Green Tribe of Belonging

 It's the time of year when I begin thinking about planting. The winter solstice is behind us now, and the days are getting a bit longer. At our solstice gathering here at Prairie Hill last week, we watched a demonstration of how the earth's tilt on its axis creates the seasons. And though our landscape here is covered in snow and temperatures are still very cold, we've started our path toward spring. Looking out my windows, I see just white around buildings, no green showing. The skies are the only real changing canvas, and they give a welcome show of clouds, sunset color and flocks of birds flying through. Everything else seems pretty dead and bleak, though we know that this is merely a dormant season and life underground and in holes or dens is just waiting for the temperature to trigger a renaissance.  At this time of year, we have to use our memories to remind us that this cold barren world is only a passing thing. The older I get, the more I get intimations that all l...

  Shadow Her soft, resonant name describes her nature, gentle, unassuming, quiet and steadfast, my sweet feline companion, shiny black coat  with a white patch under her chin. Curled up on my bed during the day or basking in the sun through a south window. She was the miracle kitty. One morning  she seemed almost dead. I rushed her to the vet where they connected her up to life-saving tubes and miraculously she survived, almost thrived. She had a heart murmur from the very beginning, and later an injury that gave her a lasting limp. We now limp around together in our home, Both of us putting up with our imperfections, though she is more patient than I. She has a streak of independence, so won’t tolerate being picked up. But on her own terms, she snuggles up to me when I am sitting up in bed, my notebook in hand, she in perfect comfort, purring, purring. Before sleep, when I’m reading in bed, she climbs to my side again, a loyal companion. When I turn off the light, she kn...

Wandering Moon looking through my window, Geranium blooms smile back at her. Wind whistling through fallen leaves, Clouds racing through the sky. Moon so very far away, Yet she feels just like a friend. Nights shaped by her circling glow, Days lit by her cousin the sun. As they wander across the skies, So we wander here on earth, Our footsteps moving through the grass, Their bright trails moving above our heads. All together, we make a world, Sun the father and moon the mother, Air the breath, soil the ground. Light and rain make us complete. A treasure-house of living forms, Wandering far through soil and air, Sacred family,  small and large. We all belong. This is our home. NF 12/5/22