I call this flower blossom Kamala. It is not what it is called. It is named after an old friend who gave it to me. Long ago we both had little children only ages four and five. We would go to her house and talk about mothering, making, gardening, food, cooking, social justice, building, alternative schools, community building and friendship. She would come to my house too. We made things when she came over here. We would go on nature walks and explore the local area and find out of the way places to bring our children. We had so much fun. We had so many adventures.
One day Kamala brought me this plant. It is bright yellow just like her bright smile. I have always had it growing here for decades now. It fills with bright yellow pompoms every early summer time and blooms up until even now. A frost is coming tonight and most likely the world will look different in the morning. Life is like that. Things look one way one moment - different the next. One day Kamala had to go away. She went to live in India where her mother was from.
The tale I tell is filled with great stories. But, one day Kamala came back here and lived in the house she herself grew up in. She had lost here young daughter during that time she was away - Anika was her name. When we met up again our conversation was just as it had always been. Filled with so much curiosity and learning and love and pain. Kamala died a few years ago now. I had always thought we would grow to be old ladies together and sit and remember all of our stories in our lives. We would drink tea and just sit quietly - not really needing to say anything. We’d listen to the birds. We would marvel at the world. Our hearts would break together over the hurt that can consume us. I miss her very much. I still have my Kamala flowers.
House Garden
thread and thistle weave a story of being - sky blue dome is my roofed thinking - legacy channeled into foundation of soil - in our belief of small, insignificant - an entire life can be moved through or along - not held back by stationary movement - the questions formed are of a great magnitude - slightest breath flutters an oath or a path of hurricane.
thoughts found wily enough without brittle contemplations - doldrum might ask you if you have yet climbed Dolomites - travel inward toward essential nutrients - searching horizons anew brings renewed sense of lack - leanings into immediate surroundings arch over the bridge you forgot to cross.
sense of pace rises and falls again in the light of your eyes - weed ways grow to keep moisture in thought reveals - color ways are wefted stories that hold where imagination ables - the mythic fable is your life way - held in close proximity to shimmering beauty of - just beyond - presently a home garden is where you will natively grow a set of beeing wings - you don’t need saving - I will catch threads entangled.
~thebonelines
I traveled to a garden of a different kind this week. The Farmers Daughter in Rhode Island is a beautiful garden place and nursery. It is one of my favorite places to go for plants - inspiration - friendship - imagination - wonder. The plant keepers there are friends that have grown over time - just like all my plants from this wonderland.
Gymnocarpus physocarpa, or Hairy Balls is in the milkweed family. Of course the name makes me laugh inappropriately! This plant makes me smile whenever I see it. It is also stunning to see up close. Here is some information about Hairy Balls from The Garden Diaries if you want to try growing it.
This change in the season here in New England is generally quite short. It sneaks up on you and suddenly we have the woodstove fired up - yesterday while the rain drizzled down all day. When it reaches the high 40’s F here at night, a woodstove fire is needed to take the chill off of an old 1700’s house.
It seems that many people like to decorate during this autumn time - especially with gourds, dried grasses, obligatory mums, and of course the wide variety of pumpkins available. I tend to love the misshapen, wonky, bumpy, other than orange colored ones. Even if I don’t purchase many, I love to look at them and run my fingers over a few with especially fancy characters. I think one way to enjoy the season can be to go and have a look at garden nurseries - botanical gardens - parks - or a walk or drive around your area. It isn’t necessary to purchase something. Drinking in others celebratory decor can provide us with a fill of beauty - if we don’t have the money or do not want to purchase more. If you do decide to purchase decorations - it would be useful to buy from your local farmers and perhaps decor could be made from items in nature. It does not have to be costly. A lovely dried branch stuck in a bottle you have on hand is just perfect.
A cart full of sugar pumpkins is the perfect autumn image. When you walk down the pathway and are greeted by such an abundance of orange in this old fashioned vintage cart - I feel full, and joyful and there is a sort of contentment that the simple things in life are available to us. Just a simple note with the price for you to step right up and pick out an orange pumpkin treasure. It is just the right small size to sit on a window sill. Things do not always need to be big and fancy. Small and simple can be just as satisfying.
In a time of life when we might wallow in lack, worry, trepidation about the world - the earth - finding ways to celebrate in quiet ways is helpful. The big fancy celebrations are wonderful of course! If we find smaller ways to celebrate and ritualize our daily lives - imbuing magic into them - life can begin to take on a festive and meaningful practice as we walk through the obligations that we hold.
Begin to find ways that make life feel sacred and meaningful to you. Of course this is different for everyone. For me here at The Bone Lines - finding meaning is a daily practice. It is not always the same and what is needed has varied over the years. Seeking small and doable moments will begin to build up a Life Way of living a breathing magical story. Your life is a biography. Imagine living in what is most important to you. Don’t let too much time pass. If a tiny inspiration catches you on an inbreath - try to pay attention to what is calling to you. Creating a meaningful and magical life is where The Bone Lines tromps along. Cinch up your skirts or belt up your pants - being land pirates of our lives is so much fun!
Seasons of life change. Just as the earth is turning into the autumnal equinox at this time where I live in New England - I too am turning toward. I am turning toward renewal as the earth is getting ready to begin her restful time. The days are becoming visibly shorter, with darkness falling around 7:00 pm. I love this time of year and it is where I feel most at home. The brightness of color is turning toward autumn hues. Black-eyed Susan’s still shine their vibrant yellow throughout the gardens. The plants are growing more brittle and withered. Leaves tumble down off the trees when the winds blow.
As I walk around the gardens I am everyday reminded of the continuity and spiralic nature of my heart beating in rhythm with the land that I live with. My very good friends the rabbits have visited me throughout the summer. I see less of them now. I think about their preparations for winter time. A House Wren landed on my door stoop yesterday. We said hello as I thought of how the animals remind me of signs and symbols - important to carry in my thinking in my days. Get ready for the autumn. Rest and Renewal - yes, even in the autumn time.
I have been absent for a very long time from this Field Notes space. My mother crossed over to the other side two summers ago now. I have been on a long journey of finding new ways of living in this world. It has not been an easy road -as many of you will know this territory as well. Perhaps as time goes on in this space - I will find ways to share some of the grief journey with all of you. There is no other side. There is - different. The noticing of who you become after your mother leaves you is at times a heavy boulder carried around on some days. I have so many things I wish I could tell her now. Other days - I feel her helping me along. Helping me to notice all the beautiful parts of my life.
I think of her each day I walk down my doorway pathway here in this image. She always loved my little spiritual altar at the end of the rock walkway. She stopped to admire it whenever she came by. I am surprised in big and small ways when my mother shows up in my presence. It is startling - comforting - wonderful - grief-stricken. I share this here as a way of telling you - I have been absent from here swimming in the waters of grief time. I have felt muddled and not quite my self. In the image we can see that even with the bright sunlight - a shadow is hovering nearby. Looking into a toolbox of experience - we can learn to navigate these hard places.
It is my intention to return to my Field Notes space with renewed energy and love. I have a great many things to offer in the realm of Biography and Sacred Arts to you kind reader. The tarot cards here-The Witches’ Wisdom Tarot by Phyllis Curott with artwork by Danielle Barlow - represent a deep intention setting for The Bone Lines land of wonder, imagination, creativity, kindness and deep listening. I feel that each card represents a frame for Field Notes going forward, While this is a quieter and more inward time of year on this land as I mentioned above - as the inner pieces of knowing become more crystalized as we travel inward - the outward expression of these jewels can become an offering to one’s self - to the world. It is my gift to the world.
May the inner knowing and wisdom - held onto so tenderly - when we feel lost - come to the surface in mindful ways that offer up to you a life of tending and listening to find your way. I hope that sacred magic and wonderment will drip into your full rivers of life. If I can bring a new perspective - a helping offering in looking at your life with a lens of - Biography: The Artful Life - a deep gratitude will envelop me. Holding this vision for myself and for you brings me great joy!
Books I am reading. Everyone Knows Your Mother Is A Witch by Rivka Galchen. The story begin in 1618, in the German duchy of Wurttemberg. Plague is spreading. The Thirty Years’ War has commenced and fear an suspicion are in the air throughout the Holy Roman Empire. In the small town of Leonberg, Katharina Kepler is accused of being a witch.
Katharina is an illiterate widow, known by her neighbors for her herbal remedies and her successful children, including the oldest, Johannes, who is the Imperial Mathematician and the renowned author of the laws of planetary motion. It’s enough to make anyone jealous, Katharina has done herself no favors by being out and about and in everyone’s business. So when the deranged and insipid Ursula Reinbold accuses Katharina of offering her a bitter witch drink that has made her ill, Katharina is in trouble, facing the threat of financial ruin, torture, and even execution.
Drawing on real historical documents and infused with the intensity of imagination, sly humor, and intellectual fire for which Rivka Galchen is known, Everyone Knows Your Mother Is a Witch touchingly illuminates a society and a family undone by superstition, the state , and the mortal convulsions of history.