My daughter came last week and within a day I suggested we go into the woods. There particularly was a road I wanted to explore, but not alone, as I was familiar enough to know there were places where it was only one lane, and I still do not know where it ultimately leads. What I did know was that there were redwoods there, and redwoods are healing. So we went. We immediately felt ourselves breathing more deeply, soaking up the negative ions and grounding. It is still winter, afterall, however, and the dampness and the hour caused me to refrain from wanting to hike up any unknown trails. Oh, yes, the knowing that there were most likely bears and mountain lions in those woods was also a deterrent. Better to inquire first.

I captured the following, intrigued.

And we made our way back over a narrow steep hill toward home.

Our full circle celebration past, the workweek began and I felt restless in my body, just unusually at odds with my familiar temple. “It’s time to focus on yourself, Kathryn. What do you need to do to bring yourself back to yourself fully? What would help you integrate what has happened and bring you back to peace and joy?” I knew it was time to go back to the woods for a second helping. This time I chose to go back to the road that carries many many family memories in its energy field. It’s the road that took me to live in the woods when Antonia left for college. It’s the road I drove over to carry my father out to Mendocino to stay at the small local hotel. It’s the road that delivered my amazing 94 year-old Grandmother to her greatgranddaughter’s wedding. It’s the road that continues to take us to sacred familiar ground that frames the many phases of our lives and will, no doubt, for many years to come. It is stomping ground. It is holy ground. Let me show you.

Doggies in tow, off we go. It’s hazy as we arrive on Hwy. 128, in the heart of Anderson Valley, known to many for its wineries. The mustard is in full blossom.

As I head toward the redwoods my head whips ’round and I can barely believe what I am seeing: this flock of sheep running amok in a vineyard! I turn the car around and go back to capture the raucous, naughty frivolity! I am still giggling over this little event. The doggies liked it, too. They barked appreciatively.

Continuing on our quest we made a pit stop at Gowan’s, which everyone does. I’m sure you have your version of this in your world at large. The small local fruit stand. (Maybe one day some of us will have our own!) Gowan’s is on over 250 acres and they have a LOT of apples!

I bought some homemade blackberry jam, which my daughter will appreciate on my scones on her next visit up, no doubt. And a nice bag of apples came along. Feeling better already! As I let the doggies stretch their legs, so to speak, I found myself thinking how kind and thoughtful and inviting it was of the Gowans to add this little picnic area in back. I loved the primary colored swings, awaiting joyful children in the sun. And the rustic bench is so inviting. Lots of behinds have sat there, I can imagine!

Continuing on our journey, the landscape suddenly and dramatically shifts as we approach the sacred redwood forest.

The energy of the forest changes markedly. I remind myself that I am on a thin pencil of pavement that runs through a very large and holy terrain. Mindfulness of this fact is intrinsic to this experience. Even if one had no words one would know something has changed. We enter the forest.

I stop the car and absorb the peace, the sanctity, the presence.

These ancient plants remind me how old the forest is, how small I am, how connected we are.

Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

~ David Wagoner ~

Thanking the forest for her beauty, at last we turn the car about and round the bend, facing the river, moving quietly and swiftly toward the ever embracing ocean. I absorb this truth.

Retracing our path we come upon our happy landmark and head back to our sunny awaiting home, recharged and full of gratitude.

Love and Earthly blessings,
Kathryn xoxo
Happy Postscript: I am honored to acknowledge that Plant Whatever Brings You Joy was given a Premio Dardos Award this week from esteemed colleague Anita Bruzzese on her blog 45things.com!

Posted on March 18th, 2009 by Kathryn
Filed under: Sacred places | 26 Comments »

Judging from this neighborhood creek one would think we are flush with water. Not so. A drive out to the county reservoir revealed this. One does not really anticipate sand bars in the middle of a reservoir in March.

My jaunt was followed by a stop at the county water office where I was informed that in spite of days and days of continued unexpected rain we are still far short of our annual needs. We have 17″, not our usual 37″. Yikes!

Fortunately, as is so often the case, with the much needed falling rain comes much needed beauty, locked irrevocably arm in arm. The stuff of life is bursting around here!

First came the red camellia, which actually did open at Christmastime, as it was advertised to do. They are rather on the wane, but still flourishing sufficiently to offer us this treasure.

Next the violets, lending their quaint and subtle charm, began springing up in convenient and not so convenient abundance, livening large areas of the front lawn as well as brightening spots between the flagstone, where they were actually “planted.”

The faithful borage has surfaced on and off all winter, enduring and endearing except under the harshest days, meaning an occasional snow flurry, which would put off almost anything but the chard.

In a whoosh, in a heartbeat, overnight, like magic, the plum tree opened its lovely white blossoms and, in spite of the torrent of rain, wafted throughout the back garden, reminding creatures large and small that spring was ever so near.

Resonating with the call, the quince followed suit.

But, alas, dear readers, if I were to portray a perfect world for you, a world where the rivers are filling and all is in blossom, I would not be true. No. For among the myriad blossoms and the rushing waters and teeny droplets promising turning us back from the brink of draught, nay, because of the turning of the tide, comes this. Yes, it does.

Oh, woe is me.

But turn your eyes, turn your eyes, dear reader, towards beauty. Yes! Here!

Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Another! What little beastie can be doing this in my backyard? What little beastie, indeed?

Would it be he?

Mischievous as my boy Conner is, probably not.

But what’s this emerging from under the bushes?

I think we have our little beastie, don’t you? What a girl! Ruby, take a bath! Now!

No shame whatsoever. Just more fun for her. Now where were we? Aw, yes, I was about to take you to see the magnolias! Beauty in abundance!

Had enough? Good! I thought not. I really must show you the camellias, which are very pretty at the moment! Delicate white…

Cheerie red…

And perfect pink…

From the bottom of my heart I give thanks for the glorious rain, for the splendid, fragrant flowers and the magnificent beauty with which they graces our lives, and for all the beasties great and small.

Love and garden kisses,
Kathryn xoxo

Posted on March 2nd, 2009 by Kathryn
Filed under: Plants | 28 Comments »