may cloth and mycelium

I recently did an exercise which called for recognizing what fulfills you, waking up to your real needs and then creating a new life design around them. So I made lists for each of those categories. Long lists. Then, over a period of time, I trimmed and purged the lists. And trimmed and purged some more. Mostly what I learned is that long lists can be reduced to very short lists, but I also learned that I really don't need or want that much.

Bringing in the May once again with my May cloth -- the words are from the Cambridge May Song....I love this song so much. This piece of cloth is to be my only stitching focus for the next few days.

I planted the forsythia with forsythia syrup in mind.

Pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1 cup of forsythia blossoms, cover and let steep for several hours, then strain. Add 1/2 cup of honey and refrigerate up to 3-4 weeks. I used this recipe.

The whole time I was collecting these juniper berries, I could hear the squirrels in the upper branches chewing and eating them. I have a few cooking/baking adventures in mind for these in addition to juniper's place in my herbal pharmacy.

A Venus of Willendorf in the making -- the basic pattern idea was from Marie at Ancient Threads (her blog is no longer online). Easy to make, I just folded a legal-size piece of paper in half and drew it freehand.

Back and front.

 

Her yoni is a small triangular piece of millinery flowers.

 
Her head-wear is another cluster of millinery flowers. She has wings.

Every spring I enact a new moon egg spell for myself, writing my deepest desires for the coming season on an egg. Some things have changed over the years, but I usually place it on my little altar to serve as a reminder throughout the month -- then on the day of the dark moon, the egg is buried and a pansy planted over it. This kind of moon work can be done anytime of year but it's nice to be able to bury it in the ground and plant something atop.

Revisiting and revamping an older cloth using new eyes. 

 

Dinner party favors made with little pots of pansies loosely wrapped in old book pages and string. 

 

'Tis herself.

Spring clean-up is well underway in my garden. I walk our little bit of land here in the city everyday. I try to notice the growth of plants from day to day and make future plans for planting food crops in and around established perennials, trees and bushes. The old saying "the best fertilizer is the farmer's footsteps" makes sense to me. For the last 10 or more years, I have not disturbed the soil except for planting. Each year I put a layer of compost on the soil along with other natural amendments. No more digging and churning and turning eliminates quite a bit wear and tear on my body and gives me more time for other things. The main reason being that I want to protect the mycelium from being damaged. A mycelium is a thread-like fungal network that unlocks nutrients for plants, helps plants resist pathogens, assists decomposition, releases carbon dioxide back into the atmosphere, serves as a food source for earthworms and much more beyond my lay-person understanding. A mycelium network can be microscopic or it can be miles long.

And we need it.

Blessed be you. xo

fire & flower cider vinegar

Time has slipped away and I scarcely know how to begin again. But my third eye, the camera, has documented these last months so I'll just use photos as my guide.

Around Autumn Equinox I learned that apples enhance and deepen our connection to the inner realms. Soon after, apples began to present themselves. First, some wild apples in a small tree along Cherry Creek, near where I walk Talula everyday. I had never really foraged here in the city before but this particular apple tree called to me. And once I began that tiny bit of foraging, I began to notice other people doing the same. Collecting food from abandoned trees or the ground beneath, imagine that.

At the end of summer, I bought corn at the farmers' market to make and freeze creamed corn. I made and froze corn broth from the cobs, dried the husks for crafts and dried the corn silk for medicine. Corn silk, Zea mays, is a specific for the kidneys, bladder and prostrate and good to have in a home pharmacy. It is an anodyne (pain reliever), alterative (moves one toward improvement), antiseptic (antibacterial), demulcent (soothes and relieves inflammation), diuretic (removes water from the body through urination), and lithotriptic (dissolves stones). If needed, I would put a handful in a jar, cover with boiling water, and infuse overnight. I would drink a few cups of this infusion each day.

In early autumn, these colors were absolutely brilliant under the strong Colorado sun. Pastels have a tough time under our full sun, they look their best at dawn or dusk.

And then more apples -- a modest first crop from our own young apple tree in the front yard. I don't think there was a single worm in these and we didn't treat in any way. For whatever reason, the fruit crops were hugely successful here in Denver this year. 

I am still drawn toward making ancestral connections and food seems like a good way to reach out....here I started infusing fruit, flowers and herbs in apple cider vinegar. I know it's not likely that my foremothers made this exact same concoction, but I do know they would have gathered and foraged fruit, flowers, nuts and herbs to use and preserve. This "fire & flower cider vinegar" started out with apple cider vinegar and nasturtium flowers & pods. Shortly thereafter I added tiny crab apples, also foraged from along the creek.

Every few days I added more ingredients to the vinegar as I found them -- rose hips, roses, more nasturtiums, jalapenos and ground mustard seed from lunaria seed pods.

Also, rosemary, sage and dandelion leaves.

Berries from the Oregon grape holly bushes.

All topped off with apple chunks. This vinegar is still brewing and I can't wait to taste it. I think the grandmothers nudged me along but I do have to say, with deep gratitude, Gather Victoria's Venus Vinegar was hugely inspiring.

The day before our first hard freeze, I harvested everything I could. I remember the last-harvest ritual with my mother when I was a girl....our frozen fingers, the growing dark, the scent of parsley -- flowers, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini filling bowls and baskets. The last harvest should be its own holiday -- it happens every year and although it may look different, it feels the same to me no matter my age.

The family altar. Over the last weeks, I have spent a good amount of time lighting candles and standing here. I search the photos of grandmothers and a great grandmother. And grandfathers and a great grandfather. I don't really know what I'm looking for but I think I'll feel it when I find it. I have read and believe we have more Otherworld relationships than our once-embodied familial lineages -- so I'm searching for those too because, in the end, we are all connected. Soul lineages, garden lineages, plant/medicinal lineages, handwork lineages and so on. If you have felt connections like these, I'd love to know and learn from your experiences if you would be willing to share.

A homage of baked potato to the ancestors for all the root crops over which they labored.

The little temple was filled with autumn offerings of crystals, herbs and incense. When I remembered, I smudged and chanted and sang to the plants as I collected seeds, blossoms, fruits and leaves. The garden is really a garden of spirits, me included.

The turning of leaves is always beautiful but these patterns caught my eye. I know that leaves don't actually take on new colors in the autumn -- the green simply disappears as chlorophyll breaks down, revealing the true colors of red, orange and yellow. But these are exquisite.

And here is our potted orange tree with one of her two large oranges. It takes one year for an orange to develop from flowering to ripening. I'm not sure when this plant last flowered but would guess that it was in April. So that means in April of 2019 we will have two oranges.

From my heart to yours. xo

queen of swords

With spring in full force, I've either been researching or experiencing spring tonics nearly every day. By definition, a tonic is simply something that restores or refreshes one's being...a tonic could affect someone on mental, physical or spiritual levels and by various means. Activities, exercises, nourishment, art forms and even ritual practices could all be subtle magical tonics.

I think I have the nose of a dog. Inhaling spring blossom fragrance daily is a favorite restorative of mine and there are many items on that menu -- apple trees, plum trees; golden currants, lilacs, sand cherries, grape hyacinth and Oregon grape holly bushes for starters. The beautiful iris was accidentally snapped off a few days ago and is developing her fragrance even without sunlight and birdsong.

I've begun a sort of art journal practice in a new handmade journal -- the first section of the book is dedicated to the Queen of Swords with a focus on the element of air and its corresponding attributes. It begins with the language of name and place...thinking about where I come from brought both people and sweet memories back to life. I loved doing this.

Every spring I look forward to collecting and cooking wild weeds from right outside the back door...tonic foods. My weedy stalwarts are always steamed nettles with onion and garlic, nettle pesto and dandelion Italiano on toasted sour dough bread.

I yearn to connect to the ways of my grandmothers, I tell myself that surely they cooked these same greens in the spring. The bowl of nettles is placed on my grandmother's table, now my dining table. She lived and died many years before I was born. When I feel sad that I have nothing to know or remember her by other than a few old photos, I remind myself that she rested her hands on this very table, maybe even in the exact same places that I rest mine.

A tiny prayer flag became a book mark on the full moon -- the chain-stitched spiral symbolizes air and wind.

 

We removed two dead trees this past week -- a pear tree and a juniper tree, both from which I kept mementos. The little bundle is a tiny pear twig tied together with some nearby plants. From the juniper trunk, Jan sawed me a small section revealing rings and colors and fragrance that surprised and delighted us. I'm finding that saving and holding natural objects like these as sacred is one way for me to express gratitude, no matter what the season.

The Queen of Swords has clear, piercing vision which the likeness of Frida Kahlo epitomizes for me on the bit of collage (the back of a greeting card). The handmade journal to the right, which I adore, was made by Kate Jackson.

In case you're wondering, the Queen of Spades is the equivalent of the Queen of Swords.

I'm ending this post with yet another photo of our many-years-old bee house holding a brand new colony of Italian honeybees. This house was vacant all last summer due to colony failure and I am so happy to have a full house again. At present, we have one wild bee colony in a tree trunk to the west and the new bees live on the east side of our back yard. At last it feels like things are back to normal around here.

My spring tonic practices have felt short-lived, almost elusive -- there is still so much I want to read and make and think about. But as we approach the threshold of summer, it will soon be time to begin focusing on the element of fire and the Queen of Wands. I am excited to see how they will show up in my life.

Late spring/early summer blessings of nettles and iris to you. xx

herb bundles & band-aids

This is how June looks for me. I use something from the garden everyday, you never know what will happen out there. One day is cutting a swath of arugula before it bolts, the next is making tiny herbal smudge-type bundles to dry and burn on Summer Solstice and other holy-days. These are eucalyptus leaves, lavender stalks and roses but potential combinations are endless. Like mini smudge sticks, the bundles can be made according to healing qualities, fragrance, color and more. You could drop one in a cup of hot water for tea like this. Or in a little vodka for tincture. Endless.

One day I cut my finger knuckle to the bone so applied a comfrey leaf spit poultice followed up by simple comfrey leaf band-aids for protection -- it healed amazingly fast. A piece of a cabbage leaf would have also worked.

I pick a few roses daily for drying to make rose syrup or to infuse in body oil. Nettles are collected regularly -- simmered in a big pot to keep on hand in the refrigerator or blanched and ground with oil, garlic and toasted pecans for pesto. Consider eating pesto as eating your greens. And a lot can be done with a pesto plus it can be frozen. My new thing is stuffing raw mushrooms with it.

There's been more playing the drum than stitching on the drum case. The dog doesn't mind and I love drumming, even by myself.

We have a full moon rising this Friday -- I hope to wrap up more herbal bundles and write my gratitude list during the day...that night I'll set out a jar filled with lemon balm leaves and water to be infused by the full moon and other cosmic energies. I like leaving this water out the following day as well to be infused by the sun, after which I strain it. Lemon balm water helps us to be centered in the midst of chaos, also helps meditation. xx

Good Nettle Pesto
Simmer a half-pound of nettle leaves and tender leaf tops in a large pot of salted water for a few minutes. Drain and when cool enough to handle, put them in a towel to squeeze out all the water. In a food processor, grind up a few cloves of garlic with 1/2 toasted pecans and 1/2 t. salt and some ground black pepper. Add the nettles and 1 T. fresh lemon juice. Add 1 c. olive oil, keep going until you're satisfied with the texture. Stir in 1/3 cup Parmesan cheese.  Based on a pasta recipe by Jess Thomson.