A Little Bit of Hope

From some humans who care.

Every Saturday morning, I head to the farmer’s market one town over. I take the faster route on the way there because I’m usually running late.

But, heading home, I take a slower, more scenic route.

Trees and mountains.

It takes my breath away every time, and most mornings, I don’t see any other cars. Maybe one or two, max. My kind of driving. :)

I’ll never forget the day my friend Robin and I were exploring the area around my soon-to-be new home. Robin is a champion spotter. “Look, there’s an owl! Stop!”

Or on that particular day, “Stop!!! A spring!”

I would probably still be here 2 1/2 years later, oblivious to this blessed gift of water if I hadn’t been driving with Robin. Every Saturday morning, I have to really pay attention to where it is. It’s easy to miss.

When my daughter and her friend were here visiting, I asked if they wanted to go to the spring to get water for the rest of their trip. My daughter looked at me puzzled, and said, “Uh, sure.”

When I pulled over to what looked like a stone bathtub on the side of the road, she laughed and said she thought we’d be trekking in the woods to get to the water bubbling up from the ground.

Every week when I stop, the first thing I do is thank the Spring. Sometimes I sing a song or just chat with her. Sometimes I leave a little crystal or special stone.

Because she’s alive, and she deserves my thanks.

I fill up my 1/2-gallon glass Mason jars, which will be my drinking water (and my plants) for the week.

My Geraniums that I brought inside for the winter seem to appreciate it. They’ve been gifting me with Pink blossoms for over a month.

And yes, I know that the sunshine coming through those 25 windows has a lot to do with those Pink blossoms!

I don’t care who thinks all this talking and singing and thanking the Nature beings is silly. I think it’s perfectly normal and necessary, and each time it deepens my relationship with our Mother Earth.

Believe it or not, living in the city all those years, I did the same thing. With my dozens of houseplants, the river where I rode my bike, and the blessed city trees, I always tried to remember to show my gratitude.

In 2019 I went through a very difficult time with a loved one. There was a group of Willow trees alongside the river where I rode my Pink bike. They became my refuge and gave me strength for many months.

I sat under them during winter, spring, and summer, gathering strength.

I even took some fallen branches and made them into a wreath to hang with my houseplants.

I only had two large north-facing windows in that apartment, but I made the best of them, and strangely, my plants seemed to thrive.

In the end, the conflict was resolved, and the Willows were who I wanted to tell first.

But the story doesn’t end there. Just months before I was moving, I came around the bend on my bike to see the trees being cut down. It was like a dagger in my heart. I don’t know if they’re all gone or what was planted in their place. I guess their beautiful fronds were annoying to the customers of the beer garden that had moved in behind where they lived. I don’t really know.

Before I left town, I was able to take a piece of the Grandmother Willow, who had given me such sage advice during those months. She lives on in my memory and sits on my windowsill.

There is so much happening in our world right now that, especially for sensitive souls, it seems overwhelming. I’m not someone to bury my head in the sand. I know what’s going on - or at least I think I do.

And when I feel powerless, all I want to do is deepen my relationship with the Earth. I’ll never know if my talking and singing matter to the plants and rocks and animals. The trees. Especially the trees.

But it gives me hope when I feel that deep connection to the Earth.

I feel somehow that there’s sacred healing going on, and I’m blessed to be a part of it.

Yesterday at the farmer’s market, I looked around at the farmers who have braved the inclement weather, snowstorms, and frigid temps for 11 months out of the year.

They are my heroes. They give me hope.

They grow my food.

Their chickens lay my eggs.

From Again and Again Farmstead

Amy and Smokey (standing in for Ethan)

I bought maple syrup that was tapped only two days ago.

While I am grateful for everything that alerts me to what may be headed our way, what gives me hope are people living in harmony with Nature. Every day.

And also humans who care enough to share ancient (often hidden) information that might truly make a difference when/if the proverbial you-know-what hits the fan.

This is a wonderful, hopeful conversation between

Reinette Senum

and Matt Roeske. It’s the third in a series of three interviews, all of which are worth watching.

The forgotten technique of ElectroCulture is making a speedy comeback. As the masses wake up to the all-encompassing destruction of our planet, simple, hands-on techniques are quickly germinating into the zeitgeist of society.

Matt Roeske of the popular blog, CultivateElevate, joins Reinette Senum again to go into ElectroCulture, how to stimulate garden growth through copper, bird songs, volcanic clay, structured water, and so much more.

Countering the Unnatural Biohacking of the Planet

We are just on the cusp of the Spring/Vernal Equinox, the true beginning of the new year, according to many. Aries, the first sign in the Zodiac, begins his season tomorrow. I’m now officially studying Astrology, so get ready for even more Astrology references!

The Bear in me is a little reticent to come out of her cave, but I plan to go with the flow and embrace what is coming, whatever that may be. Wishing the same for you.

Much Love,
Barbara