushes...Forsythia, Butterfly Bush, and Viburnum. They will shelter the smaller Birds, the ones that usually hover close to me as I garden...hoping for a Worm or two.

The plants are in, cozy and warm within the shelter of the Snake fence. I pick up my shovel, the pots that held the plants, and take a final look. My eyes are drawn once again to the top of the Ivy Tree, from where Hawk shared his message with me.

It is late afternoon now, with long shadows appearing. It is the kind of afternoon where a morning spent in raking leaves, cleaning garden beds, dreaming and planning a new Season, and communing with Hawks can leave me spent and satisfied.

It is the kind of day where raking ordinary fallen Leaves, tinted with magical colours, opens the door to a whole other World.

One in which Hawks reside, and Squirrels reign and Birds are Kings.

The Thin Veil

Last night, when I wandered outside with camera in hand, the only thought in my mind was taking pictures of the full Moon rising.

I love the Night. I love how the deep shadows soften the edges; how, even under the bright lights from the street lamps, those shadows know secrets, hidden from my questioning eyes.

And when the Moon is full and casting its impossibly bright, brilliant light upon Mother Earth...at this time of year, the Veil is thin between Worlds.

All Hallow's Eve...a seasonal time when good and evil Spirits both, visit from other planes. Perhaps they seek reassurance of their loved ones' welfare...the ones left behind when Death came for them. Perhaps they visit for nefarious purposes. Perhaps they are just curious. Nonetheless...they're here.

I've read they like to play practical jokes on the Soul still having the Human experience.

I am aware , as I walk through the dark garden paths, of packets of Spirits...I walk through some of their Energy. I feel the joyful souls, the sad and mournful ones, the curious ones...and I welcome them all. There is not much energy with evil intent, here amidst the safety of my well-loved plants.

But, oh! It is so dark, way back behind Grandfather Tree, and in front of Cork Tree, ablaze, in the daylight, with golden leaves...but now, only a black bulk configured against the deep indigo of the Night Sky.

In Grandfather Tree's presence, I find it easy to seek the mellow reassurance he offers me...I know, without having to actually see, how to navigate around him. His branches tickle my cheek. The chimes tinkle, with the sudden soughing of Wind that whispers sibilant secrets to me...secrets only intended for my ears.

It is a quiet evening. In earlier years, fireworks would have lit up the Skies, frightening inhabitants with the sudden booming of a big Cracker sent up by the juvenile contingent. But now, bylaws have been passed against it, giving all pet owners a sense of relief. There will be those who will test the law; they have already made their presence known...but no longer do our dogs shiver and shake their way through the Hallowe'en season.

I am deep in thought, as my eyes adjust to the black Night. I imagine myself in the centre of the Secret Forest, where rarely any light intruded during the Night hours, and where silence was so total, it became a thing all to itself. I imagine myself walking along the soft Forest floor, littered with needles and leaves. The soft branches brushing my sleeve, the sticky Spider's Webs, their hostesses long gone, clinging to my hair, and the crackle of dry leaves underfoot...that old Forest is still alive, in my mind.

I am happy to visit, happy that I can still conjure up a place so dear to my heart, and I stay there in the stillness, my eyes closed, my breathing slow, feeling the soft vibrations of the energy imparted by Grandfather Tree, taking me on a journey into the past...

And then, a long mournful howl from the Malemute across the Way...another...he brings his sad longing for his North Country into my garden. Sudden tears prick my eyelids, and my heart follows his in his desperate song to the very full Moon.

He is a dog away from his place. Away from his Pack. He howls to the Moon, following the age-old plaintive Call of the Wild, hoping against hope a member of his Pack will answer...

The dog's painful lament ceases; there is a breathless silence once more.

And then...not ten feet away, my ears are split by a baby's sudden terrified cry. My heart stops; I grab a branch from Grandfather Tree to steady myself. The shriek suddenly ceases.

From the relative safety of Grandfather, I peer through the branches, hear the low moan and instantly recognize the voice of Cat. I see two eyes blazing into mine from a low over-hanging branch from Cork Tree.

We stare at each other for some time. I know Cat is pretending to be Lion in a medieval Forest, just as I imagine myself back in time.

The dogs' furious barking, as they round the corner of the house, intrudes upon our silent sharing of fantasies. I raise my camera...but too late. Only the dogs' barking and hysterical demeanours tell me I had a visitor at all.

I sense Grandfather Tree's mirth. And even if my heart is still pounding hard in my chest, I chuckle along as well.

As I wander back to the house, back to the Big Chair and the fireplace, back to safety... I consider the ramifications of meditations outside, deep in the dark of the Night.

And then, I remember the practical jokes Spirits like to play. I wonder...

The Veil is thin. Was I just the butt of a Spirit Jokester?

Relaxation

The other day, I asked Graham to give me a Reiki session...my body had fallen out of sync since the attack of the Hives. I had also noticed more negativity, in my outlook.

People who look mostly to the dark side of life will reflect their opinion in their faces, as they grow older. Perpetual frown marks, down-turned lines at the corner of mouths become entrenched...and before it can be realized what is happening, those deep furrows are on the face for evermore.

If I am going to be wrinkled, I want those wrinkles to show my laughter and joy, rather than my frowns and pouts. Laughter lifts the face; frowns drag them down.

A walk through a Senior's Centre will show the faces...well-lived, to be sure...of the people who found their glass half-full, instead of half-empty. There is a vestige of the Sun left in those positive, loving, open and non-judgemental faces.

A Reiki session will last 45 minutes to an hour. This one felt as if it lasted only five minutes.

However long it was, it was extremely full. Dreams and visions, brightly coloured and energetic, took precedence almost immediately, when Graham began the Reiki treatment. My body became filled with the most intense energy...and I was kept there for almost the entire session.

The colours that appeared, enclosing me, were mostly vibrant purple, with slashes of yellow, blue and green. It felt as I would feel if I was in the middle of the Northern Lights, with stunning displays of colour surrounding me.

I noticed my breathing had slowed...I felt deeply relaxed. I relished this almost weightless feeling, as if I drifted on a cloud, well and happy...far away from Hives and other woes. I wanted to remain here forever.

But the Purple became more insistent. With the smell of Lavender gently wafting around me, I followed the Purple light...a light that would sound lurid if I were to describe it, but felt soft, deep and velvety. I travelled along the Purple path, not sure where I was being led.

I felt a little anxiety suddenly...and the propulsion slowed, giving me time to adjust. When I am not sure of where I'm travelling during these meditative journeys, I take time to assure myself that all my tools are in place...and this journey happened too quickly for me to do this vital step.

So I blocked myself; I did not trust completely, this God essence that was trying to show me a different reality. I wanted my tools, I wanted to be absolutely sure...and yet, other than the anxiety that I was not in complete control, I felt warm and comforted. It was a conundrum.

Taking a deep breath, I followed the Purple again, once again in complete relaxation. I became certain of my safety, convinced I absolutely trusted the energy that lead me...

And then, with swift suddenness, I was in Water, a deep body of Water, with no land in sight. I was sinking, I saw myself go under and drift freely in the Water...and again I blocked the feel and sight of the beckoning Purple path.

I do not want to drown, I told myself, and swam desperately to the surface of the body of Water. In an instant, I was once again on top...once again in control, breathing freely...until I realized I had never stopped, I could breathe in the Water, I was in no danger...breathing under Water was a thing I could suddenly do. Once again, my trust was lacking.

Fear a coppery taste in my mouth, I made the decision to go ahead, and as if I had never hesitated, I again floated downward, breathing freely. As I assimilated my new reality, as I became comfortable, I noticed there were Mountains, Hills and craggy Rocks, with lush plant life swaying in the Water's gentle current, all bathed in the Purple light.

I felt my Guides very closely, as I drifted downward, down, down...completely relaxed, my body as weightless as the puff of a thistle seed.

A City loomed beneath me; buildings nestled in amongst the Mountains, streets curving around square shaped substantial dwellings and towers. I walked the streets, understanding there were others around me, yet not able to distinguish them. And then, I was in one of those buildings, completely engulfed by the Purple, drawn to the deep, deep centre of the Purple light.

Where was I? Why was I not hesitating, once again? What was the Light? But it felt so right, to continue on. I was breathing, I felt buoyed, I felt as secure as I ever would...was the time right? I asked my Guides, as I stood there with the Purple light vibrating through my entire being. What, I asked, was I to do, what was expected of me?

I felt the huddle, I felt people all around me. I felt luminous, my Spirit at peace. My mind shimmered with the Purple; I felt the complete magic of this place where I felt myself to be. My body no longer hurt, it felt free and light.

I was given a reminder of what it felt like, before I allowed pain and disillusionment to enter my mind. Before I allowed everyday life occurrences to take over, before I understood that I was required to treat myself and my body with the same passion that I treated my writing, my gardening, and others in my life.

When I was young, I took my body for granted. This is no longer a possibility...

As I understood this, I felt a reverse tug...and felt myself standing in a field of Lavender, her unearthly scent rising, becoming part of me.

I felt Graham move away; the Reiki session was over.

Slowly, I allowed my body to awaken. I felt refreshed and light, after my journey into the Purple. There were lessons here, to be mulled over at my leisure.

For now, for this one moment, I enjoyed the relaxation and serenity I felt throughout every cell in my body. It would take awhile before the negative gremlins returned...and I wondered if perhaps they'd stay away, if I only remembered the Purple.

It will take practice, to feel as well as at the end of my journey to the Purple City. I was shown how well I could feel, and I was shown how amazing it really is, when Body, Mind and Spirit are in balance and in sync.

More answers will arrive; they always do after a Reiki treatment.

I wanted relaxation and balance; as usual, the Universe sent me so much more than I could ever imagine.

Window of Opportunity

On our way to visit family in my hometown, we were held up at the entrance to Cathedral Grove by a head-on collision, just a few cars ahead of us.

My daughter told me my window of opportunity for seeing Graydon, my grandson, awake, began at about two-thirty pm.

As we left our home in Qualicum Beach, we discussed the possibility of an accident; the last three times we've visited, we have been held up by problems on the road.

It had been two weeks since I had visited with Graydon...at 4 months old, he was changing daily. But, we reasoned, what were the chances... we had met our quota of bad accidents requiring highway closure.

Not so, apparently. Cathedral Grove enthralls visitors. Driving through for the first time, people's attention wanders, as they stare at the huge Trees that have stood for centuries...and inevitably there are car crashes, on this narrow road.

We sat on the highway for an hour and a half, waiting for clearance to travel onward. While we sat, I took pictures, mused on the problem, watched people and listened to conversations that took place as people wandered by, on their way to satisfy curiosity or find knowledge over the length of wait time.

It was interesting, after I swallowed my disappointment at not being able to see Graydon immediately. Mostly tourists wandered by... the locals staying in their vehicles with either a good book or indulging in a nap...

There were not many older folks trudging up the road; mostly youngsters and young adults ran and leaped past the car, their faces filled with the excitement of an adventure. We had just passed Cameron Lake, a large, deep lake, by which the highway ran alongside. In their minds, anything could lay just ahead.

One young woman discussed the possibility of Alligators inhabiting the low-lying area beside our car, after her friend wanted to find the way to the lake.

I waited for one of her friends to laugh and challenge the Alligator statement, but they believed her! On they went, discussing the safest way, wanting a pathway that was clearly defined, so that Bear and Alligator would not bother them.

As I wondered how a young woman could be educated and not learn that Alligators do not live in northern climes, a young family came along. The youngest son, about three years of age, asked his mother...Who lives in there, Mommy?

She said...Alligators!

The little boy stared into the trees, his hand in his smiling mother's...and I heard his questions begin. Where, how, why...? His mother's voice dwindled as she embellished on her story, keeping her son occupied and listening all the while.

I almost believed everybody knew something I didn't...had Alligators moved into the swampy headlands of Cameron Lake?

As I watched, I identified tourists from Europe, Asia and the US. There were German tourists, speaking in their language, which I am still able to understand, having been born there. I noticed that the majority of the visitors were just a bit uncomfortable in what must seem like a deep, dark wild Forest to them...I lost count of how many commented on their nervousness at encountering wild life...I heard Cougar, Bear, Grizzly Bear, Mountain lion mentioned, with a wary glance around...oh, and Alligator.

I wondered what might happen to the people, all now leaving their cars, when traffic resumed. I fantasized about the cars being abandoned, about tourists being cornered by Grizzly Bears and Alligators, not able to return to their vehicles. I saw them become Tree People, with a civilization all their own, living in Trees and upended Roots.

I built a story around these beings, who, through pure happenstance, ended up living in Cathedral Grove...a shy, quiet group who kept to themselves, staring at visitors to the Park from between branches and high in Trees.

Would they befriend all those Kittens and Puppies that are dropped off in the Park to fend for themselves? Would they re-member the old ways? How? Would the tourists who were fearful of the Forest learn to befriend it? What would they take from the Old World, to apply to the New? Who would lead the group...would it be the authoritative woman who led her group of three other women? Or the young lad on the skateboard, who loved to show his prowess?

I fleshed out the story, lost in the Dream of the Forest People.

From a distance, I heard cars start...I woke to see the members of the Lost Tribe running back to their vehicles, children far ahead of their parents...running, running around the bend and out of my sight.

We continued on our way, over the small bridges, past the banged up vehicles attached to the tow trucks, past the parking lot of the Park, and past all the cars that were lined up in the opposite direction.

We were an hour or two away from the Window of Opportunity given me by my daughter. On the one hand, I had a lovely Dream...one given me by the Spirit of the Forest, one filled with excitement and adventure, one that gave my over-active Mind a sorely required rest.

And on the other...Graydon was still awake when I arrived...full of his incredible, blue-eyed charm and the beginning awareness of himself and others.

He stayed awake for quite awhile, considering he has two teeth and is working on the others. And then, he fell asleep in my arms.

The Universe allowed me to fulfill two Windows this day. Does it get any better than this?

Leisure

Taking time off...the very phrase leaves a hollow feeling in my gut. To do so is difficult for me to achieve, at the best of times; if I don't stay in the present moment, it is impossible to achieve.

The weather turned hot, at the beginning of our "time off", when our friends arrived. It was really the first time in awhile that I had seen a warm Sun; it oiled my bones and made it easier for me to move...

But the heat slowed us down, in another sense, and the inclination was to sit in the shade of Grandfather Tree, where it is always just the right temperature, with Wind whispering a soft message in the sound of the Wind chimes. And where world problems, memories and confidences were exchanged, with as much energy as the hot day allowed.

When I worked outside my home, holidays were more like what the word implies to me. I was away from my "place of work", and was able to leave it there, in that distant office. When my office is in my home, I have discovered that taking relaxation, taking leisure time is not quite as easy.

Especially when my work at the present time is also my passion. Writing is breathing to me; all manner of strange behaviour occurs when I don't write. Because then I write in my head. And sometimes, if I am in the company of others, I 'wander off'...and when I return from my imagination, my inner world...all kinds of subjects of conversation have passed me by.

I find this to be such a disservice to others, who believe I am listening and are including me in what is being said, only to find that I have really no clue.

I tell myself to listen, to focus, and if the discussion holds my interest...I am there, in the present. Should my interest fade and my attention wander, even just a little, I must be vigilant in returning. Sometimes it becomes hard work.

It's difficult for me, at times, to listen and focus for any length of time on conversations. My mind jumps from pillar to post...it's a job to rein it in and concentrate. The smallest thing will dislodge my attention from matters at hand.

And others can find it disconcerting, when I offer an opinion on a subject nobody was anywhere near discussing. When I notice confused faces, I realize I have done it again...imagined a scenario, solved it and given the opinion that caused confusion. I try to explain; it is like walking through a watery maze, as I follow the circuitous route my mind has taken to reach the conclusion I just gave.

Solitude is common for me; I am good at meditating whilst I weed or do some routine task. I also amuse myself for hours with differing scenarios streaming out of all the small, ordinary events of the day. I imagine conversations...he'll say this, I'll reply with that, only the conversation takes place in my mind.

People watching gives me wonderful inspiration.

Whole generational stories have evolved in my mind over a couple who are innocently sitting on a large log, washed up in a ocean bay. I wonder about what they do, where they live, what their parents were like, what did they learn from their grandparents...on and on it goes.

Difficult to return to the present, when the imagined world is so fascinating.

When I am on a writing schedule, I work and write until a little while before company is to arrive. And then I bring myself out of the "zone", and slowly, will become more conscious of the world around me. By the time friends arrive, I am well and firmly grounded and have no trouble with drifting off into another world.

When I take a break, take a holiday, I no longer take the time to write. Instead, I am stern with myself. No more office, no more computer, no more writing for at least a week.

It begins okay. For three or four days, I ignore my favourite room in the house...my office. Then, insidiously, my thoughts turn to whatever I might be writing at the time, or what I intend to write, or what might be a good subject to research. Given a few more days, and I am exhibiting the behavior previously described.

I have decided, if I am at home during a holiday, that it just works out far better for all concerned if I take a few hours and write. It clears my mind. All the bits and pieces of my mind that belongs to the writing world come tumbling to the forefront, eager as puppies to be let out of confinement.

I also know that a few days away from writing will allow these bits and pieces of my mind to refresh and renew. I have decided a few days away is good, giving my muse a glass of clear, cold, sparkling water instead of a glass of cloudy, muddy liquid to work with.

And I have decided that I am who I am...a writer. I am lucky in that I have understanding friends and a partner who allow me to be. They might be a little confused at times, understandably, but mostly there is just acceptance and very little judgment.

I am grateful. Because I don't believe I can change my behaviour. I can temper it, tone it down, do what I have to do to become more hospitable and in the present, but I can't/won't stop the muse.

Doing that would spell disaster for any writing I hope to do.

So leisure time, even as it renews and rests the soul, can sometimes be too much of a good thing, for me, if it means I must ignore the insistent muse.

The office door beckons and the world begs to be written about...relaxation brings about a re-kindling of my creativity.

No matter how I do it.

Thickets

In my last home, there were many hedge- rows and thickets, home to all manner of wildlife. It seems these copses of vegetation have followed me here, to intrude upon my well-ordered garden of peace. It seems I have grown an impenetrable thicket in my mind.

A thicket is defined as a number of trees and shrubs growing close together. Sharp twigs , branches, berry vines with darting, ripping thorns, entangling bindweed vines often reside along with the trees and Shrubs. If a thicket is impenetrable, if I try and try over and over again, to find my way through it...being ripped to shreds, each and every time...

Maybe it would be wiser for me to go around it.

Or, I could cut my way through that thicket. This would be drastic...years and years of growth have gone into these Shrubs, Vines and Trees...making it impossible to see the ground, a home, still, to many creatures.

But in order to rejuvenate this dense pocket of plant matter, the one I cannot barrel my way through, the one where I have run out of strength to try...it is not a bad idea to take the pruning shears, and do some gentle pruning. The trouble is, I cannot see where one Tree begins and another Shrub ends...

The pruning may turn out to be drastic, turning this wooded area into a neatly trimmed park- like setting, a delight to my eye and soul, with merciful, benign order to the intertwining plants.

Last week, I was involved in an insanely trying time, finding myself constantly in the middle of that untrimmed thicket. I do not like to disturb the order of things; if I had my way, I would be in the middle of a well-defined path, the way forward clear. As would most of us.

But Creator has other ideas. Here, in this unbelievable place, I was being stabbed by unsuspecting Vines that suddenly appeared, by branches without leaves that jabbed at my eyes..

So, lately, I have been the recipient of messages from Spirit; I think the belief is that I have better skills than I do at deciphering them, or perhaps I require the practice. The messages do heighten my awareness.

I was visited by Hawk and Snake, last week. Both were involved in a dangerous struggle. Traveling along a mountain- ous stretch of road to visit my family, we were held up by a vehicle that had caught fire. And so, when the traffic resumed, we were part of a long line of cars, going both ways on the narrow highway.

One of the largest Red-tailed Hawks I have ever seen suddenly rose up from the side of the road against the car directly in front of us. He had a very long Snake grasped in his claws...a Snake that was fighting with every bit of his being. The car slowed, its inhabitants shocked, but did not stop. The Bird slid and flapped away from this car; he and the Snake ended up on the road in front of our car. We did stop; and the Hawk, still grasping the struggling Snake, flew directly to my window. I looked deeply into his eyes...and then Snake impaled me with his gaze, as well.

I was awestruck. I felt the World stop and for a small moment I was in a different place. In an instant, I realized this was no ordinary occurrence...and I sent a silent Thank you to the two who were putting their lives at risk to show me their presence, with their kinds' resultant messages.

The Hawk and Snake veered off, into the thickly treed forest, and we continued, the whole episode soon out of sight.

But definitely not out of mind.

Hawk is the visionary of the Air, he holds the key to higher levels of consciousness. He sees the overall view. He reminded me to be very aware of omens and spirit messages. He shows me there is a greater intensity, than before, in the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual forces within me.

Snake...the symbol of transformation and healing...the symbol of Eternity. He is Fire medicine...ever changing, ever moving. Snake tells me my creative forces are awakening; my intuition will sharpen. He tells me I have the ability to experience life willingly...without resistance. He tells me all things are one and all things are created equally.

Both are Protectors, in the meaning of their forms. Both were involved in a life/death struggle. Air and Fire, with the element Air fueling Fire. This struggle the two were involved in puts me right back into my thicket, feeling the awful awareness of it all. And the futility, compared to Life/Death.

Fire in the car accident previous to Hawk and Snake's messages relayed enough inform- ation, put all together, for me to decide how to tackle the present thicket in my life.

I think it needs rejuvenation, I think some of those vines and dead vegetation have to be trimmed completely back, to start again, to transform this area into a place where peace and serenity are once more prevalent.

It is time to cut my losses. It is time to realize there are some parts of this tangled, twisted thicket in my mind that no longer serve...and it is time to do something about it.

In AA, there is a saying...Guard the entrance to your mind.

Some of the overgrown parts of this wooded, dark area will have to be cut...going around this particular mess of vegetation will keep it too close to the forefront. And I no longer want to be involved in this confused snarl of coiled, mixed-up vines and branches.

It is time to sharpen the shears.

Grandfather Tree's Story

Grandfather Tree and I have had many occasions in the past five years to sit down together and speak with each other. He has told me a little of his story; I have told him mine.

I wrote about how he began his life here on our property some time ago, and then saved and forgot about it, until Gray reminded me by telling me something he had heard about Grandfather.

There were many parallels I could not have known about... this is one example of how plants will "tell" us what we want or need to know. It was wonderful to me to be able to corroborate a 'feeling' or intuitive thought from Grandfather...and find it to be true.

I'm presently reading two of Stephen Harrod Buhner's books...The Lost Language of Plants and Sacred Plant Medicine. In both works, he has clearly shown how we have lost our ability to communicate with the Plant World; his words are a reminder to me that plants are Mother Earth's natural healers...and that they are fully sentient.

On a warm day last Summer, when the only cool spot for miles around is under Grandfather Tree, where a breeze always sings a song...I felt the urge to speak with him. He took me on a journey that seemed strange to me at the time.

I was riding in an old vehicle...a vintage car, where there were no springs and very little comfort. It was black in the interior and very warm. There seemed to be many children, also...from a young toddler to pre-teens, with us all riding in this jouncy, bouncy conveyance.

It seemed as if we were traveling very quickly. Yet, how could it feel so, when somehow I knew this old car would only be chugging along, at best? And I could not really see the children. I could hear them clearly, and felt a strong energy signature coming from each.

But where was I? And then I saw the wooden box, placed on top of leather luggage, almost as an afterthought. Every time there was a bounce in the car, the box would jolt, and a small layer of dirt would appear to trickle from the side of it. Inside the box, where I seemed to be, was a layer of baby trees...one of whom was Grandfather Tree.

This family was on holiday. There seemed to be much singing and laughter and tired tears. The trip seemed interminable. I wondered where we were coming from and where we were. I was given the answer...this family was from California. They traveled to Vancouver Island every year for summer holidays. I saw a small cabin as their destination...the forerunner to the home in which I now live.

I saw the older boy take the box of seedlings and place them in a corner of the yard, when we arrived. And then...I saw lightning strike a far more mature Grandfather Tree, three times. Sequoia's bark is very thick and fibrous, non-resinous and it is very resistant to Fire, but the heat from the Lightning strike did leave scars. They are apparent to an expert, but I did not know Grandfather had been struck three times, until I was told by an arborist.

With the Lightning, and the resultant feeling of extreme heat, I came out of my meditation and wondered at what I had seen. I wrote it down as a children's story, one I thought I would expand on for my grandchildren. But it faded into the background, with life's events taking precedence.

Grandfather Tree is not indigenous to this area. We did not know he was of the Sequoia genus until after we bought our home. But he is well known to the folks that have lived here for a long time...when I explain where I live, some residents ask about the big, tall Tree in the garden. Is he still alive and well?

And I tell them he is doing very well.

But Gray heard an explanation, a few days ago, of why we have a Sequoia growing, with great gusto, in the yard. He heard there was a lady from California who used to vacation here, many long years ago...and she planted quite a few Sequoias in the general area.

He brought the news home...

It took me a minute or two...and then the light bulb went on!

I had already written Grandfather Tree's story, when I thought it was just that...a happy, little tale to tell my grandchildren.

It was a reminder to me. A reminder to take my gift of communications with Animal and Plant beings seriously and with awe. A reminder to believe in myself.

And a reminder to believe in the stories I hear from Grandfather Tree.