nature – Penny Reilly Artist Beyond the Gate

Autumn muse, seasonal musings and a little magick…

There’s been a pause for me… everything slowed and yet internally I’ve been moving fast… my mind racing to find answers to the craziness we’re witnessing. But, then I stop and look around me… at the beauty of this world despite the cruelty of human behaviour and wonder if so many lost their way, lost their natural rhythm or just hadn’t found it.

I realised I have and that in truth I never lost it. From childhood running wild amongst the trees. Exploring natural nooks and crevices in their knobbly bark while my mouth, and fingers became purpled with wild blackberry stain… that same stain I brew for ink.

A trip to the coast, where at low tide, tiny crabs and other crustaceans could be seen in rook pools or half buried in tidal foam rims of kelp and other flotsam and jetsam.

Today, in my seventies, that child is alive and well. Although I may not clamber down a rocky shoreline or even race around the orchard at the farm that was my home in West Sussex, so long ago, she lives behind my eyes, in my seeking hands and in my mind that will never tire of witnessing the wonder nature lays out before me. A different farm may hold me now… Australian energy is very different to the Isle where I was born and where I grew to adulthood before launching myself into the world, but somehow the link between is clearly marked by the parallels in the landscape now, after years of merging the Australian with the Isle of Britain. Perhaps, in so doing, I have instigated an energy exchange… a portal or a tunnel if you will, that creates a liminal space to allow the myths and legends of both tiny island and vast continent to merge via the energy exchange of trees, fungi, native and non native flora and fauna.

Autumn for me is the season of the muse… she arrives in the crunch of dry leaves underfoot and the soft earthy scents of moss and mud. In the woods, spirits stir, stretching rustly leaf-wings… Samhain approaches and the veil thins, letting creatures come and go unhindered through the corridors of time.

The nature of this world is change. Seasons change and the year moves through its natural cycles. When the very nature of humankind shifts us from one cycle into another of violence and death, starvation, homelessness and fear, all in the need for political/financial gain… life, aka nature, simply keeps going.

Her cycles change and adapt, but she doesn’t need us… so yes, she moves from spring into summer, into autumn and winter, seamlessly. A tree falls… other organisms thrive on the remains and nothing is wasted. Flowers bloom, fade, become berries or apples and are devoured by whatever predator gets there first and we are one of them… we are predators, our instincts to survive pushing us to live, to breath, to have, to create and to destroy and all is mirrored in nature except… we want it all and if not freely given, we take and take and take to build our little empires that too, will eventually fall into obsolescence.

Just as leaves fall and seeds are blown on the wind, (or perhaps, make a journey through the alimentary canal of bird or beast) we shed skin follicles, hair, droplets of fluid from sweat, tears, spittle… not to mention other bodily functions, solids and fluids. These particles that bear our ‘Sigil,’ our unique signature of who we are, are constantly and eternally drifting out into the universe to share themselves (aka explains themselves) to anything else they come into contact with. I am sure you’ve all heard the phrase ‘we are made of the stuff of the stars,’ …well of course we are!

A tree in the forest communicates with everything around it in the same manner, in order for creatures to understand its signature as ‘eat me’ or ‘eat me at your peril.’ It’s only humans who are stupid enough to forget the signatures of the forests; the signatures of the elements in weather patterns through cupped leaves, bird and animal behaviour or simply by that feeling in the belly that something is about to shift.

The communication of that same tree is no different to our sigil of skin, hair, spittle etc., it loses leaves, seed pods and seeds go into the ground. Dust from its bark and the bark itself, falls to become particles that fly off to join with others to create something else entirely. Eventually the whole tree will rot and fall… does it question that? It’s really only us that say, ‘oh no you can’t dispose of my body like that. You can’t let it rot where it is like all the other creatures of the forest, including trees and all plant/animal life!

Yes, naturally, ceremony for our dead is important, honouring our ancestors too, but how the body disperses into those particles in the Dance of Life is probably the moot point and the mystery. It is our ‘reaction versus response’ that has made us the way we are towards life and death itself. We are I feel, even more sensitive right now to these rituals of honouring due to the way we see the world shaping up; descending into war, famine and fear. Random, tragic events are also more evident every day through the news and social media.

We mourn, we grieve but nature simply moves on… cycles change, seasons change and it is there… right there in nature, we come to terms with mortality, fragility, fear and pain by its mirror of ourselves but completely without judgement. She teaches us to feel it all, to surrender to it all and find the peace of simply being…

I decided to begin Wild Spirit Whispers (now that the the layout and ideas are more firmly strung together, rather than rattling around like wooden beads on a thread), with the season of autumn as she wanders through my psyche, trailing long sleeves of frost and dew, through the icy portal towards winter.

She’s such a delicate entity, made of pure reason and yet prone to throw off the season’s delicately coloured skeins and stride along in white and silver moon-struck lace, just to catch one unawares… sprinting ahead with random ideas, thoughts and dreams of a final completion to another year and the beginning of another book… my tenth.

Yet, in this season of withdrawal, when leaves fall, let loose by the retreat of sap and energy, we too may go within and seek out the next phase of our being. Just as I attempt to do same… there she is, entering my dreams with odd sounds and symbols. Clattering around like a cook in a kitchen who can’t find the right implements to create a feast, all in my sleeping psyche.

At first she leaves only remnants for story, prose, art or poetry but then in she comes with the rubber mallet, leaving larger deposits of data for my battered brain to work through and it’s precisely at this moment it’s time to retreat to the studio… no matter the given hour, to write or paint until she leaves me to my slumbers…

As this inner dialogue progresses, amounts of information are downloaded in huge juicy bites (sometimes, sound-bites) then it’s left to me to conjure it into some sort of order, understandable for mortal ingestion.

			
When spirit speaks
in muffled tones
and autumn drifts
into wintry zones
you can feel the calling
in your very bones
…speaking the rhythm of nature
When mind clouds gather
and winter winds roar
the muse enters
through a forgotten door
taking your mind to leap and soar
…singing the rhythm of nature
When the mind is free
to wandering
allowing the time
for pondering
a landscape appears
beyond all mortal fears
…whispering the rhythm of nature
When mankind’s actions
threaten extinction
storms create fractiles
of pulsing division
Earth rumbles and shakes
volcano spume
deep earth quakes
…roaring the rhythm of nature
When oak presents its tiny flowers
and birch shines silver
in sweet rain showers
red tipped leaves glow
in sacred bowers
do you know the reason
you sit for hours
…absorbing the rhythm of nature

		

…and so the journey of creation begins anew as I prepare to dive into wintry solitude with my whispering muse.

I heard an old song, sung

Black is Black

about loss and gain

harvest and lack

when our heart bleeds ink

onto paper thin

can the poem wrought

soak into our skin

leaving trails of silvery

tears in the dark

in circles round

a luminescent track

in an ark

…of pain

we are told is gain

yet

black is black

in soft, velvet folds of night

and without the dark

we cannot see

…the light

Walk softly… tread gently… surrender to the season’s muse… Awen /|\

Penny 💚🙏💚

Animism, Anima Mundi, Genius Loci and the World Soul…

Boo and Boody-bird are a fixture… they fight over food but otherwise spend their days hunting and calling to each other from the trees around the house… two misfits in a world of perfection-seeking beauty. Most of the flock that came through have moved on to harvest the bugs waking from winter slumbers but my two crazy opportunists have opted to stay, for now at least.

Boo keeps me company as I sit in the first sunshine with any real warmth, to dream of what I’ll be planting or have planted for spring. She seems content, a funny wee thing with her overly long and unnaturally twisted tail, while Boody-bird keeps a little distance unless I have a bug for each of them… then the squawking and squabbling begins.

I take a little time to think about the books and how to bring everything together… if I put it all down there’d be a thousand pages, so really, although the next novel has made progress, Wild Spirits Whisper is not quite manifesting yet.

I don’t want it to be a ramble of words… I want it to be just enough in art, photography, poetry and information to tempt a person to want a little more of my meanderings. Perhaps, how to make ink from plants, how to print with leaves or flowers, how to plan a sustainable lifestyle and garden without becoming exhausted in this crazy, in a hurry, world. Add favourite recipes to create from home grown produce; simple methods that don’t take as much out of a person to create. A self-sufficient lifestyle can be exhausting if allowed to run away with one… after all, it’s supposed to be a slower paced life, not one of worry and stress… and then behind it all is the philosophy of why…

Nature gives us seasons of plenty and of lack, but there’s always been enough to take us through a tricky season and naturally, we can’t grow grains or rice so we still have to invest back into a struggling system and there’s always tools etc., needed to run a productive farm and a productive farm brings people together and creates a community of like minds.

We keep items for standby… flour, salt, rice, a little sugar etc… and there’s eggs, root vegetables, berries or wild greens most of the year round. So my book IS about this natural lifestyle, but more simply, about re-finding, perhaps redefining and exploring the connection to our natural environment that so many have lost in believing we are separate from the rest of nature.

Anima Mundi is the lovely concept of a World Soul, a unifying principle that gives life and consciousness to the universe. Animism is the belief that spirits or souls inhabit all things, not just humans, and that these spirits can influence the world. This philosophical concept, found in various spiritual traditions, proposes a universal soul or life force that animates the cosmos, suggesting that Earth and her components are not merely physical entities, but are infused with a spiritual essence. So much of this is mirrored today in quantum physics and cosmology in terms of us and everything being made of the same stuff of the stars, planet and indeed, the cosmos from which everything originated.

This worldview of Animism, emphasises that spirit or soul inhabit, not just humans and animals, but also plants, rocks, and geographical features… i.e. Genius Loci. It sees the spiritual and physical worlds as intertwined, with all entities possessing agency and consciousness… in fact, all is one and so many have sadly been conned into believing we are not just separate but quasi, ‘better than’ anything else in the universe. This is our downfall as we watch the planetary system and wild nature that sustains us, become slowly untenable.

Modern Druidry, drawing from ancient Celtic practices, is inherently animistic. Druids see the natural world as a sacred entity, respecting its various elements and spirits. Druidic Practices often involve connecting with the spirits of nature, honouring seasonal changes, and recognising the sacredness of specific places and beings. This can include practices like tree planting, creating sacred groves, storytelling and poetry. Here in Australia, our own First Nation people, had such reverence for the land.

Still today, we Druids use the term “Awen” to describe the life force that animates all things and the creative flow that stems from it. This concept reflects the belief that all beings are interconnected and share a common spiritual essence.

Animism, Genius Loci (Spirit of Place) and the concept of Anima Mundi provide a framework for understanding the spiritual interconnectedness of all things, which is deeply embraced by Druidic practices. We embrace the annual cycle by marking the seasons and lunar months. Instead of blocking out the night which balances the day; our days begin at dusk and darkness is celebrated equally to light.

I could write about fears and anxiety for the state of the world but honestly, I think removing myself and speaking of things I love, speaking of quiet change that starts within a person is more profound.

Why does this all matter… I hear so many say, it’s too late, so let’s just continue the hedonistic journey to our own destruction…. but let me just say…

We need spiritually connected people with practical skills.

Healers who can empathise with people whether they’ve personally experienced a similar journey or not. Creative muses who know how to stack wood, plant trees, cook and scrub pots with equal enthusiasm.

We need teachers who show children the forest ways, how to tend a garden and share the bounty. To teach them to remember wild childlike being-ness over cyber rivalry and bullying.

Political and spiritual leaders who listen to bees, hear what the waters have to tell and the language of trees.

We don’t need the escapism of so called spiritually enlightened people who believe they are readying themselves for the ‘ascension of the special people,’ who would rather leave the world than face the challenges of reconnection to nature. We need a more authentic, down to earth embodiment of this existence… more grounded, rootedness. More thankful, appreciative ritual connections, that touch the Earth before wanting to escape to their concept of heaven.

If we walk together to the places where our souls can find rest, natural power is quiet, and sacred… not needing show off rituals that scream ‘Look at me.”

When the world unravels, we need weavers of energy and substance to reweave the threads… for what if this is all their is for us to experience in this, our current form on our planet?

We need community above escapism… we’re all in this together…

I will not apologise for being human

my place is here on earth

I will not apologise

for my rage or joy

…my dark and light

this place called home is falling into night

Constantly, I witness

those who believe they will ascend

…who focus on flight

on being other than earthly

…for me, their ignorance is a blight

We need those who walk the land

grow food and commit to life

We need those, who with tools in hand

…lend help to build a peaceful way

free from the state of strife

We are all one

A part of the infinite

We are all whole

only we have defined

even denied it

Dissatisfied with self

we seek to criticise another

forgetting we are all, simply

sister and brother

Walk softly… reconnect… Awen /|\

Penny

On the move towards Solstice…

Winter arrived with a boom… days of autumn sunshine and colour, turned white by instant frost… brrrr, -3°.

Still… winter brings introspection as solstice approaches. We burrow deep into the cold… dark days, somehow bring hope. We know, subtle underground movement is already afoot… green shoots silently unfurl to break through the icy crust. When I close my eyes, I imagine them slumbering, waiting and with animism, perhaps anticipating, how the light will feel on their green flesh… sunlight, pulling on them, tugging them to reach up to the light from the darkness beneath.

Sow the seeds
Weave the web in time
Weave
sow
Grow
in wisdom
in knowledge
of the
life stream
and the
soul spark
of
intelligence
…breathe
All one
Awen

I love to connect in this way to the earth and all things, by knowing I am a part of it all, as it is all a part of me… all of me, contributing to the wheel of life.

Life is a moment and in that moment, all moments exist. Life can appear fleeting or be forever in full consciousness. There is no separation between who we once were in the scheme of things, are now or will be “one day”, for all is a continuum.

Complex thoughts, and yet not, unless one thinks in straight lines, past, present, future rather than in circles, and cycles of ascension and descension… expansion and contraction, filling up and emptying out.

There again, perhaps our very challenge is overthinking. Does nature think, “I’m a daisy; I wanted to be a rose.” Does an amber-coloured leaf in autumn, wish to be green?

As children, we fight to maintain our identity until parental expectation, educational institutions and peer pressure, forces competition, whittling away at our personality, character and psyche until we’re swamped, drowning, in other’s expectations of how they perceive we should be. We’re moulded by circumstance.

This is the pivotal moment, when we can realise, we are in fact, our inner parent or teacher, continuing to hear and be instructed by the echo of their physical counterparts instead of learning to simply be ourselves.

The thing is… nature doesn’t judge how we behave, how we express ourselves or criticise who we intrinsically are, with or without societies trappings… just as a daisy doesn’t wish to be a rose.

Letting go of guilt-induced reactions to how others respond to our internal change, can be like running a marathon… but when does the adult self, stop apologising for who they are, despite the constant inner and outer critique.

Nature doesn’t judge the leaves falling, to strip branches bare, or new leaves budding on near-naked limbs.

Life in all its ages and stages is a precious gift so why waste it, desiring to be something we were not designed to be? Isn’t this a unique wonder in itself?

Observing nature, we see there are few straight lines, except those we create. Nothing is linear. Droplets of water constantly change shape to adapt and are a part of a greater body be it a droplet, an ocean or small pond. If we understand everything is energy in constant motion, where there is a void space, something always rushes to fill it and there is no judgment in the process. Unless we ourselves, judge that filling as good or bad and this, dependent on where our thoughts are leading us.

If we can reconnect to nature’s cycles, movements, brief pauses, breath held and let go… a beating heart, a pulse within myriad pulses, we simply become. Every cell becomes luminous with cell-wisdom-memory of everything experienced, and in the remembering, remembers its source.

When we become aware, strength lies in the allowance of emptiness and in not filling empty spaces. In this knowing, we can choose substance to fill the void, and in fact always do, even by not choosing. Waiting, empty, gives us clarity to know what we truly desire. I speak not of “having” for the sake of it …because it’s the most recent fad or gadget, but more the awareness, “being in emptiness” can bring. It has its own taste, smell, sound, sensation and there is nothing to fear there, except the proverbial fear itself.

My waking and sleeping moments, fill with the rhythm and scent of nature’s cycles rather than the tick-tock of the business world. Although that said, I run my own studio… one has to live, but the key is to find the ultimate balance between the perceived mundane and the “spiritual life” …and there we have it – everything is spirit/energy, and therefore, spiritual… sacred.

Hollowing out
emptying
Seeking the purpose of life,
in simply being
Giving up
the fight for more,
allows unhindered flow

Living… simply being
with no place
left to go
Past
present
future
merges
the well of life
upsurges

The wheel spins
on and round
All places,
all seasons
begin and end
…on sacred ground.

The ocean tides, whittle away at the shoreline as we wear away our lives, often in needless struggles for understanding.

All energy is in motion constantly, in waves and pulses, just as our body is in flow and flux, cyclical birth to death, with each waxing and waning moon. We are ultimately 78% fluid. Our body is at the mercy of those internal and exterior tides unless we can be observant, present in awareness as those tides turn. Thus, we can see ourselves not as helpless puppets, but empowered by those very tides, toward the shores of creative consciousness by our own choices.

Our natural state
of being
is magick
Moving between
full, exhilarant joy
and oft, comedy tragic
Spaces between
filled with
liquid notes sublime
in cycles spinning
adhering to the rhyme
Diaphonous, silken threads
on the loom of time
fading in and out
annual, biannual, diurnal
We are but a blip
in life eternal

Walk softly… make wise choices… Awen /|\

Penny

You can now find me at my website http://pennyreillyauthor.com for direct book purchases.

We cavorted toward an early spring and then came arctic winds…

While icy rime coats every blade of grass, already bluebells are breaking through and Daphne is showing spring blossom buds. Crocus and Calendula flower, lend a vibrancy to otherwise what have been icy, mizzle-drizzle days. Spring it seems, is in a hurry, despite arctic weather. Is it because she knows, with the climate change occurring, she must hasten the process of propagation before time runs low?

Across the globe I observe the opposites to the geographical norm in weather patterns and behaviour. We have stirred the climate pot and I’m really not sure if it can be reversed, unless everyone is prepared to their bit, forgoing owning stuff for a simpler life.

Today, after intense wild storms overnight and continuing winds, we have definitely seen possibly five seasons in one day… or just in the last three hours actually. By the calendar, spring is officially here but we have had snow. Robins are still with us, though… bright flames of colour zipping through the landscape and spring doesn’t fully happen until they leave us.

We’re post Imbolc and spring equinox now and the land is beginning to truly come to life… I snuck the first early strawberry today… but shhhhhh… keep that to yourself. 🤭

This lovely day is however, in isolation as yet again a polar front approaches. At least the seedlings are safe from harm in the greenhouses, where yesterday bees hummed their honey-drone song and I warmed my bones, weeding and planting.

There is a place that we can go

beyond the muddy tales of woe

where waters pool in depths that glow

with dreams of hope renewing

Where bee-sung songs drone of peace and plenty

bird chorus sings of a life never empty

With nature’s rhythms gently flow

barely rippling the grass

…walk softly

In stillness lies a sense of peace

within the mist and the sound of wings

and in the stillness a song up-drifts

as bird calls, the heart uplifts

Our senses soar, in stillness growing

In deepest silence, across waters flowing

In nature’s rhythm gently flow

barely rippling the grass

…walk softly

So, just a short chat from me today… I could rant about the state of the world, disappointment in humankind particularly in areas of politics, climate change, wars… but really, it mostly falls on deaf ears as we go about the daily business of life and finding sanity…

Walk softly…

Penny

Moving into change… making more from less…

Lughnasagh came and went… autumn equinox dawned and sped away. We had a really dry spell but this week a cold, wet front came through and everything is immediately green again as if a switch was flicked into icy cold overnight.

Our air up here is so crystal clear, sunsets are legendary and already the first frosts are making themselves felt rather early this year. Our twenty rolling acres are green again.

Now, as we hurtle towards Samhain nights are becoming longer, daylight hours shorter. At this time I always feel as though I get so much more done in these shorter days because its cooler to work outside but snug and blissfully warm in both studio, barn-house and the new greenhouse. It seems after waiting so long for the second one to be built, suddenly in moments planting began and seed trays are germinating in their little seed raising unit. What a bonus to add space and length of time to our growing season.

Our haven, our bolt hole, away from the noise of even our small local town, is frankly, bliss.

Some folk are made for city living, seeking out the dubious thrill, noise and the appearance of an abundance of choices as to how to while away the time when not working the proverbial 9-5 in TikTok time. I guess I see that more like filling in time, frankly.

Food and fashion fads prevail… influencers tell people how to look, think, speak, what to eat or not eat and how to be in the world to be seen, to be recognised. It’s a trap, because really… you don’t need anyone’s recognition if you know and accept who you are. I firmly believe my work sells because the right people find it, not because I’m putting myself out there as ‘special,’ but rather different, as we all are and uniquely so. Isn’t it more positive to be different than to believe we all have to follow the masses and be the same as… the natural progression of that would, possibly, be cloning!

Food has also in my eyes, as a one-time restaurateur, serving simple but wholesome food, become a rude and elitist business with crazy fads and prices as people seek new flavour experiences, constantly. We all need to eat but what goes on a plate as a serving size of food is often obscene and much is wasted, particularly when we know some can’t make ends meet and that one meal would be several servings for them. On the other hand, high-end restaurants serve tiny portions of foam and schaum with splashes of this and that and a sprig of green. I wonder how many people, still hungry after paying a small fortune, end up buying a takeaway to fill their near-empty belly.

It doesn’t feel as if many are truly looking at the naked truth of food… it’s to feed the body and if we have choices in flavour and selection, it’s a privilege to be so well fed. Food should be blessed and savoured but for me, simple is best, where each element of the meal is full of the true flavour of the original item. A fresh bean or tomato, picked still warm from the sun makes me wonder, other than the obvious need to keep food fresh, why cold food has to be freezing, robbing it of flavour and vitamins? (That said, food miles are another huge issue in keeping foods fresh and vitamin rich, but that’s another story.)

Then there are those who avoid the plastic glamour of it all to grow the city-folk food that then becomes no longer ‘in’ enough anymore. Farmers multitask their crops and growing seasons to suit the latest fashions of food-faddery, and it’s hard enough growing large crops as it is. First Kale, then Chia, Wheatgrass, Blueberries, Cranberries, rare fruits and mushrooms etc., became the thing to keep one young and vibrant… dubbed superfoods, too much of any one of them can be toxic to many.

What happened to less is more? Potatoes, and dairy are spurned… only to find that kale has more tannic acid than rhubarb… calories and proteins are needed to build muscle, unadulterated dairy for strong weight bearing bones and a moderate balance of all food groups is the key. Skinny does not necessarily equal healthy, either.

In my experience, veganism can often equal elitism… would we be so fussy if there were only potatoes, meat and dairy available because crops of the “in-foods” had failed? Something, even a tiny, humble bug, is killed or displaced when we harvest plants and would that fat rabbit, feral pig or deer, be ignored if hunger knocked at the door? It strikes me as worth thinking about, what a human would eat to prevent starvation.

After a good table grape harvest this year, the surplus is dried for raisins… a wonderful supplement for snacks, on a cheese platter or reconstituted in curry sauces. So much food goes to waste and it’s preventable… don’t throw your surplus or leftovers away… dry, freeze, preserve, every little bit. A full pantry is a joy to have and no food waste is the result.

Hens supply our unfertilised eggs, (no rooster) they eat our kitchen scraps and get to clean out the greenhouses at the end of a season… they provide manured mulch for us to add to our grow beds to grow yet more food each year… a natural cycle.

Our hens are loved as part of our tribe and they have a huge expanse of orchard garden to find natural proteins and greens, and also clean up windfall fruit and any bugs that damage them, supplemented by a complete layer mix of seed and dry grasses in winter. We protect them by only letting them free range when we’re outside with them and lock them away from predators at night. They are a huge part of the garden workings and their eggs are sublime. We don’t eat our hens but as stated before, if anyone is starving, well?

Self-sufficiency is not about squirrelling food away for times of lack, but there’s an immense satisfaction in a simple way of being that focuses on seed to shoot, to bud, leaf and fruit that is grown in abundance to share around a table with friends and family. Contrary to those who would rather buy from the supermarket because everything’s there in one place, the taste is beyond any store bought foods… and vitamin rich, as we’re sticklers for keeping our soil healthy too.

What would happen

if we all wanted less

less mess, less stuff

less electricity

less commuting

driving, travelling

What if

we stayed put

for a while…

grew our own food

as much as

the local climate allowed…

traded what we couldn’t grow

recycled, repurposed

redesigned stuff

that otherwise

goes to landfill

What if

puffed up lips

fingernails like talons

and “perfect”

designer figures

were no longer

a must have

to suit

someone else’s ideal

What if

muscle and lean flesh

came naturally

from working in nature daily

What if

hopping on planes

to sit in the sun

elsewhere

was replaced by

sitting in the sun

talking with

a lonely neighbour

locally

What if

instead of complaining

that “they”

should do something

about the carbon footprint

whilst driving to the shops

to buy that new

influencer-touted item

that will change your life

made in sweatshops

on the other side

of the globe

What if

YOU

were to do

all you can

…and then, within it all we’re surrounded by the creatures who inhabit the land and we do all we can to keep that happening as a natural progression. We live with and interact with them… they have huge tracts of forest and wetlands around but they choose to be here in close proximity to us.

I refuse to prescribe to humans as a a virus or an oversight in nature… it’s a strange way of seeing ourselves as superfluous to the equation. Yes, we have done extensive damage to many lives, many creatures, with our selfish view of development at all cost and are paying the price with climate change and the extinction of millions of species, as we delude ourselves into thinking that we are more important than any other life form. In so doing, we have upset the natural balance of a planetary, multilevel ecosystem and are paying the price for greed.

We work with nature and the creatures around us and I’m happy to see a growing movement of people aspiring to return to a simple way of living in balance with, rather than in domination of nature. We preserve life here but also protect our gardens and the food we grow because we have an equal right to live and eat. This way every living thing is fed and nurtured…

Listen

to the sounds

between the notes

howling stark

through rising dark

and whispers soft

…born from stillness

spun aloft

on fierce winds

that bring

the song

of life and death

carried on every breath

through eons

…across time and space

in a wild

cosmic movement

leaving nothing

in place

only the illusion

of separation

hidden

in the music

between the notes

…listen

Walk softly… be aware of all of life as equal… Awen /|\

Penny

Moving towards equinox…

Morning dew settled on the grasses, creating tiny prisms of light on every blade, leaf and tightly closed wildflower. The second week of March already, and just nine days to Mabon/Autumn Equinox/Alban Elfed, and this morning was the closest to a frost despite more ominous weather warnings of another heatwave… for us, that means barely 30, but for others it’s a continuum of wildfires and waiting for the autumn rains. A nice drenching now would certainly be a bonus.

The Welcome Stranger swallows are getting ready to leave, filling their bellies with a myriad of bugs that have emerged in the warmer weather… they’re most welcome to any fierce March flies they can catch!

I captured them in conversation, perhaps about which route to take this year… far north of our southern eyrie or wherever they will head for winter. (The Debate… Ink and graphite with water wash on cotton rag.)

There are other wonderful creatures that have arrived though… perhaps because we are a cooler clime and pollen is widely available from both cultivar and wildflowers. Numerous black crickets, a Giant Green Slant Face and a Spotted Brown Butterfly… the latter two of which, don’t belong in our region, but the greenhouse is also full of nasturtium and tomatoes still flowering, tended by the honey bees, wild natives and butterfly, alike.

As I planted I sang to myself, as I’m wont to do. High trilling notes joined my chorus and a tiny scrub wren sat watching me… probably hunting tiny insects disturbed by my digging in mulch and soil, but her rippling song, lifted my spirits high.

Writing my next book has become a very intense and lengthy task, and I’m nowhere near where I want to be, but it’s taking me into more uncharted waters that are harder to share in words… I’ll persist, slowly but surely and in between writing I create some of the art and poetry that will accompany this Journal of Wild Spirits…

Our bees are happy, foraging far and wide and apparently completely heat resistant in the high temps we’ve experienced, until today. Sunflowers are covered with feeding bees and there’s nothing like the taste of raw honey. 🍯

Not so happy in the heatwave was a tiny long-eared bat, who clearly exhausted, excepted water from a soaking cloth before escaping into the open air as the afternoon began to cool. A distress indicator is seeing a bat in broad daylight and usually means hunger, thirst or a need to escape when trapped inside a house.

We’re used to micro bats living with us for most of the year, coming and going under the eaves of the house, then slipping between the walls into the rooms, but this was a little larger, quite friendly for all that it was probably terrified. I imagine it got in but couldn’t slip back out where the tiny micro bats come and go with ease.

All the signs of equinox are here, with hedgerow crabapples, fresh onions and herbs in abundance… tomatoes are still producing and rhubarb is just on the verge of ending… it’s a busy time in both kitchen and garden but the heat has slowed everything down.

After a ten day heatwave, crickets (both outside and in) and frogs are singing in duet, the mist is rolling in bringing much needed moisture and cooling has happened rapidly as we dropped from 27 down to 16 in a heartbeat.

There’s a curious air of something coming… like the stillness before an earthquake occurs somewhere in the world… as a sensitive I pick up on these phenomena and feel as if I’m vibrating right along with the silence as frogs and crickets, birds and the wind become absolutely still… not a breath but the mist creeping across the hot earth.

…and summer ends.

With warm wishes and blessings,

Penny