Trees

It is interesting how themes run through your life or even a day. Lately, it’s been all about trees. Almost everything I have read or watched has had trees attached to it. Trees have always been part of my samsara and my joy.

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The trees of my childhood, the giant maples, the clipped holly trees of the boulevard and massive dogwoods that lined our driveway.

Trees have always been outside my windows in the rooms where I have cried. No matter where I have lived there has always been a special tree. There was the stag-horn sumacs in the first house we renovated. Then the 50 ft. deodar cedar at the next house. The next move brought tortured giant bonsai, ornamental cherries, hawthorns, dogwood and magnolia’s.

Today in the sub alpine I call home, trees are everywhere. There are 75 less than there was 13 years ago when we moved in. Most lost to weather, insects or age.

If you look at a tree, straight on you can see it grows up to the light, reaching higher, for the precious nourishment of sunlight. When you sit under a tree you can feel how  it reaches down and sits firmly in the earth; roots attached nourishing itself with water and the goodness of soil.

“The tree as an iconographic metaphor is perhaps the most universally widespread of all great cultural symbols. Trees appear and reappear throughout human history to illustrate nearly every aspect of life. .” Theodore W. Pietsch

I have spent numerous hours outside working at gardening,trying to carve a sacred place of favourite flowers. Even after 12 years it’s hard to give up the habits of a growing zone 3 times less than where you live now. I am reading The Garden Parable by Margaret Roach and was fascinated with her description of her special tree, Sciadopitys verticillata. It got me thinking maybe I could add a special tree to my garden.

I went for a walk around the property. I wouldn’t add anything to the back acreage that borders the creek. I have resigned myself to leaving it natural for the wildlife. Even the fallen trees in the creek stay. It’s natures way of creating habitat.  After devastating wildfires, what comes alive in the ashes is amazing and meant to be. Even the red osier dogwood we cut for poles for the sweat lodge has come back with a vengeance.

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Our front acreage where we spend most of our time and where we have the most tree loss still has over 100 trees. For the first time I really looked at them and realized how much I loved their beauty. I walked, I laid down and looked at them from all angles. I noticed the creatures, birds and bugs that lived in and around them. They are survivors. All special.

“I know that in our previous life we were trees, and even in this life we continue to be trees. Without trees, we cannot have people, therefore trees and people inter-are. We are trees, and air, bushes and clouds. If trees cannot survive, humankind is not going to survive either. We get sick because we have damaged our own environment, and we are in mental anguish because we are so far away from our true mother, Mother Nature.”—Thich Nhat Hanh

We water each other with our tears.

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More Irony in the Garden

While I am busy trying to kill the damn burdock root, an enterprising artist is creating a bear. I will invite them to my garden to pick the burrs out of my dogs for their next creation.

Irony in the Garden

One Man’s Weed is Another Man’s Toilet Paper

Creative Commons, thompson Rivers University

Burry Burdock Bear

Photo Courtesy of Thompson Rivers University

Artist is Susan Knox

My Driveway and Patience

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It’s been a long day. A full day of work and a Food Policy council meeting after work. I love being on the council; food is what I do. I can’t feed the world’s hungry but I can make sure that no one in my community goes hungry. I believe in sustainable, 100 mile diet, local, non GMO, organic, free range , grass-fed and all the good things. I love food and cooking, I love to try new things and tastes. I read this blog post today and it really resonated with me. I concur that I am not a “foodie” either.

When I am tired,  my drive home, my 25 km driveway usually brings me back to the present. I am so grateful to have the time  and the view from my windshield. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t see some form of wildlife, farm life or nature that delights me. It is so easy to become habituated to our surroundings. Living on auto-pilot, lost in our minds.

See what I see on  my driveway and everything becomes connected.

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“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”

Emerson

Brave For My Granddaughters and Merida

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I sign the usual petitions polar bears, wolves, pipelines, environmental things mostly and I am also passionate around women’s rights. My  very public participation this year in V-Day and Vagina Monologues was  outside my comfort zone.

I signed the petition last week put out by A Mighty Girl, to keep the Disney character Merida, from the movie Brave unprincesfied. To keep her from becoming a sexualized, made up, hair glossed, lips rouged, dress tightened, breasts more defined looking princess: more in line with all the other Disney princesses who have lost their innocence and some their

A Mighty Girl is a blog I read regularly. It has great information on books, characters, toys, music and clothing for young girls. It is in-line with what I value for my granddaughters.

My two-year old granddaughter Stella loves Merida and the movie Brave. My seven-year old granddaughter likes it as well but she is not easily influenced by television, movies etc. She doesn’t watch TV at home and all movies are family time with lots of discussion.

Stella’s second birthday last week had a “Brave” theme and Merida came to the party. There was fishing, archery, a bear, a castle and the boys had as much fun as the girls, after all it was a party for a two-year old. Her dad even dressed in a kilt!

I identified with Brave when I watched it. I loved her spunk as well as her faults. There were great teachable moments in the movie. It reminded me so much of the girl I once was. Tree climbing, bike riding, red hair flying in the wind tom boy. Fifty years later and thirty years of working in the prestige cosmetic industry I know a thing or two about marketing to women and selling you something that you don’t really need but that you hope will make you happy or change your life.

Girls  (and boys) need good strong role models and parents as the primary educator are responsible for what their children learn. As a grandmother, and with  my disposable income I know I can vote with my feet and refuse to buy those consumables that don’t empower my grandchildren to be smart, confident and courageous.

I think we might have won a battle, but maybe not the war.http://www.amightygirl.com/blog/?p=3443

If my granddaughter can always be this joyful, my work will be done!

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Garden Ornaments

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Who needs garden ornaments when you have these?

Irony in the Garden

Conversation on a Friday at work.

Q. What are you doing this weekend?

A. We are going hiking in the hills to pick Burdock, it’s a healing medicine.

Q. What are you doing?

A. Working in my garden, trying to kill Burdock.

Burdock Flowers

From http://burdockroot.co/

 Burdock is a medicinal herb, native to Europe and Northern Asia, but also grows in the United States. It is a relative of the Feverfew, Dandelion, and many other biennial thistles in the daisy family. It’s main healing properties are found in the root.  It can purify the skin, remove blood toxins, eliminate fungi, prevent infections and is antibacterial. It can be used in detoxing.

I am trying to get rid of for its most interesting benefit. It was the inspiration for Velcro. After taking his dog for a walk one day in the early 1940s, George de Mestral, a Swiss inventor, became curious about the seeds of the burdock plant that had attached themselves to his clothes and to the dog’s fur. The result of his studies was Velcro.

I am a natural gardener. Killing it means pouring salt on it. It took about 10 lbs. of salt. I have a lot of Burdock.

 

Cinderella’s Last Bath ~ Spring

Spring has come to the grasslands. It wasn’t a particularly cold winter; just lots of snow. Once the weather warmed up everything else warmed up too. Calves are born in the fields, the wild horses bring their new foals down from the hills, trees bud, water flows, hummingbirds return, old cats get to sleep in the sun. We live in the sub-alpine just above the grasslands. I work in town, where the original settlements were built on the delta at the meeting of two rivers. The two major ecosystems, grasslands and forests, form a boundary between the gently rolling plateau and the vast, rugged highlands just to the east  Soil is rich and the climate is warm; semi arid. I experience two springs. The one in town and the one at home, another 900 feet above. We marvel at the difference. It snowed last Monday but this week it has been 30 degrees C. in town and about 25 degrees here.

Gardening has started. Cinderella our Muscovy duck, now at least 10 years old, moved out of the barn last week. It was time to come out into the sunshine, wash off the dust of winter and start anew. Being a duck, she loves to swim. We have a kid’s pool for her and I filled it with water. Her tail wagged back and forth as she waddled over to the pool and hopped in. I am sure it felt magnificent. Spring is like that; the ability to start anew, clean, refreshed, reborn.

The next day she died. I found her lifeless beside her pool. I am so glad she had time for one more swim and to feel the warm sun again.  It’s  really all we have. The moment.

Sophie, The Pig

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I read a very interesting blog today from blogger Shreve Stockton. I actually get an e-mail from the author every day because she has raised a coyote from puppy hood. I thoroughly enjoy the pictures of him everyday. Her blog post In Defense of the Family Rancher really made me reflect on why I do what I do and why I eat meat.

This time of year and living on the cusp of the grasslands, I see calves born every day. I pass through a ranchers farm every morning. Last week he was plowing paths through the snow in the big field and I knew that he would be bringing the cows down shortly to calve. It’s closer to his house and barn in case anything goes wrong. These are free range grass-fed cattle. Farther down the road there are cows everywhere. This is reserve land and the aboriginals leave their cattle out all year. Again they are free range, grass-fed.

I don’t buy my meat from any of these farmers as I prefer buffalo and usually buy one every year. I just find the meat tastier, with less fat.
The ranch I buy from is owned by a couple from Switzerland. I know they love their animals. We are welcome at the farm anytime. There is nothing cuter that buffalo calves. One animal is enough to feed us for a year and to share with friends. We supplement it with venison (in trade, no shooting for me), free range chickens, ducks, wild turkey and trout (available all year, if you like ice fishing).

I could easily be a vegetarian. I have learned that you are a lot happier if you eat something living everyday, fresh picked from the garden. I am addicted to farmers markets.

What really gave me a passion for meat was Sophie, the pig. Her life was changed when she fell out of a truck on to the road in the city. The driver must not have noticed as she was left stunned on the pavement. A passing motorist picked her up and took her to the SPCA. They had no where for her so they knew that we had acreage and a barn, (we had already taken a family of goats, seized due to cruelty) so they brought her up to our little farm and dropped her off. They then left a phone message to say she was there. What a surprise when we go home. She fit it in well with the goats and the barn rabbit, so we kept her. She was a Yorkshire pig. A friend said they liked raisins, so I fed her raisins every night on her dinner. She also like skim milk powder sprinkled on her dinner.

She severely chastised you if they were not forthcoming.

Sophie loved the barn rabbit Oreo. During the winter she would go into the barn at night and cover herself with straw. Oreo would cuddle up to her in her armpit. She loved to help you with your chores and stole your toque or your hammer every chance she got.

Sophie learned to do agility alongside the dogs.  She learned to do weave poles by following my hand that had raisins in it. Just like the dogs.

Sophie grew to be 200 lbs. at two years old. Pigs are not pets. They get cranky and stubborn as they age. Pigs have their own expectations and Sophie wanted to be bred. She started to break boards on the barn and the fence.We were told it was time to butcher  her.  What an awful word.

It was a teary day when we sent Sophie off to the butcher. I cried buckets. We picked up the meat a week or so later. I wasn’t keen on eating it but what a terrible waste if I hadn’t. It was the best tasting pork ever.

Sophie lived her life well-loved.

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Read the blog post. Know what you eat, who produced it and how they treated their animals. And I don’t just mean meat. It will be a better world.

Love God

To be six years old and the secret is so simple. Love god, creator, buddha. Love is the operative. I adore the way my granddaughter created this picture. She doodles constantly and I regularly get an envelope full of her art work. Sometimes I get full-blown painted canvases. I love to look at it and wonder what motivated this piece.

I love the Franciscan look to god, the hearts,peace sign, stars, earth and planets. What more creations are in that little spirit, I so admire.love-god

What We Forget

I didn’t want to think about Newtown but President Obama brought it up today in his inaugural address. Even his Inaugural poet Richard Blanco did the same in his poem One Light.

“…All of us as vital as the one light we move through, the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day: equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined, the `I have a dream’ we keep dreaming, or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won’t explain the empty desks of 20 children marked absent today, and forever.”

Sen. Richard Blumenthal, D-Conn., later said Obama had “evoked Newtown as a very powerful symbol. He clearly senses that it has a profound historical significance, even larger than the 26 lives lost, in what it could mean for the nation.” Blumenthal added, “He enshrined Newtown in our history.”

In 1965 I lost a good childhood  friend to a mass shooting. A father came home and shot his wife and 6 children and then shot himself. I haven’t thought about it in years. Newtown brought it all back to me. I remember reading that someone had said that the best thing we could do was to remember the names of the children, even if only one.

I remember her name. Noreen Hogue, she was my friend.

A Google search revealed sadly that all that is remembered from the day is her father’s name and the extent of his crimes.. He will always be in the history books and talked about and remembered as a mass murder. He will figure into discussions about gun control. She has vanished.

I choose to remember her and our friendship. Please remember the children.

gigi

Inaugural quotes taken from: http://www.ctpost.com/local/article/Newtown-shootings-remembered-at-inauguration-4212162.php