Mark and I went on a very wet walk, me to pick nettles, which I did. Everything is pushing upward, outward, flowing as it does every spring. It’s so exciting!
I always pick my nettles barehanded. The sensation of tingling in my fingertips is something I have come to look forward to each year. One year I picked so many, I could feel the pins and needles all the way into my wrists. That may have been a bit too much…
here’s a happy nettle before she went over the flame:
and the spring that flows near the nettle patch, but only on the rainiest of days:
That hole in the ground is where the water comes out! I find this mystery to be almost scary, in a way.
here is the osoberry blooming. When I was in Portland last week, the oso was done, the trilliums were finished, everything there is a couple weeks ahead of us, it seems. And the forests are covered in ivy…
one more picture, of the alder logs we have cut. we are waiting for the shiitake spawn to arrive, and then we will inoculate and crib them. we have good luck with shiitake here, since we found a strain that produces well without being intensively watered.
Okay, that’s all for today. I have to go serve beer in a couple of hours.
Hey freaky folk!
I haven’t spent much time looking through tumblr sites, not til last night anyway. Then Mark sent me a link to OneStonedCrow.
Now, you know that if’n I was going to be a collector of anything (excepting yarn and fabric) it would be richly illustrated children’s books. I had a small collection, but I think much of it perished in the fire. I don’t know; I have never been big on keeping inventories.
There is one book that I have been straining to remember for several years now; a book that was given to my brother sometime in the 70’s, one that really got into my head. Only visually I guess, ’cause I never could recall the name of the book or who the illustrator was.
It was there on that site, buried in the archives.
The book is called ‘Ratsmagic’ illustrated by Wayne Anderson.
Here is a link to all the pictures from the book.
I guess maybe I will work on knitting that fairy house today.
Those who know me know that I am in thrall to the magic of my childhood world. Oh! Those days of jugglers and troubadours, of bonfires and street faires, creative colorful humans engaging in playful countercultural experimentation!
When I moved North in 1979, it was into a grey world covered in rain, not a rainbow banner to be found anywhere, I used to lament, lament! my perceived loss, but what I didn’t realize that the times had changed as well as my personal geography, and that the gypsy fortune tellers had packed up their caravans and receded- that the flames had died down to coals carefully packed into beds of moss and tucked into caches to wait out the Reagan years and all those bindles and bindles of cocaine…
My heart was such a cache. I could feel the presence of Wildness within it, but I was waiting all the while for some collective breath to blow those embers back into a living flame.
How wonderful not to be waiting anymore.
How wonderful to contain the story and the means to tell it.
How wonderful to know the Trick of seeing into the grey, and past it to the lightning flashes of color that are not separate from it….
Humans are waking up and that fire is burning again. I’m the proof.
The Faeries are back!