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Praise, @ first harvest
The creek is dark orange and mud brown, the tannins from the bald cypress so rich with mineral it almost floats like an additional layer of color on top. The water looks solid. Or, viscous. Standing thick creek muck in the standing July heat. Then it’s the full moon, and the new month starts, bringing…
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On the first full moon of summer
The yarrow and mimosas are in flower, it’s a perfect night for lavender elder offering shmr and my nettle tops are finally ready for tea… Some vision comes for the continued establishing of the wild flower ditch, and on the first full moon of summer I pray (help us remember) to believe we’re magic…
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I spoke to the universe please make this so
The first weekend of the month was the Ocean City film festival and the fellow responsible for really getting that event moving finally was able to actually get John Waters here to our lil podunk part of the pond. At least that is what I heard about how it happened and so it was that…
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Wild spaces. Chesapeake forests.
Some week in the later part of fall I cut a path into the forest about where the morning sun comes up, eastward. Most morning times leading up to the winter Solstice I find time to wander the woods, starting at that point. The path winds to the right and immediately through a second generation…
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Gratitude. At the onset of year 23.
It’s like I wake up each day in a parallel universe the one where I am left wondering wait, where did that casual glory of day to day life handmade and well-worked (so damn hard for!) go, how the hell did I end up here? This is how it feels day after day, every day…
Kel 