June 30, 2014 - Buttercups

Did you play the buttercup game when you were little?  I did.  You pick a buttercup and hold it underneath someone's chin and tell them to look up.  Then you say, "Let's see if you like butter!"  If yellow reflects from the flower and shines upon the skin, it means the person likes butter.  If it doesn't reflect, it means the person doesn't like butter.  It always reflected yellow on my chin and neck, which means that I like butter.  And lo and behold, it's true!  I do like butter!  Who knew such silly old wives tales and childhood games could be so true and accurate?

The roads and fields have been lined with billions and billions of buttercups for a couple of weeks now.  Everywhere I look in Maine, masses of shiny buttercups practically blind me.  It is such a happy and carefree time of year!  Life is always simpler when the buttercups are here.  Tastier, too.  It won't last long, but good butter never does.

Buttercups

June 29, 2014 - Me and My Shadow

Often I would see her, just out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, she would always be gone.  We played this game of tag for many years, she looking for me at times, and me for her at other times.  All through my youth, I chased her, but I might as well have been looking for a ghost, for she eluded me.  There were helpers along the way, guides and signposts.  They would speak of her but in a language I could not understand.  It frustrated and angered me until I finally gave up the search.  She was a spirit to me and nothing more, and now I scorned her very existence.

So life went on and I kept very busy.  Busy with the business of living.  There were jobs to be done and people to care for and deadlines to meet.  I became tired and anxious and brooding at times.  The more work I did, the more work there seemed to be yet undone.  I attacked it all with a vengeance, blazing a trail in front of me and behind me that anyone could see.  Except her.  In my heart of hearts, I had made it that way on purpose.  No darkness could enter, I told myself.

Then one day I could go no further.  The road came abruptly to a halt.  The ledge was strong and high, and there was nothing that could blast through it.  The trail behind me was ablaze and narrow and far too dangerous.  I stood there with no place to go.  If I went back, I would be burned alive.  If I went forward, I would be crushed.  Panic overtook me and then despair.

And that is when I saw her.  I had the sudden suspicion she had been there all along.  She reached her hand out to me and pulled me out of the prison I was in, and she showed me a secret pathway I hadn’t seen before.  It was a dangerous path filled with wild animals, but she easily slew every animal that came at us.  We ran and ran until we were exhausted and could go no further.  At long last I had found her, and she was nothing like I thought she would be.

From then on, we walked our path together.  She would defend me against the wild creatures, and I would shine a light for her when she plunged too far into the shadow.  Each time one of us threatened to go too far down a narrow path, the other would haul her back with strength and power.  Each of us knew for certain that we could rely on the other.  And this gave us peace, and it was enough.

June 28, 2014 - The Cat and the Squirrel

There once was a cat who spent the good part of every day watching a squirrel run to and fro about his business.  He was an industrious little squirrel with many stashes of nuts and seeds, to which he continually added.  All day long the little squirrel worked putting his food by because he knew the cold winter was coming.  In contrast, the cat sat silently and motionlessly in the shade for most of the day, closely watching the squirrel but always seeming as if she were asleep.  The squirrel knew the cat was watching him, and his opinion was that this was a particularly lazy cat, as most cats are, he surmised.

One day the cat surprised the squirrel by bowing deeply and complimenting him on his fine, shiny coat.  The squirrel was suspicious but flattered and told the cat it was from eating juicy seeds.  And the cat remarked about what a good housekeeper the squirrel was.  This, of course, the squirrel knew was true, but again he was flattered and thanked the cat, saying he was a natural at organization.  Next, the cat admired how fast the squirrel ran about his business.  For a third time, the squirrel was flattered by the cat’s honesty.  He told the cat that he was one of the fastest creatures of the woods, and the cat readily nodded her head.  He then told the cat he was extremely clever as well and would never fall prey to compliments, to which the cat agreed completely and looked for a good place to nap.

Before sleeping, she groomed herself and remarked absentmindedly to no one in particular how thick and beautiful and soft her fur was, certainly the finest in the land.  She mentioned how nice and tidy her home was with everything in its place and just perfect for her beautiful fur coat.  Then she smiled as she settled down, mentioning how lightning-quick her reflexes were and that no creature could match them.  And finally she said she was surely the smartest creature in the woods.  With that, she fell asleep.

The squirrel was completely nonplussed and somehow felt slightly insulted.  He decided that all the kind compliments the cat had given earlier were just lies, and this made him angry because he knew he deserved those compliments and more.  He jumped down from the tree and pointed out a particularly large cache of nuts and seeds, and the cat sleepily nodded and agreed it was the nicest she had ever seen.  He came closer to be in a sunbeam so the cat could see how shiny his coat was, and the cat had to agree it was more beautiful than she had at first supposed.  As she closed her eyes to nap, the squirrel came closer still and told the cat he was too clever to play anymore games, and the cat quite agreed that the game was lost.

As the squirrel turned to go, the cat pounced on him quick as lightning!  In the blink of an eye she had him, and in the blink of another eye she had eaten him.  “Not so quick, after all,” she thought to herself, “but he did have a beautiful coat.”

Moral:  Compliments and insults are two sides of the same coin.

June 27, 2014 - Lobster Traps

Hundreds of lobster traps line the shore, waiting to be used.  This is one of the traditional ways to make a living here in Maine, but those traditions are dwindling.  I fear that modern times are slowly encroaching up here in the north.  Even these traps are modern.  I have an old-timer friend here who still makes them from wood the old way and weaves the netting himself.  He is an artist.  I told him I was impressed with his ability and that he should pass his knowledge and skills on to a young person.  He looked at me askance and said he wanted the young people to "do better" for themselves.

The thing is, I don't believe they could do finer for themselves than to learn the old traditional crafts.  If this keeps up, I may have to do a dimensional shift here in Maine so that two "Maines" exist simultaneously, one layered over another.  One existing in secret, the other in ignorance.  Anything is possible.

Lobster traps

June 26, 2014 - Water Lily Fairies

Water fairies are different from air, earth, and fire fairies.  Living in a secret, fluid, constantly flowing environment has allowed them to develop many snares for humans.  You see, they do not like us to enter their realm.  Unlike the other fairies who have developed a dimensional shift within the other realms (earth, air, and fire) so that two “levels” can occupy the same place and the fairies can thereby stay hidden, the water fairies actually dwell within that realm alone without a dimensional shift.  When a human enters their realm, it is as if a stranger had walked into your parlor in the evening and sat down unwelcome and unbidden.  Foolish humans.

There was a story going around a century or so ago, if I recall, of a rather rude man who trampled unwelcome into a lily pond, intent on stealing all the lilies.  His feet were cut by sharp and rough stones (or so he thought) as he entered the pond, but he continued on.  He would tend them later, he told himself.  The leeches were the next defense.  (You didn’t really think they were “leeches,” did you?)  Hundreds attached to his skin, though he remained unaware while he was in the water.  He began to feel strange, though, as he collected the lilies.  The water moccasins were next (not really snakes, you know).  They wound around his arms and legs, biting and tearing at his skin.  He might have torn them off, but his hands and arms were loaded with the lilies he had stolen and he refused to let them go.

At last he made it to the shore, disoriented and confused, bleeding and panting.  He set down his lilies and decided to rest just for a bit, just for a bit.  But his vision was so blurred and his mind so confused.  He did not trust the image of the fairy woman who slowly rose from the pond and came toward him, a strange smile on her face.  He thought he must be dreaming and closed his eyes.  And those eyes never did open again.  The water creatures and the water plants took what they needed to grow from the fertile ground he had created.  Then all was smooth and clean and quiet again, the lilies restored and more vibrant than ever.  Pink and lush and plump, they were.  Silently, they all lounged, content for now.  They knew another would eventually come.

June 25, 2014 - Climbing Nightshade

Climbing nightshade, also known as bittersweet, is a member of the Solanaceae family and grows wild here in Maine.  Its berries are not quite as poisonous as deadly nightshade, but they can still poison you and cause problems.  It's a pretty plant, though.  The bright purple flowers with yellow anthers look like shooting stars.  I've turned this bunch upward so you can see the flowers, but they usually point downward.  The stalks and stems of the flower clusters are also purple.  Soon they will sport bright red, glossy berries with a strange smell I don't really care for.  Once you smell it, you'll never forget it.  When I was little, I played all sorts of games with the berries, and I always had that strange berry smell about me.  Of course, I knew they were poisonous, and it's a miracle I didn't eat them just to spite those who warned me against them.

The berries and roots have been used medicinally for a couple of thousand years, at least, as an ointment or poultice for various skin ailments, such as eczema and especially cancer.  The flowers contain solasodine, which is useful against skin cancer lesions, and the roots contain beta-solamarine, another substance useful for the same purpose.  In magical folklore, people would hang a sprig of these berries in a secret place in the house as a protection charm and also to help heal them of bitter memories.  Shepherds would weave a necklace of the flower clusters and place it around their animals' necks as protection against the "evil eye."

Of course, I can tell that the fairies are always busy around the nightshade plants (which also include tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, and tobacco).  This is because of the narcotic properties that they all contain in varying degrees.  Fairies love to use these berries to confuse humans and sometimes bring them to their own land, never to be seen again by their friends and family, which is why all the old fables always warn you never to eat anything a fairy gives you.  There's a certain energy coming off the climbing nightshade, and once you are familiar with it, it's unmistakable.  That, and the strange smell.  I never will forget it.

Climbing nightshade, also known as bittersweet.

NOTE:  Do not ever confuse climbing nightshade with deadly nightshade.  The deadly nightshade flowers are a darker, huskier purple in color and don't seem to open as much as the climbing nightshade flowers do.  Also, the berries are shiny black.  Eating a handful of climbing nightshade berries might cause dizziness, hallucinations, vomiting, and diarrhea for a few days (in rare cases, death).  But eating just two deadly nightshade berries can easily put you in an early grave.  Tread softly.

(Yes, I have to put a disclaimer in.  This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to diagnose, treat, or cure any ailment.  If you need medical advice, seek a physician.)

June 24, 2014 - Dandelion Wishes

It’s no surprise that the dandelion is the flower of wishes, and if you wish on it correctly, your wish will come true.  Wishes are strange, aren’t they?  Some are good and some are bad.  Many crop up in our minds or our hearts and we don’t even know it, which is why we must be careful what we wish for, you see.  Be certain of the things you want, and know your own heart.  All it takes is the faintest breeze and a tiny wish escapes, and then another and another and another.  The wishes, like the flower seeds, take off in millions of directions, floating upon the air and sometimes traveling for many miles.  They land without anyone being the wiser, and there they find fertile soil and grow.  Be assured that they will always grow, whether you know that you had the wish or not.

So guard your wishes like precious gems.  Gently pull up the dandelion and close your eyes.  Make your wish, and if it comes from the heart, so much the better.  Then blow your breath of life on the dandelion, turning it every which way and blowing until there are no seeds left.  Do not leave even one.  Watch the seeds as they fly off in the air, but then turn around quickly as you must not watch them land.  These are the rules of the dandelion wish, and who am I to disobey them?  Rest assured, my love, that they will always grow.

Dandelion wish seeds.

June 23, 2014 - Red Clover Cures

Not much to look at, is it?  In fact, it’s rather plain and easy to miss.  I’ll bet you walk by it every day and don’t even realize it.  I’m talking about red clover, of course, that pinkish/purplish little clover flower dotting the landscape right now.  If you make your own medicines and teas, this is the time of year to gather red clover.  While it’s tempting to gather it early in the morning when it’s cooler outside, you must wait until noon or later.  The fairies leave a lot of dew behind at their nightly parties, and you want to make sure that it’s all burned off by the sun or you could have a problem with mold, especially if you want to make an oil.

And what can you make with red clover (Trifolium pratense)? Well, for starters, you could make a tea from the blossoms.  They contain vitamins, micro and macro minerals, and protein.  But what many people take red clover for is its phytosterol content.  It contains four phytoestrogens as opposed to the much-touted soy, which contains only one.  These phytosterols are hormone-like substances that can be found in many plants, with red clover being one of the leaders, and the substances in red clover are anti-cancer in nature (as opposed to soy).  To make an herbal infusion (tea), put one ounce of dried blossoms in a quart jar and fill with boiling water.  Cover and let steep four to eight hours, then strain and drink.  You can keep it refrigerated for a day or two.

Red clover blossoms

Red clover is wonderful for many skin ailments, including being helpful with various skin cancers.  It is used for sores, burns, eczema, psoriasis, etc.  In this case, it is usually used as an infused oil or as an herbal salve.  To make an infused oil, fill a jar with freshly picked but dry (pick after noontime) blossoms.  Pour a good olive oil over them, using a toothpick to make sure the oil permeates all the blossoms.  Fill to the top and cap.  Check the next day to make sure it’s completely filled as the fairies like to play games with liquid levels.  Then leave this in a cool area for six weeks.  Make sure you put it on a towel as the jar will ooze some, and if you don’t have a towel under it, it may ruin the surface it sits on.  The jar may smell a bit “cheesy” as it infuses, and that’s perfectly normal.  When done, strain, pour into a fresh clean bottle, label, and store.

To make a salve, use one cup of herb-infused oil and two ounces of natural beeswax.  Heat together until the wax melts (only takes a minute or two), and then pour into containers.  It will thicken up as soon as it cools.  Label and store.  You can use a combination of oils here, depending on what you want to make, and you can add essential oils for fragrance as well.

(Yes, I have to put a disclaimer in.  This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to diagnose, treat, or cure any ailment.  If you need medical advice, seek a physician.)

June 22, 2014 - Little Pansy

LITTLE PANSY

Now that all the other garden flowers drip their colors on the landscape

And the exotic birds preen and dart about with stunning feathers

And the humming insects hover with steely wings and sweet pollen,

Are you still mine?

Now that the air is perfumed with hypnotic fragrances

And the wind caresses your face and hair with scented kisses

And the sound of chimes lulls you into a dreamer’s world,

Are you still mine?

Now that the summer sun warms your skin with a soft embrace

And the light shimmers between the leaves and tickles your eyes

And the greenery swells and promises soft and dewy escape,

Are you still mine?

Little pansy, sweetest heart of my heart

There is none so bright, so stunning, so sweet or perfumed,

So soft or kind or dewy as you.

You were the first to bring back the love and adorn the land.

You were the first to fulfill the promise of life renewed.

I will always be yours.

Pretty little pansy

June 21, 2014 - Revolutionary War Hero

Maine didn't become a state until 1820, but its history goes way back before that.  The coast of Maine was first explored by Europeans under the Portuguese explorer Estêvão Gomes in service to the Spanish empire in 1525.  The first settlers came to St. Croix Island in 1604.  Then between 1607 and 1608 the Popham Colony was briefly settled.  I have visited the archaeological remains of this colony, and I am always humbled by the strength and hardship these people had to go through in the frigid wilds of Maine.  They didn't last more than a year.  Then about five years later, a French trading post was established in 1613, and the Plymouth Colony was established on the shores of Cape Cod Bay in 1620.  Cape Cod Bay is the southern most extremity of the Gulf of Maine, and until 1820, Maine was a "territory" of Massachusetts.  (And to this day the two states still argue.)

And here lies Colonel James Hunter.  He was the first white man born in Topsham, Maine.  He helped to build Fort Halifax in 1754 and was an officer in the Revolutionary War.  He died in 1809 at the age of 74.  Here in Maine, we decorate all of our veterans' graves, and that includes Revolutionary War heroes (1775-1783).  Did he ever think that I would be visiting his grave and would make a record of it?  Highly unlikely.  The thing I think about most when I see these graves is what kind of life these people led.  To be sure, it was difficult, more difficult than we in the "modern age" could ever imagine.  But I think it was more genuine as well.  Life and death were all too real back then.  People worked hard, but they worked at the business of living.  Nowadays, too many people push pencils and run around in aimless circles.  What would our ancestors think of us if they could see us now?

The Revolutionary War grave of Colonel James Hunter.

Of course, the Red Paint People were in Maine from 3,000 to 1,000 B.C.E.  They were given this name because of their elaborate burials that used red ochre.  After them came the Susquehanna people, who were hunter-gathering communities, and they were the first to use pottery.  By the time the Europeans came, Maine was inhabited by the Wabanaki people, including the Abenaki, Passamaquoddy, and Penobscots.  What might they have said to the "young upstarts" from Europe--those very same people who seem so "ancient" to me?  Ah, time is a fickle mistress who keeps playing tricks on me.

June 20, 2014 - The Blood-Red Rhododendron

Around these parts they still tell the story of the tiny fairy child who wanted to go and dwell with humans.  Because she was so ugly, her mean fairy parents were only too happy to let her go.  So they sent her to a village in the hope that an ugly human couple would adopt the ugly fairy child.  In her little pack they placed a large bottle of fairy wine, or so they told her, to share with each human in the village as a gift.  Now this bottle really contained a secret fairy draught which, once consumed, turned the drinker into whatever plant they last saw.  In this way, the fairies hoped to rid themselves of the villagers and steal all their wealth.

So off she went to the village and sat down in the town square, hoping for the right couple to come by and adopt her.  But she was so tiny and so plain that no one paid any attention to her at all.  There she sat for most of the day, and when the sun was low on the horizon, she trudged away toward the woods, very sad and dejected.  “Perhaps I am too ugly even for them,” she thought.  And that was saying something.

As she was leaving the village, she noticed it was completely surrounded by beautiful white rhododendrons in full bloom.  In those days white rhododendrons were the only kind that grew.  She thought of how beautiful they were and wished terribly she could be as beautiful as they were.  “I will leave them a part of me,” she thought.  So she pricked her finger with a thorn and spilled one tiny drop of fairy blood on each rhododendron.  Well, there were hundreds and hundreds of rhododendrons, and by the time she finished she was exhausted and sick.  So she sat down and decided she would drink the bottle of wine, and then she hoped she would drift off to the next world.

The blood-red rhododendron.

Meanwhile, the band of evil fairies decided they would attack the village in the morning since they figured that most of the ugly humans would be turned into plants anyhow.  They would make their raid and steal any valuables the humans had.  But they had quite a surprise waiting for them when they got there, for surrounding the village were huge, brilliant red rhododendrons with hundreds and hundreds of humans exclaiming about them.  When the humans saw the fairies, they set upon them with pitchforks and fire because this was not the first time they had encounters with this unsavory band of raiding fairies, and they beat the fairies far back into the woods.

The humans were in awe and a bit afraid of the beautiful blood-red rhododendrons.  At first they thought they would cut them down now that the fairies were gone, but each time they gazed at the deep red color, a fire of determination grew in their hearts.  They finally decided that it was a good fire and a brave fire and a protective fire, so they allowed the rhododendrons to stay put.  They had a big party with music and dancing and much wine all around the rhododendrons, which they now believed were magically placed there as the protectors of their village, and they continued this tradition every year when the rhododendrons were in bloom.

And somewhere in some way an ugly little fairy child was not so ugly or sad anymore.  She was as beautiful as she had always wanted to be, and she was living among the peculiar but funny humans as she had always wanted to do.  The humans, in turn, believed their strange unusual red rhododendrons to be the finest in the land, and so they were.

June 19, 2014 - Reishi/Lingzhi Mushroom

The Reishi/Lingzhi mushroom is a miraculous fungus that grows wild around here.  It has a long history (over 2,000 years) in Asia of promoting health and longevity.  In the U.S. it is used as an anti-cancer medicine, especially anti-metastasis, and it shows real promise against this disease.  Reishi/Lingzhi is currently in high demand as it takes many months for the fruiting bodies to grow.  Therefore, I think I will keep my patch a secret.

Of course, it’s well known around these parts that fairies have been using these mushrooms for a very long time, hence their longevity.  They know how to use all the secret things of the woods, and they have no need for the modern pharmacopeia.  I already make many of my own simple medicines and cures, and I get the feeling they like that because they know I respect natural cures.  If there’s anything a fairy hates, it’s a “modern medicine man” (you can read between the lines there) turning up his nose at their “primitive” treatments.  When a rapport has been firmly established, I will begin studying their medicines and tonics.  Until that time, I have no choice but to rely on “modern” understanding of such mushrooms/herbs and my own instinct.  My own instinct hasn’t served me wrong yet, so I shall always turn there first.

Reishi/Lingzhi mushroom

June 18, 2014 - The Path

What path are you on, my friends?  For we are all on a path, all of us, whether we realize it or not.  There are wide paths with many people to meet along the way.  There are narrow paths with definite signs and symbols.  There are simple and easy paths, treacherous and difficult paths, high paths and low.  But everywhere you look, there are paths.  In fact, it is impossible to not be on a path.  Some people instinctively know this; most people have no idea.  Day in and day out, they trudge through their lives, not knowing that they are even on a path.  But they are.  So what is your path like?  And did you know that you can choose your path and you can change your path and it is never too late?  You are not destined to walk a path you do not wish to walk, although many people will do so because they do not even know they have a choice.

Close your eyes for a moment because sometimes the eyes can trick us, and there is a reason they call sparkly rocks fool's gold.  Close your eyes and breathe.  How does your path smell?  Is it fresh and earthy?  Do you feel a calmness when you breathe deeply?  What do you hear?  Can you hear the wind in the trees?  What kind of animals can you hear around you?  Now open your eyes.  Does everything still look the same, and do you like what you see?  And now touch small things on your path.  Do they respond?  And taste small things on your path.  Do they bring peace and joy to your body?

As for me, I will take the path into the woods.  It is not an easy path, but everything I need is there.  Food can be found if you know where to look.  And water too.  There is plenty of material for shelter, although it is raw and I must work hard to shape it.  There is beauty and the art of nature.  There is peace and time to think.  There are companions, seen and unseen, guides who point the way.  There is magic.  Yes, much magic.  I am off to the woods.  I will leave a flickering light for you to follow.  Trust yourself.

The path into the woods, where magic abounds.

June 17, 2014 - Plantain

Weed?  No, I don't think so.  This is plantain (Plantago majus) and it grows just about everywhere.  People try to kill it, put down herbicides to curb its growth.  They pull it out of the soil roots and all and throw it out.  Oh, what a tragedy!  I love when this herb appears beneath my feet everywhere I go because I know that a veritable medicine chest is right within reach.  If you have never used plantain before, here are a few things it can do.  For bee or wasp stings, pull up a leaf or two and quickly chew it to a lumpy paste.  Put the paste on the sting and watch the redness and the swelling disappear.  If you have an eczema rash, use plantain oil (the leaves soaked for six weeks in olive oil and then strained).  It will bring prompt relief to itchiness.  The oil is great for diaper rash too, and you can use it on "hot spots" on your animals as well.  It's great for scratches and bruises, and some people say it even helps with the pain of sprains.  In fact, anytime you have any skin problem whatsoever--from a mosquito bite to a small wound--look down at your feet and you'll almost certainly find the medicine you need!  I prefer the fresh leaf, but do be sure to make some oil every year so you have it in the winter as well.

A variety of plantain seeds known as Plantago psyllium is used as a fiber supplement and laxative, only you probably know it as Metamucil.  That's right.  Expensive psyllium seed husks you see in the stores are none other than plain old plantain seeds.  This particular variety grows in South America, but I know many people who use the seeds of the plain old "weed" variety plantain that we have around here in the same way.  So the next time you decide to get rid of that weed, think twice!  You might be throwing out something you need!

Plantain, the "weed" (Plantago majus).

(Yes, I have to put a disclaimer in.  This article is for informational purposes only and is not meant to diagnose, treat, or cure any ailment.  If you need medical advice, seek a physician.)

Sunset - June 16, 2014

The season of beautiful sunsets has begun.

June 16, 2014 - Bold Ents

I must say that the Ents around here are getting downright bold.  Now I told you of the other one who sometimes pelts me with acorns or pine cones, but this one -- this one! -- called me "yellow."  She said I was too much of a coward to reveal to the rest of the world just what's going on here in the deep woods of Maine.  She said no one would ever believe me.  She said fairies would capture me before I had a chance to reveal the truth.  It was then that I realized she was goading me.  You see, the fairies and the Ents are not always very friendly.  The Ents think the fairies are very rude young upstarts who never want to wait their turn in line.  The fairies think the Ents are boorish and stubborn.  Each has their own way of irking the other.  For example, the Ents will send out roots everywhere to destroy underground fairy strongholds when the fairies piss them off.  The fairies will cast spells on the Ents causing them to grow the wrong leaves, i.e., oak Ents will grow maple leaves, maple Ents will grow chestnut leaves, etc.  It's a mess, I tell you, and it's exasperating for any human who has to listen to the constant bickering.

Anyhow, I digress.  I turned to that Ent and, as serenely as possible, I asked her if she'd ever had the pleasure of sitting at a campfire at night that was perfumed with birch bark.  That shut her up right quick.  Imagine the nerve of trying to embroil me in a fight with the fairies!  I have enough problems with them as it is without unwittingly taking the side of the Ents.  So let this be a warning to the reader.  Stand firm when you are dealing with Ents, and never go out on a limb for them.

June 15, 2014 - Lazy Days

What a lazy day.  I couldn't muster up the gumption even to go fairy hunting, it was that lazy of a day.  And anyone who knows me knows that's saying something.  For once, it was okay to just be lazy.  It occurs to me that humans never allow themselves to do that.  Oh, they take "time off," but they never just do nothing.  They do "extra" work.  Or they force a busy schedule of "fun" onto themselves and everyone around them.  Or they become lazy but cringe with incredible guilt and "pay for it" later.  Or they become lazy and then hate themselves for it.  Animals are different from us.  They take every opportunity to be as lazy as possible, and they absolutely love it.  There's no guilt, no "I could or I should," no paying for it later.  When they have the opportunity to lie in the sun or lounge under a shade tree, they gratefully take it.  Yes, there are times when they have to hunt or run or search for food or water, and when they have to do these things, they do them uncomplainingly.  They also relax uncomplainingly.  We could take a lesson from them.  Enjoy this lazy view of Days Cove in Damariscotta, Maine, one of my favorite places.

June 14, 2014 - Beach Rose

The Maine beach rose, called "Rugosa," is an invasive species by which we are proud to be invaded.  They're not much to look at, but the fragrance is incomparable to any other rose, so intense and wonderful it is.  They are opening up now everywhere I look, and they don't mind the saltwater or salt air at all.  In fact, they thrive on it.  The air is completely and dramatically perfumed with rose, and it lulls the senses and plays tricks on the mind.  Once Rugosa has taken hold, it will not leave the premises.  And that is a good thing.

"Close your eyes!" the rose commanded me.  I did as I was told since I was in an adventurous mood anyhow.  That, and why take chances with magical creatures?  And then it hit me full force.  The scent of rose was so powerful, I was almost knocked backward, but I was able to keep my eyes closed.  I drifted into a delicate pink envelope and laid my head down on the softest of feather beds.  A blanket of the purest Maine alpaca fur draped lazily over me.  Such luxury!  I knew in that moment life was truly good.

"The eyes can lie," she said, "and they are easily fooled.  Do not fall victim to their prejudice.  It is the other senses that will lead you to the truth."  She was right.  The quest continues.

June 13, 2014 - The Sky Has Opened

Which tiny island off the coast of Maine is this?  Does it matter?  If it's not this one, it's that.  On a day like this, they all look the same anyhow.  The sky has opened up wide, and a torrential downpour is underway.  When I was young, I was told the angels were crying.  If there were thunder and lightning, I was told they were bowling.  But now I know the real truth.  The next time you cry, watch yourself in the mirror.  Watch your eyes well up with tears, and watch them as they splash down your face.  The sky of your mind has opened, and what was hiding within can no longer be contained.  It must come forth to release the pressure, and when the pressure is finally released, the mind plants invisible seeds on your cheeks.  Then your tears water the seeds, and the seeds grow into their own empires.  How careful we must be about the seeds we plant!  But plant them we must, whether good or bad.  And so, water them we must, whether we want to or not.

It is the same for the Earth.  The sky has opened, and millions of raindrops fall on an uncountable number of seeds that have exploded from the soul of the Earth.  Each seed will sprout and grow from the rain, and each will become its own being, some on the physical plane and some on the spiritual.  Unlike us, though, the Earth knows exactly what to plant and what is needed where and when.  It is fortunate for us, then, on these days of rain for we know that new beginnings are just around the bend.  Even so, the tracks of the Earth's tears can be difficult to follow.

June 12, 2014 - Sociable Tree

I was hiking up a small mountain and was feeling rather tired when I heard a deep yet soft voice say, "Hello."  I turned around and saw nothing at first, until I used my other vision and that's when I saw this tree.  Just at the moment when I was wishing for a seat, don't you know that this extremely large branch dipped low to the ground.  "You look tired," he said, "Why not have a seat?"  The branch part that was closest to the trunk was just at about hip level and made a perfect seat.  When I sat in it, the farther end of the branch popped up ever so slightly to slide me down and snuggle me in closer to the trunk.  I thought it rather forward behavior of the tree, but I didn't want to be rude in case this was normal interaction for trees in this neck of the woods.  Trees in my own woods are much more reserved.  And after all, I really was tired and needed to sit.

So I sat and drank some water from my canteen.  Rather belatedly, I poured a bit at the base of the tree.  "Mmmm, thank you," he said.  We sat in silence for a long time as I caught my breath and then lazily swung my legs back and forth.  I told him that I thought his part of the forest was very nice, and I do believe I felt a bit of a shiver in response.  He never spoke another word, but it was time for me to leave anyhow.  I murmured a goodbye, put one arm around the trunk as I slid down, patted him, and then walked away.  As I rounded the bend just past the tree, I saw two squirrels up on a large rock.  I got the distinct impression that they were pointing at me as I passed them, and I could have sworn I heard one call me a "tree hugger."  Squirrels are like that, though.  Quite odd little creatures, really.

June 11, 2014 - The Pink Lily Pond

The pink lilies are starting to appear on the pink lily pond.  Soon the whole surface will be covered with spectacular pink lilies, which will be so thick that you might not even see the pond itself.  Until you fell in, that is, and don't say I didn't warn you.  The pink lily pond always flowers before the white lily pond, and it's smaller in size than the white lily pond as well.  I will post a picture of the latter when it begins to bloom.  The two ponds are not far from one another, but they are distinctly different.  The pink lily pond lounges in the shade and is lush and green and female.  The while lily pond braves the brilliant sunshine and is distinctly tougher and male.  Yes, it's true, I believe the ponds have their own personalities, but then, I believe everything around me is a sentient being and I tend to personify the entire world.  It should come as no surprise, then, that the fairies at each pond are very different, and if I were you, I would avoid the white lily pond at night when the will-o'-the-wisp is always nearby.  Now that I think about it, it's not far from the haunted apple tree I wrote about last March.  Hmmm . . . I am seeing a connection here and am off to investigate.  Don't pick the lilies while I'm gone!

June 10, 2014 - Colorful Mallards

Did you ever wonder what it must have been like to live a few hundred years ago?  I always wonder.  One of the things I think about a lot is how different colors would have looked back then.  These days our eyes are bombarded with brilliant and fluorescent colors that practically scream at us.  There are colors with hues so vivid, it almost hurts the eye to look at them, and we get so used to seeing brilliant color everywhere we look:  magazines, television, computer, etc.  But what if your eyes had never beheld these modern colors?  What if the only colors your eyes had ever seen were the natural colors of the world around you?  How might this change what you see and the way in which you appreciate it?

Consider this humble mallard.  The brilliant and iridescent green on his neck is the natural color for this drake during breeding season.  It gleams and shines in the sunlight and is offset and made even more brilliant by the white stripe beneath it.  And what about the iridescent purple/blue speculum feathers, which appear even more brilliant in flight?  You can see just a bit of this color along his side as he floats on the pond.  Imagine laying your eyes upon these colors and wanting to surround yourself with them in beautiful clothing.  There would be no stores where you could get them, no latest trends, no market research on the hottest colors of the season.  There would be just the mallard and the different plants and insects in nature from which you would attempt to duplicate the color in a dye . . . in a dye you put into a handmade cloth.  Oh, how the world has changed, and perhaps not for the better.

Sunset - June 9, 2014

Sunset.  Makes me dreamy.

June 9, 2014 - Rude Frogs

I almost missed this little guy.  Although he was small, he had a voice like Pavarotti.  Unmistakable.  There were two ponds, you see.  He was in one, and I had just come from the other, which was only a few yards away.  He asked me rather abruptly and loudly (one might say rudely) whether there were any good flies in the other pond.  I told him there were some but that he was probably better off where he was as his pond was shadier and had all manner of juicy insects.  In a manner of speaking, that is.  And that was when he accused me of trying to keep all the good flies for my own.  I defended myself, of course, but the more I defended, the louder he became until he was croaking at a ferocious rate.  But what do you expect from pond frogs of the decidedly unroyal kind?  They are certainly not known for their good manners, and I've a good mind to go back to that pond with some sticky fly tape and show him who's boss.  You can't allow frogs to push you around, after all, or you'll never hear the end of it from the toads.

June 8, 2014 - Upturned Tree

Well, as you can see, I caught the fairies red-handed!  I heard them scuffling around a bit, but they managed to stay just ahead of me.  A bit of sparkle was all I saw, a tinkle of a bell was all I heard, but it was enough to know that the fairies were oot and aboot.  I pursued them hotly, but as I said, they were able to stay just ahead of me, partly because they're quick but also because they put a glamour on my shoes that made them feel very sticky on the bottom.  In any event, I finally came to this upturned tree.  They had flung it backward and jumped down into one of their compounds.  I'm sure they tried to pull it back upright, but as you can see, a large rock got stuck in the roots on the left side.  I think it was too heavy for the last few fairies to pull down, and so they had no choice but to leave the tree upright and hightail it out of there.  Of course, I wasn't foolish enough to go down after them as I know they would have tripped me and stuffed wet onions down my socks.  Regardless--this is a fabulous find, and I must come up with some way to mark it before they're able to pull the tree back down.  Oh, fairies, you can run but you can't hide forever!

June 7, 2014 - The Elusive Lady Slipper

I suppose I ought to tell you the tale of how the lady slipper flower came to be.  There once was an old cobbler and his wife who had tried to have a baby for a very long time, but luck never seemed to shine on them.  Finally, when the woman was much older and thought beyond childbearing, she learned she would have a child.  She and her husband were beside themselves with happiness.  Now this all took place in a part of the world where people were exceedingly poor, but even so this man and woman were always known for their kindness and generosity toward others.  Not only did they freely give to their neighbors, but the woman always made sure that fresh milk was left out for the fairies, even if she and her husband had to do without.

And so it came about that she had the child, and never were parents more delighted.  But the baby girl soon fell very ill, and there was nothing the midwife could do.  On an evening that looked like it might be her last, she was kissed by her mother and father and placed in her cradle.  When her father left the room, her mother took the pair of old iron scissors that had been placed beneath the cradle and buried them deep within a drawer.  She never told her husband, for she knew how angry he would be.  Sure enough, during the night, the fairies came and took the child and left a changeling in her place.  Back in their world, they had magic medicines that could cure the human child, but because they loved the woman so much for her kindness and could not bear to see her sorrow, they left her one of their own children in her child's place.  This, of course, the woman knew and it is why she removed the scissors in the first place, for fairies will not leave a changeling where iron scissors have been left in the open.

In the morning, the tiny fairy baby delighted her parents with her health, and though the man thought her appearance to be a bit odd, he never said a word to his wife for she seemed so happy.  The child grew quickly and was the love of her parents' life, but oddly enough, she would never leave the cottage where they lived.  One day her father insisted, but when he brought her outdoors and set her in the grass, she let out a terrible howl and ran back into the house.  Upon examination, burns were found all over her tiny feet.  Her father was terribly distressed and apologized profusely, and she kissed him so sweetly that he determined he would make special shoes that would fit her tiny little feet so that she could run in the grass without getting any burns.  So he set to work and made beautiful pink little slippers for her, which she wore everywhere with joy and pride, and now her days were filled with the wonder and beauty of the outdoors.  Her father's eyes filled with tears as he watched her playing in the fields.

But time marched on as time will do, and soon her parents were very old.  Because she was a fairy, she was still just a young child, and this worried the other villagers until they shunned the man and woman, afraid of the fairy changeling.  One night, the men all came with pitchforks to drive the old couple and the fairy away.  They came so quickly upon the house that the man and woman and their fairy child had no time to think but had to flee immediately.  They left without the changeling's slippers and fled into the forest while the villagers burned their house down.  Soon the changeling could go no further due to severe burns on her feet.  She kissed the tears from the faces of her loving parents and disappeared into a wisp of smoke, never to be seen again.

Her parents, old though they were, built a tiny cottage in the forest away from the cruel villagers, and there they stayed for the remainder of their days.  Shortly before the woman died, she took an old pair of iron scissors and buried them at the base of a pine tree.  She never told her husband of this.  In the Spring, lo and behold, little pink flowers grew and spread through the forest, favoring only pine trees.  Each flower looked like a tiny little slipper, and her father cried with joy and longing when he saw them.  After he died and the years passed, the pink slipper flowers grew and spread everywhere, always under pine trees.  To this day, you will find them under pines, although now they are almost as elusive as fairies themselves.  If you are lucky enough to find them, you may still hear the fairy child laughing and delighting in the forest.

(The lady slipper flower is a protected flower in many areas.  Once common, it is now rare due to loss of habitat.)

June 6, 2014 - Bridge To The Multiverse

Which way will you take the bridge?  Will you hop from the land and disappear into the tree?  Will you come from the tree world and enter the land?  Here is yet another example of a fairy bridge, and this one is particularly bold.  Some of the others I have shown you could possibly be passed off as "normal" bridges even though they traversed nothing and were clearly unnecessary.  But this bridge, this bridge is a typical example of the exasperation and yet wonderment one feels when sharing the land with fairies.  On the left the bridge may look as though it stops directly at the tree, but what is the point of that?  On the right the bridge hovers in a patch of sparkling unidentified vegetation but does not touch the ground, and what is the point of that?  In either case, it makes no sense to humans who see no point whatsoever, but it makes perfect sense to the denizens of Fairy.  They come and go as they please and throw bridges out before me to create a whirlwind of temptation.  If I were to cross the bridge in either direction, it is highly likely I would never be seen again, at least not in this century.  People disappear all the time.  Someday I will cross the bridge, but today is not that day.

June 5, 2014 - Drink Raw Milk

There once was an old witch who lived up in the northern woods of Maine.  She had moved farther and farther north because people have become afraid of witches these last several hundred years, and she felt it was best to stay out of their way.  But it happened that she had moved so far north that she was too isolated to get the things she needed for daily life, and this did not suit her well at all.  So she contrived a disguise one day, and anyone who lives here can tell you it was pretty clever.  Simply put, she would transfigure herself into a cow and wander into a town to get the things she needed.  No one pays much attention to a cow, after all, and this worked well for her for many years.

One day she wandered into a town to pick up some flour to make her pies and bread.  A greedy farmer on the edge of town saw her and decided he would steal her add her to his herd.  So he poked and prodded and whipped her until she ran into the corral with his other cows.  Once she was secure within, he laughed and went indoors for supper.  The old witch was very sad, but when she conferred with the other cows and learned of the farmer’s mistreatment of them all, she became furious.  That night she cast a spell on the whole herd so that all the milk would be as sour as vinegar.  When people came to buy their milk the next morning, they all returned it shortly thereafter because it was so horrible!  That day the farmer made no money at all.  The following day, the same thing happened, and then the day after that and the day after that still.

The farmer finally realized that it had all begun after he brought the new cow into the herd, so he went out to get her and slaughter her.  When he arrived, she transfigured herself back into an old woman and ran at him with eyes ablaze.  He fell to his knees and begged her forgiveness, but she would hear none of it.  Right on the spot, she put a curse on him saying that if ever he mistreated his cows again, the milk would be sour as vinegar but that if he treated his cows well, the milk would flow and be sweet as honey.  Then she left and took what little money he had in his pocket so she could go and buy her flour.

Of course, the farmer did not believe her and he mistreated his cows again for many weeks, whereupon immediately all the milk was soured and remained so.  Then, beside himself with the fear of poverty and ruin, he brought the cows sweet grain, grass, and silage to eat and a beautiful pasture in which to eat it, whereupon the milk immediately flowed bounteous and as sweet as honey.  Soon his customers came back, drawn by the sweet scent of fresh milk.  They praised the farmer and paid him well and his pockets were full of money once again.

To this day, when the milk sours and tastes bad, you can bet an old witch is out and about teaching a naughty farmer a lesson.  When the milk is good, you can bet that the farmer has learned his lesson, fed his cows well, given them green pasture, and housed them in a nice, clean barn.  And if you want to be certain of good, sweet milk, you must buy it straight from the farmer and not from a store, where any kind of reverse magic may have been done to it.  This is why the people of Maine drink fresh raw milk straight from the farm and why they thank the old witch every morning when they have their fair share.

June 4, 2014 - Duck, Duck, Goose!

Floating on a pond in the middle of nowhere is a group of 12 ducks and geese.  No one cares for them and no one brings them food.  This year there are more ducks than geese.  Some years it’s the other way around.  But they always manage to find this pond, and they always manage to somehow live splendidly.  I don’t know where they sleep, but they manage to keep clear of the foxes.  Every year sometime in June, I see a few babies as well.  There are always more babies in the beginning of the summer than the end as they don’t all make it.  I have been watching this pond long enough to see several generations come and go.  They are now part of my yearly routine.

They don’t seem to mind me very much, when they pay any attention to me at all.  Now and then, though, they do come to check out the ugly featherless being who visits them regularly.  I imagine they think I am very peculiar, very clumsy, and very slow--not to mention my coloring is exceedingly dull and drab.  I was thinking just today that this might be a very accurate assessment of me or any land lubber, and then it suddenly occurred to me:  perhaps I’m not visiting and assessing the ducks and geese after all, perhaps they’re visiting and assessing me.  Perhaps the pond is just a big ducky science project and I am its focus of study.  Conceited, I know, but just in case, I think I will be sure to comb my hair upon my next visit.  It’s the least I can do, me being the object of study and all.

June 3, 2014 - Dandelion Tales

Of all the things living in this world, I would have to say that the dandelion is the most resilient.  No single plant is held in more disdain.  No single flower receives more disparaging glances.  Chemicals are poured on it.  Torches burn it.  Hands claw at it and pull it from its home.  Yet everywhere you look, the ubiquitous dandelion remains--unaffected, unscathed, and not remotely concerned.  The noble dandelion does not care what we think of it because it knows better.  It shines brilliantly like a tiny little sun in its own solar system, decidedly unfazed by our remarks.  The dandelion does not ask permission to grow; its confidence comes from within.  And it's a good thing, too, as it is surrounded by negativity.  Yet you would never know by looking at it, and it makes no sense when you consider all the gifts it has freely given.

Search your heart.  In early to mid-spring when you are hungry for growth and life after a long winter, there is nothing quite like driving by a green field completely peppered with brilliant dandelions.  Can you deny that a smile comes to your face?  Can you deny your soft intake of breath with a relaxed sigh?  Can you deny the feeling, if only for a fleeting moment, that all is well in the world and everything is as it should be?  All those brilliant, tiny, little suns shining their warmth and energy at you, asking nothing in return.  Search your childhood memories.  The dandelions are everywhere you look within, smiling at you as you played ball with your friends, giggling when you sneaked into a field for your first kiss, washing the landscape of your best days and creating memories that will always be there to lift you up in your time of need. 

And this is all done so casually, as if the dandelion didn't have a care in the world, which of course, it doesn't.