First a blizzard, then digging out walking paths through two and a half feet of snow certainly keeps one in touch with life and the living of it. Tonight the temp will be well below zero. At minus twenty the cold reaches deep into boots and bones, even some of the trees can be heard beginning to crack.

So grateful for a snug house, hot food, and a toasty fire. Looking forward to spring!

​

Dear Fellow Travelers,

Today, heavy grey clouds hung low and ominous over the wintery landscape. Enclosing our small cabin, the tall dark forms of fir and pine rise silently, reaching for  the sky, for light, for life. Though branches are weighted and bent under fresh loads of snow, still, the embers of banked green fires burn quietly within, waiting for a shift in the wind and the first thaw of spring. 

Winters here in the northlands are long and cold, unlike the gentler ones where I grew up, running barefoot and free amongst the hills and hollers of southern Appalachia. The ancient land of the little people and the Cherokee. A place where one could still speak with a granny healer or listen to the handed down stories and songs of a poor farmer, an elder, a broom maker, a faded old gentleman, or a country fiddler.

The ancestors of these folk had carved out a life, built lodges and homes, hunted and fished and gardened, raised a family, helped their neighbors, and told tales of how they'd fled from somewhere else with nothing but a pocket-full of dreams and a hand-full of hope in search of a better life.

My own people were among these. Some had walked this land since the dawn of time. Some came sailing across the sea to land, colonize, write a constitution, build a grand white house and a nation. Some were loaded like cattle into the holds of ships, some fled from the horrors of war in the old world, some fought in revolutions and conflicts on the soils of the new.

Every one of them wanted the same thing, the simple right to life, happiness and freedom. The ability to acknowledge or worship, in their own way, a divinity and power much greater than themselves. The ability to voice their needs and concerns without fear. The ability to protect their homes, families and villages from those who would take and destroy.

The real America was founded on courage, on principle, on a beautiful dream of freedom and equality, but most of all she was founded on hope. Hope for a better existence for those who risked all and everything in the seeking of it. Hope for the upholding of truth and justice. Hope for a life of intrinsic value and sacred freedoms, both inner and outer.

In these recent days, it appears we are once more in the throws of the old dangers and despairs. What so many fled from and fought so hard against, has found us, and feels to be growing darker and more powerful by the day. Fear gnaws hungrily at the very soul of our nation.

But still, there is hope. As long as we live and love and breath, there is hope. A shining light at the end of the tunnel, the sun's rising out of the dark of night, a shift of the wind, the longed for blossoming of spring.

Like our nation I too have experienced almost unbearable loss and pain. But always, like her, even in the depths of my deepest despair, there came moments of profound beauty and joy. And with them the realization that all was not lost, is never lost. Fear creates illusion, the dampening of spirit, of life and the living of it.

No thing is permanent, no thing is separate. No life, or nation, or even the most distant star exists without the connection and mirroring of all other lives and nations and stars.

 A wise man once explained,  "The definition of evil is, belief in the illusion of separation."
​The inherent bonds of connection are what gives us empathy and compassion. Walking in someone else's shoes is what shows us that the other's heart, soul and needs are not dissimilar from our own.

I remember a line an old bluesman once sang, "God is in you, God is in me, to know all of God is to know humanity." 

True equality comes not from 'leveling the playing field' by forced sameness. No, true equality comes from allowing and nurturing every soul's unique gifts and purpose, celebrating the astounding wonder of each and every life. 

We are all unique and individual, yet, at the same time, truly one as well. Our lives are not a lone, one dimensional, black or brown or white, but a glorious multicolored thread artfully woven within the sacred design of the great Tapestry. Each human heart carrying the possibility for extraordinary expression of love.

So, why not take one another's hands, cradle and nurture every life as if it were our greatest treasure, stand strong and proud, and unfettered...individual, yet unified? What if we looked past the clouds, weathered the storms, and freely followed our hearts and dreams together? One family, one people, one nation, and one precious world, under the eternal grace of the Great Creator.

Outside, the sun shines bright now, lighting snow and earth and trees. The sky is a most exquisite, translucent blue, and from the branches of a nearby pine a lone eagle sings out her  ancient love-song.

As I stand in awe of natures beauty and simplicity, I am reminded that the wind will shift, the cold of winter pass, and the warmth of spring come blossoming into life once again. Yes, the Mystery is alive and well, and as long as there is life and love and breath, all can never be lost.

Peace Love and Many Blessings to all, 
SvG








​

Refreshed website and new posts coming soon . . .







​

 Its already mid winter here at our new home among the low ridges, pristine lakes and vast forests of Wisconsin's rugged Northern Highlands region. Luckily we made the move and were able to get all settled in before the first snow flew! And fly it has, well over two feet of the stuff on the ground so far . . .

What a year of intensity, extremes and bolt-out-of-the-blue changes.  It was way beyond anything we could have ever imagined. Yet here we are, tempered, pared down, streamlined and perhaps ready for the adventure ahead! 

Where to begin . . .
Lets see, first there was my husbands dangerously close health crisis. Then, while struggling to recover from that, the bizarre attack on our land began. Then, because of that oh-so-neighborly harassment and desire to destroy, came the series of events culminating in our very unexpected move. 

Just goes to show, you never really know what life may bring next.

The push to move was extreme to say the least. And lightning fast. Two pieces of land gone within a couple days of signing. For full price. Thirty days to get forty years worth of living and all the out-buildings cleaned up, cleaned out and packed. The intensity was almost beyond endurance. The task, almost insurmountable.

But we pulled through and remain alive and relatively well. Our sturdy log cabin home is warm and cozy, the air crisp and clean, the surrounding land amazingly beautiful, and the new neighbors darn good folks. Already feels like home!

Thank You Creator, for the gifts and blessings. You certainly do work in the most mysterious ways!

The challenge and lesson?

Surrender. Trust. Standing strong for what is good and right. Willingness to follow guidance, no matter how intense or demanding. And always, to remember  the love.

Its interesting to step back and realize what an amazing journey life really is. How all the pain, joy, struggle, work and even suffering of a lifetime have all been leading up to this one precious moment in space and time. Right here, right now.

I like what my husband is fond of quoting . . . "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and this moment is a gift, that's why its called The Present."


Peace, harmony,
and many blessings to all
in this wintery season,
SvG

​The edge land between the tall, stately pines across the way and our own carefully tended grounds and gardens, is a special place. Containing maple, box elder, wild cherry and cedar trees, native red willow, bloodroot, lily of the valley, heirloom lilacs, garden phlox, Queen Ann's lace, wild honeysuckle and a lovely little stand of stag-horn sumac, it is a magical microcosm filled to the brim with life and vitality.

In this wondrous unkempt tangle a chipmunk stores his hoard, a robin cares for her eggs of blue, bumble bees sip flowers, an endangered ribbon snake goes on the hunt, and a life-bonded raven pair keep watch. In the tree tops  an eagle has perched, humming birds hum, and bright orange monarchs and yellow tiger swallowtails dance their way through the passage of cycles, days and seasons.

Yet this spring things changed. Right in the middle of my husbands intense struggle for his life due to a severe series of strokes, this precious and beloved acreage came under attack. Did the perpetrators choose their time with fully conscious intent?  Waiting for a moment of distraction? In their eyes, a sign of weakness?

Yes, just because they have easement through our beautiful three and a half acres to get to their forty acre 'playground' in back of us, certain parties are now aggressively and relentlessly  pushing forward with plans to scrape, slash, cut down, kill and violate all that lives, breathes and exists in our lovingly owned and carefully preserved edge-land.

The gravel drive is already wide, straight and well maintained, can easily accommodate even a loaded dump truck or large tractor. The militant determination to turn our beautiful living lane into a super highway dead zone and destroy the little peace, privacy and land we have left is utterly mind-boggling and surreal.

The justification being what? The trees are an inconvenience? The wildlife a nuisance? We just a useless and crippled old couple deserving of harassment and contempt, so that the chronically empty can feel powerful and temporarily satiated?

Is bringing in massive, way over sized, dual tired equipment to cultivate, seed and poison one small, poor, waterlogged field worth more than honor and respect, and even lives?

But it seems that enough is never enough for some. The sort whose greed and cold-hearted, lack of empathy and compassion, whose irrevocable  belief in the illusion of separation, evidently knows no bounds.

Red faced bellowing at a sick and fragile man just home from the hospital. Belligerent gestures and threats about killing all tree beings on either side of the drive to make way for  unnecessarily huge mega-tractors, giant poison spreaders, forty foot harrows and God only knows what else. For a twisty, swampy seven acre field? Somehow this is acceptable in the small, sad confines of selfish, uncreative minds?

Even weeks later, aggressive posturing, infantile acts of contempt and cruel harassment continued toward us. 

And all because we dared say "No" to the  rape of our precious edge-land.

If there is one thing I have learned in life it is that truly narcissistic individuals are relentless in their drive to control, dominate and punish. The more beautiful, sacred and out of reach something or someone is, the more they desire to either possess or destroy that someone or something.

Why? It seems in their own little hollow self-serving universe they are utterly convinced they're better than, smarter than and more deserving than anyone or anything else in this extraordinarily rich and abundant  world. In the narrow prison of such a mind it seems the values and rules set out for the rest of us simply don't apply. And once a decision is made, they will never, ever, ever admit to being wrong. 

But there is something that can never be possessed or owned. Something pure, sacred and full of grace. It is hidden in the wing beats of the smallest bird, rises up  in the delicate scent of a rose, flows unhindered in every eddy and current of a river, shines in the eyes of an innocent child. 

It is the great un-containable love of the Creator. Made manifest. Residing in every ray of sunshine, in every drop of rain. In every tiny leaflet, solitary blade of grass, wide expanse of sky and sea. It is the love blessing a courageous heart, directing the course of a noble life, as well as the power watching over every precious edge-land, or uniquely irreplaceable, small, blue, egg . . .
​


Deepest respect and honor,
for friends and givers,
doers, lovers, protectors,
and all with the courage to stand and say, "No More." 

Gratitude, Love, Blessings,
                  SvG                            

​

​The night was damp and frosty cold, lit by the silvery half-light of moon and stars, when we heard it. The plaintive whistling calls of wild swans winging their way northward. Bound for the high tundra and their ancient nesting grounds beyond the arctic circle.







​












          Tundra Swans (Whistling Swans), Canadian Geese,
 Northern Shoveler Ducks, Red Head Ducks, Mallards, Black Ducks


It is that wondrous time of year when some mysterious force signals the start of the great migrations. The time of year when we are privaleged to witness wave after wave of ducks, geese, swans, raptors, vultures, songbirds and so many others returning to their warm season homes.

Its amazing to think that most of the bright feathered creatures we take for granted as local residents, actually spend 
half their lives in the far away jungles of Costa Rica. 

The busy little bluebird sitting on your fence may have escaped the jaws of an ocelot, shared the sky with a flock of Macaws, or stared into the eyes of a jaguar.

The oriole at your feeder may have witnessed the antics of monkeys, army ants on the march, the hunt of a hungry margay, or the courtship of the worlds largest eagle.

From little frogs daring the ice, to the birth of a tiny calf, to the daily miracle of hens eggs, I'm so often left in awe. The will to live and procreate, from the largest to the smallest creature demands the risks of finding food and a mate, the difficulties of labor, the protection of young, and even a journey of thousands of miles. Life is truly wondrous and amazing.

Even we are not exempt from the great plan. And yet, we are born with something else too. We are designed with eyes to see, hearts to feel and minds to understand. We have the capacity to soar beyond division, gaze into eternity, love without measure. 

The will to live is, and will always be, a necessary and deeply driving force, but in essence the human spirit stands close to a bigger thing. The divine in our nature calling for the next step, the leap off the cliff, the headlong dive, the flight into unity .

Then perhaps we would realize that all of creation is in us and we in it. There is no separation. We are all just flames in the eternal fire of the Mystery.

​This night the wild swans rest among the cornfields on quietly lapping puddles and ponds. Beacons of white beneath the moon and stars. Soon they will be on their way again, off into the currents and eddies of the sky lands. Winging their way northward, braving the risks. Diving headlong into life. Into the fire. Into the wide open arms of the One Great Mystery.  



Peace, Love, Blessings . . .
SvGonia






​

​

​I looked out my studio window yesterday and saw a strange tale unfolding . . .

​

  



    (After an overnight stay in Red Willow Studio, Mr. Frog is now          happily back under the ice in his pond)

​It was, wouldn't you know, the coldest day of the year! He was mama's first calf, had a very difficult birth, and eventually had to be pulled. He was too weak to nurse, so was brought inside to spend his first two days in an old woodbox being bottle fed and watched over by everyone.

​

​