​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 . . .
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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                            

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​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.







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          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






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

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    (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.

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Small cow finally had her baby and he is gorgeous! 
Blog and pics coming soon . . .





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Night descends. A small wind sighs through the pines and cedars, stirring winter greenery and small patches of snow. Nights are frosty and long, days short and cold. Winter solstice looms just a few days away. 

Beyond barn and sheds, high above our mortal comings and goings, a faint star shines in the dark. Eternal and luminous, a compass steady and true., it calls us home. Home to the enfolding warmth of the ancestral hearth. Home to the love that gave us life.

North Star, Fire Star, Wayshower, Hub of the Great Sky Wheel. The ancient ones knew there was hope when lost in a pathless wilderness, or far out on uncharted seas. As long as skies were clear, and the star in view, there would always be a way home.

Stars circle, ages come and go, we ourselves are born, unfold, then pass away. And what for, if not to love? For what is life without the gifts love brings. 

So in this wintery time when days are at their darkest, let your soul shine out, walk your path with dignity and grace. Honor your people, forgiving them their imperfections and shortcomings, for they suffer just as you have. It seems we all struggle against ourselves, trying to find some small, longed for glimmer of the Light.

Perhaps it's time to remember that true north is ever-present, eternal and unwavering. Yes, sure, sometimes hidden by storms and clouds, but if you step forward with bravery, trust and heart wide open, there will always be a way home.

It is full dark now. Winters cold breath sparkles across the land turning it into something magical, beautiful and serene. Above earth a star weaves a trail of gossamer, and shines the way . . .


​Deep Blessings,
SvG








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Yes, it is already that time of year again. Atumn is fast fading away into the deep, quiet of winter.​

The new studio, just roofed and framed, recieved a gentle blessing by way of a suprise snow fall. Grass, fallen leaves and the last of the late apples and garden greens were soon covered in a soft white blanket. Every rock, tree, branch and twig held their own large and small capes and cloaks.
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                                 Red Willow Studio 
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Since last writing much has transpired here in our magical little corner of the universe.

As the seasons cycled round, gardens were planted, grew, and came to harvest. Herbs were dried and turned to tinctures and salves, fruits were gathered, and tomatoes and other veggies were processed, packaged and frozen.

Rains came and went, hay was cut, dried and stored away for winter. Our one litter of healthy bright eyed pups found happy new homes, and small, sweet mooncow is now heavy with calf.  The new flock of chickens, all raised carefully from tiny chicks, are almost grown. We are counting the days until the first perfect brown egg can be collected!

Several of the love-doves have settled down with new mates and our little family of tiny horses are doing well. Everyone is cute and fluffy in their thick new winter coats. Baby filly, now weaned, has filled out into a charming and beautiful young girl.


It was an amazing summer for all those of the green kingdoms as well.  We were pleased to see that the hundred or so fruit, sacred white-cedar and tamarack trees I planted over the last couple years making tremendous growth Not to mention the lilies, iris, berries and grapes.

All year the pond was unusually filled to overflowing with water and creatures. Our land was also gifted with a wealth of birds flying, singing and nesting as well many species of butterflies. Growing scarce here because of "big" farming, the butterflies also seemed to really thrive and multiple this last year. I was thrilled to even see a few of my favorites, the mysterious Mourning-Cloak!

Due to our diligence and protection the farm and wetland have become a favored haven for wildlife these last few years. Along with many other amazing species, we also spotted the elusive raven and fisher-cat this fall! 

The fullness of life lived close to, and interwoven with nature brings the kind of richness and fullfillment no amount of gold or money could ever buy. It brings something that our ancestors understood and revered, yet so many of us seem to have forgotten in this world gone mad with acquisition, instant gratification and technology. 

The simplicity of life, death and rebirth. The slow turning of night and day. The procession of the seasons, the constellations, the equinoxes. Taking time for recognition and gratitude, time to honor that which is unknowable, boundless and beyond time.

Sacrificing something of ourselves, for something of greater importance. Being at peace with the Great Mystery. This is what we have forgotten.

Take this moment just as it is.
​Reflect, Honor, Invite.
Then let go.
And soar into the unknown . . .


Blessings,
SvG