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!

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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








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Refreshed website and new posts coming soon . . .







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 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 . . .
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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

Last night was full of mystery and change. Rain, then snow, sleet and ice fell fast and heavy on our little world, sending the tentative hopefullness of spring back into the cold realities of winter. 

All night the wind blew, shivering the trees, moaning around the house and outbuildings. Historic amounts of snow began to pile up. Small horses, chickens and cattle, tilted their heads, listening. Everyone seemed grateful and content to be out of the elements, nestled safe in stalls and coop.
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As I lay awake in next mornings early dawn thoughts and images of a recent journey flitted through my consciousness. It was to one of the last great wildernesses that I'd traveled. A place where the imprint of humanity is much smaller than here. A place where most of the land remains prestine, remote, observant and waiting. 

My younger sister lives there. At the end of the world, on a jut of  land between inlet and bay. Mountains loom across the water. Cold,  austere and strangely beautiful, they sweep up from sea to sky, their reflections littered with flotillas of broken ice. One wouldnt know that beneath them earth's hot blood boils, sometimes erupting from cone-shaped peaks which at present look so quiet and innocent.

That is the way of things though it seems. The unseen, the danger and unrest, the burning vitality of life just below what can be grasped by the ordinary senses. The wild pulse of hearts and natures ready to erupt, for better or worse. 

I hadnt seen my sister for almost thirty years, virtually a lifetimes worth of experience and living. Divided by family disorders and loyalties, the distance appeared endless, insurmountable. Always though, just beneath the surface, was a faint ember of knowing. The inner whisperings of the heart singing, "Someday, somehow . . ."

Then it happened. The first tentative steps, then later, trust, sharing, and longer bolder strides. Until the distance was bridged, the past integrated, the long-journey nearly complete.

Tears flowed, laughter and joy warmed the space that'd once held the emptiness of lost comradery and love. Two sisters, two hearts, despite all odds, united.  

As eagles watched, we walked arm in arm, along the rocky, windswept shores of the sea, and full circle into the present . . .

                                  Deepest Blessings
                                        SvG

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​The Promise of spring. A pair of swans our wetland preserve, and the arrival of a tiny, gorgeous spirit horse!
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​                    Five days old, born on the equinox . . .

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After spending three magical days and nights with us our amazing turkey friends vanished. Returning to the wild, just as mysteriously as they had come.

While they visited the turkeys followed me everywhere, seeming to have no fear. In the morning they were waiting by the front door, then would come along as I walked the rounds of chores.

First the big tom, then all the hens followed along down the little path, and yes, even on into the barn.! They were all so curious, investigating everyone and everything. Once satisfied they stood around watching and chirping as I fed and watered all our usual barn friends.

The really odd thing was, it was never about food as some might like to think. They just seemed genuinely to want to be near us, strangely curious and bonded. And always looking up, talkative. Chattering  away in their own mysterious and ancient language, as if trying to convey something of great importance. 

Two of the nights the turkeys flew to the top of our two story house and roosted on the peak of the roof. The third night they took up position on the front porch. Two roosting on the back of the bench left of the door, two on the back of the bench right of the door. As if they were watching over us, sentinels of earth energy and and deep wild power. 

The next morning the turkeys were up early, a rosy-gold light tinting the frosty trees and ground. They hopped off their perches, then walked single file away towards the woods.  Never to be seen again. 

The experience was astounding, the magic intense, real and humbling. We will never see a turkey the same again.

The spirit of Earth Eagle came, there was grace, we are honored.
Thank you.

SvG


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Snow lies on the ground, winter continuing to shroud the land. Most of the wild animals are staying hidden away out of sight. Only the occasional set of tracks testifies to unseen activities and lives.

That is why this mornings encounter was such a surprise.. 

First there was a commotion in the yard Our male shepherd was stalking something. Then there was a whirl of black and white fur, flapping wings and grey-brown feathers. We called out, hurriedly retrieving our little buddy from his glorious chase.

To our surprise the feathers belonged to a large wild tom turkey. Along with three hens the bird had evidently been snatching food from the bird feeder-tub on the front porch.

After a few minutes every one had calmed down and our new acquaintances cautiously climbed the few steps back onto the porch.

We watched in awe. In a lifetime of experience and nature watching neither of us had ever been this close to a wild turkey. Normally these wary creatures flee in a panic before one even sees them. And these were completely wild birds.

After a time of viewing them through the large sliding door, I ventured to squat down and open it a crack. Speaking softly, I held out a handfull of seeds and corn. The turkeys chirped, gurgled and tweeted sweetly amongst themselves, seeming more cautious and curious than afraid.

Soon the hen with the bluest head approached. She held my gaze for a moment or two, considering. Then she actually took the feed. Slowly, gently I reached towards her with the other hand. We connected, my fingers brushing the feathery softness of her breast, the moment was powerful, pure. 

The magic continued. For hours. My new friends were soon following along behind as I made my way to the barn for morning chores. They investigated everything. The buildings, the fences, the other animals. Then as I threw some scratch feed to Mr. Rooster and his hens, I called toward the turkeys. Gathering around my feet, they watched attentively as I tossed a little feed their way too.

Then it was back to the house. The turkeys stayed by the barn, hens feeding,. male intent on displaying and performing a little wing dragging circle dance. Claiming his girls, his new territory.

After a while I went back outside and called. It was truly amazing. There the turkeys came, slowly, single file, from the nearby cedar woods. Through the yard, up the path and back onto the porch to peck up the cracked corn placed in a pan for them.

And I've heard it said that turkeys are among the stupidest of animals. These amazing wild beings learned in one un-orchestrated session the meaning of my sing-song dinner call.

                                       Spirit Sisters


When you are your authentic self, walking in stillness, not wanting, nature and Mother Earth respond. Then, in innocence, true connection takes place.
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                                       Earth Eagle

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Sacred messengers of abundance, trust, dignity, innocence, peace, harmony and shared blessings.


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                                 The Curious One

Deep Peace, 
SvG


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Last night lightening flashed, thunder rumbled and the wind howled along the drive and lane. The shapes of tall white pines swayed wildly against the dark of the sky. As I lay awake listening, the change was palpable, the night full of mystery, and magic.  

Later I dreamed of a young woman with the wide fierce eyes of an owl. She stood on a mountain top, dark hair flying in the wind. Music came, she danced to a gypsy tune and reached out, hand seeking mine.

Rain thrummed steadily on the roof. Tears spilled down my cheeks.  Staining the pillow, shimmering softly in the first faint light of the coming dawn. 

I recalled a time long ago, when the still of the winter solstice and the dark of the new moon conspired to bring on a birth. A little girl. The third of three lives I would love with the deep, true love only a mothers heart knows. 

She was mystery and quiet, beauty and night. A child of the deep, the winter,  the horse-path of ancient knowledge and wisdom. A precious gift from the Great Divine.

                                            * * *
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Tonight an owl calls in the dark. Snow enfolds the earth, bringing softness and silence. The solstice grows nearer.

Decades have waxed and waned, solstices and winters come and gone. Yet still, the memory is present and clear. Through the disordered maze of stones and sorrows littering the way between us, Love flows. A great strong river, sweeping away all doubt. The time is precious and unforgotten. 

In my dreams the raven haired girl remembers too . . .


The dark thins and fades, the owl falls silent. Dawn dances rose and gold along the eastern edge of the horizon. Night reaches completion and winter nods bravely to the warmth and possibilities of spring.

The sun is on the verge of a long slow rise away from this shadow-time of healing and reflection. 

​The light is returning, inevitably, and surely as it has for countless  generations. Life goes on. The cycles turning, completing, turning again. And just as surely, Love goes on too. Lighting the dark, dancing on the mountain tops, whispering its secrets and possibilities on the wind

You are mystery and quiet
Beauty and night
Daughter of the winter
Child of the Light . . .

Love and Blessings,
SvG

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                          WHEAT STRAW HORSE

                                The process of creation
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                                       Day Four
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                                       Week Three
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                                      Week Five
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                   Elements of the land woven and bound,
                           into a unique and magical work of art.
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Well here we are again. In that space between summer and winter.

This morning the first light of the sun turned dew into diamonds, and warmed the autumnal flowers into fragrance. Cranes called to their families and lifted off. Their lanky, blue grey shapes silhouetted against a backdrop of just harvested, grain-fields gave weight to the change sensed clearly in the air. From beneath a pile of stones, a cricket chirped, the slow notes of his song betraying last nights lingering chill.

 Stepping through the silvery damp of the grasses, my feet left a trail of bent blades and dark green prints. Spiders clung to sagging webs draped from weed to weed. Silken strands held the moisture, looking like tiny strings of translucent pearls in the new light. 

Soft calls and restless movements announced my arrival as I drew nearer the barn. Enclosed safely within wood sided corrals, gentle-eyed cows and tiny horses waited, each eager for apple treats and release into their grazing fields.

Begging goodies for his hens, Mr. Rooster called out too. Taking care of them all, and walking proud little mares and stallion to their pasture, each moment shone with beauty, and grace. 

Just as chores were finished our resident Redtail Hawk came to perch in the cedar grove just north of the barn. She whistled in greeting as she often does. I spoke out softly to her. She answered, honoring our little world with a cascade of talkative chucks and chirps.

Unafraid, this fierce creature of the wild trusts and communicates. Even asking for help when 'great-white-hunters' come stalking the nearby woods.

Life is truly amazing in its interconnectedness.

If only the illusion could be dispelled and we all understood that separation does not actually exist. That nothing, and no one, is ever really alone. That unobstructed connection and trust, carries us through the gateway. Unveils our authentic selves. And ultimately, brings us face to face with destiny.

                                           Blessings, SvG







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