Hello Fellow Travelers,
So, spring has come and even given us a taste of summertime heat and humidity this week. The wild grasses and weeds are well past knee high now, flowers are blooming and spreading their seeds and pollens on the wind, while each tree and bush has soft, new leaves reaching eagerly for the light of the sun. All the critters, wild and domesticated, seem happy and content in the long awaited warmth and flush of succulent new growth. The only thing missing is the sight of butterflies and native bees buzzing and dancing on the fragrant air. . .but this year they are all strangely absent.
The lilacs in our yard and hedgerow bloomed and waited in vain for their usual pollinating, nectar sipping visitors, the little birds and other creatures who depend on these small flyers for sustenance also waited in vain, they never came.. . . Evidently, finally and shamefully, poisoned to death by the perpetrators of large scale agribussiness.
It is so hard for me to understand the enormous use of chemicals and GMO crops in this area. When I first came a few years ago I was completely awestruck by the deep black soil and its incredible natural tilth and fertility. Why anyone would want to poison and control, instead of work with, this magical land is really beyond me. Why don't we humans think past what can be grabbed in the short-term? Why don't we feel the spirits and lives, large and small, that vibrate with and all around us? Why is there such a soul damaging disconnect between ourselves and the absolute magic and miracle of life and the living of it? Why can't we realize that we are all just tiny threads in the indescribably amazing tapestry of all beingness and why is it that we never stop and take time to observe the truly immeasurable gifts and treasures all around us?
Yesterday, while working in the little patch of woods that we have been given care of, I spotted a tiny fawn bedded down beneath a small clump of red willow. She was as still as the stones that surrounded her, white spotted rusty-red coat blending into the shimmering dapples of sunlight and leaf shadow. What a wonder and miracle. . . the incredible harmony and perfection of natures design written into this one small, innocent creature.
The little fawn lay there for hours, only the slight movement of her breath and the glow of her dark, liquid eyes giving away the fact that she was a living creature. As I worked I sang small deer songs to her and felt a wealth of gratitude and humility sweep through my soul at the gift of love and life that surrounds and engulfs us all. In the sacredness of the moment my heart seemed to be beating with the rhythms of all that had ever been or would be, my spirit irrevocably intertwined with all that was.
A little later I walked the meandering path that I had just cleared and cleaned, the land breathed in and out, the wind picked up and seemed to be whispering ancient songs of flow and circumstance. Heading back to the barn to put away my tools the little trail took me through a stand of tall, white cedar trees and on past the steep, flowery banks of our swimming pond. My foot steps stirred the grasses, sending small frogs leaping for the safety of their watery hiding places before I emerged by the side of the pasture just built for the latest edition to our little family. . .
A tiny black horse with soft, curious eyes and wispy shadow-tail ran towards where I walked, tossed her head, and called out eagerly. Speaking softly in return I reached to touch the soft velvet of her nose and remembered the magical way in which she had come to us. . . .
It was early one day about a month ago, I had just brushed and turned out our tall riding horse and gone back into the house for a few bites of breakfast. Quickly finishing up my meal I headed back out to check on fences and fill water tubs when I was surprised to see a small, black, horse standing next to our larger, friendly mare. I shouted the news of the little stranger to my husband and flew out to see if I could catch her with lead rope and nibbles of tasty horse feed.
Carefully approaching, and speaking in low, reassuring tones, the wild little horse finally allowed me to grasp the ragged halter that was digging painfully into her face and poll. As soon as I had secured a good grip, I snapped on a lead rope and walked the small stranger out of the field and on towards our old barn.
The little horse was filthy and unkempt, her coat dull and ragged, her lovely brown eyes wild and suspicious. What little mane she had left was brittle and mite damaged. As I examined the small creature I could see that she had never received the love and care that she deserved. She flinched and pulled a way when touched, tried to kick and run when her feet were checked, and was terrified of being brushed, especially around her ears.
After cleaning up my new little charge a bit, I bedded down a stall with fresh shavings and hung feed, water and hay containers at a height she could comfortably reach.. The tiny creature measured just 33 inches at the withers . . . a true little fairy-horse with her small size and delicate build!
And so . . . that is how a beautiful new friend and spirit came to be part of our lives. . . . After weeks of seeking possible owners with no success, we gifted the small mare with the name Little Secret journey, due to her unknown adventures and travels on her way to arriving here on the farm.
As of this writing, Journey has settled in wonderfully and is learning the joys of love and companionship with eagerness and much curiosity. Her coat shines brightly in the sun now, her mane and tail are soft and rapidly growing out to their natural length, and in her eyes is a new confidence and glow at having found her small place in the world.
If only we humans could also take such little brave and mysterious journeys to discover our own true places in this world. Then perhaps, the birds and bees and butterflies, as well as all small, magical, fairy-horses would live and thrive within the love and protection which I believe all human beings were born to find, awaken to, and ultimately, to give. . . . .
Peace and Good Travels, SvG
So, spring has come and even given us a taste of summertime heat and humidity this week. The wild grasses and weeds are well past knee high now, flowers are blooming and spreading their seeds and pollens on the wind, while each tree and bush has soft, new leaves reaching eagerly for the light of the sun. All the critters, wild and domesticated, seem happy and content in the long awaited warmth and flush of succulent new growth. The only thing missing is the sight of butterflies and native bees buzzing and dancing on the fragrant air. . .but this year they are all strangely absent.
The lilacs in our yard and hedgerow bloomed and waited in vain for their usual pollinating, nectar sipping visitors, the little birds and other creatures who depend on these small flyers for sustenance also waited in vain, they never came.. . . Evidently, finally and shamefully, poisoned to death by the perpetrators of large scale agribussiness.
It is so hard for me to understand the enormous use of chemicals and GMO crops in this area. When I first came a few years ago I was completely awestruck by the deep black soil and its incredible natural tilth and fertility. Why anyone would want to poison and control, instead of work with, this magical land is really beyond me. Why don't we humans think past what can be grabbed in the short-term? Why don't we feel the spirits and lives, large and small, that vibrate with and all around us? Why is there such a soul damaging disconnect between ourselves and the absolute magic and miracle of life and the living of it? Why can't we realize that we are all just tiny threads in the indescribably amazing tapestry of all beingness and why is it that we never stop and take time to observe the truly immeasurable gifts and treasures all around us?
Yesterday, while working in the little patch of woods that we have been given care of, I spotted a tiny fawn bedded down beneath a small clump of red willow. She was as still as the stones that surrounded her, white spotted rusty-red coat blending into the shimmering dapples of sunlight and leaf shadow. What a wonder and miracle. . . the incredible harmony and perfection of natures design written into this one small, innocent creature.
The little fawn lay there for hours, only the slight movement of her breath and the glow of her dark, liquid eyes giving away the fact that she was a living creature. As I worked I sang small deer songs to her and felt a wealth of gratitude and humility sweep through my soul at the gift of love and life that surrounds and engulfs us all. In the sacredness of the moment my heart seemed to be beating with the rhythms of all that had ever been or would be, my spirit irrevocably intertwined with all that was.
A little later I walked the meandering path that I had just cleared and cleaned, the land breathed in and out, the wind picked up and seemed to be whispering ancient songs of flow and circumstance. Heading back to the barn to put away my tools the little trail took me through a stand of tall, white cedar trees and on past the steep, flowery banks of our swimming pond. My foot steps stirred the grasses, sending small frogs leaping for the safety of their watery hiding places before I emerged by the side of the pasture just built for the latest edition to our little family. . .
A tiny black horse with soft, curious eyes and wispy shadow-tail ran towards where I walked, tossed her head, and called out eagerly. Speaking softly in return I reached to touch the soft velvet of her nose and remembered the magical way in which she had come to us. . . .
It was early one day about a month ago, I had just brushed and turned out our tall riding horse and gone back into the house for a few bites of breakfast. Quickly finishing up my meal I headed back out to check on fences and fill water tubs when I was surprised to see a small, black, horse standing next to our larger, friendly mare. I shouted the news of the little stranger to my husband and flew out to see if I could catch her with lead rope and nibbles of tasty horse feed.
Carefully approaching, and speaking in low, reassuring tones, the wild little horse finally allowed me to grasp the ragged halter that was digging painfully into her face and poll. As soon as I had secured a good grip, I snapped on a lead rope and walked the small stranger out of the field and on towards our old barn.
The little horse was filthy and unkempt, her coat dull and ragged, her lovely brown eyes wild and suspicious. What little mane she had left was brittle and mite damaged. As I examined the small creature I could see that she had never received the love and care that she deserved. She flinched and pulled a way when touched, tried to kick and run when her feet were checked, and was terrified of being brushed, especially around her ears.
After cleaning up my new little charge a bit, I bedded down a stall with fresh shavings and hung feed, water and hay containers at a height she could comfortably reach.. The tiny creature measured just 33 inches at the withers . . . a true little fairy-horse with her small size and delicate build!
And so . . . that is how a beautiful new friend and spirit came to be part of our lives. . . . After weeks of seeking possible owners with no success, we gifted the small mare with the name Little Secret journey, due to her unknown adventures and travels on her way to arriving here on the farm.
As of this writing, Journey has settled in wonderfully and is learning the joys of love and companionship with eagerness and much curiosity. Her coat shines brightly in the sun now, her mane and tail are soft and rapidly growing out to their natural length, and in her eyes is a new confidence and glow at having found her small place in the world.
If only we humans could also take such little brave and mysterious journeys to discover our own true places in this world. Then perhaps, the birds and bees and butterflies, as well as all small, magical, fairy-horses would live and thrive within the love and protection which I believe all human beings were born to find, awaken to, and ultimately, to give. . . . .
Peace and Good Travels, SvG
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