Spring is the New Orange

SAM_6392Spring equinox heralds the yang season. We who experience a long winter might indulge in dreamtime during the six months following the fall equinox. Then, in spring, we have the sun’s energy to help us move in the direction of our dreams.

Perhaps you’ve heard that in the human body the upper chakras are feminine and the lower ones are masculine. It makes sense that spring to fall (the yang season), we are more active in our lower chakras: red, orange, yellow, and the lower half of green. This spring, I mapped out the months according to chakra colour starting with red beginning March 21st. In most of May and all of June, we are in the orange phase.

I believe that as a woman, a feminine, I function in the upper chakras. I have heard good advice that women will find more balance when they focus on their orange sacral (belly) chakras and that men will find more balance when they focus on their green heart chakras.

I feel that we tend to favour yang action over yin knowing. When creation occurs, the feminine opens up loving space and the masculine ignites with her in a dance of give and take. If it is not loving, it is not creation but destruction. So let’s nurture the seeds of love within us and then, sow them (thank you TFF).

I thrive in great spaces with trees and greenery where the living things of earth with mysteries flowing under their surfaces reflect those flowing under mine. The natural world forgives: absorbing, softening, transforming, and cooling. Okay, it also breeds mosquitoes 😉


Thanks For the Trail

The landscape had transformed: swept with new grass and young leaves on the trees, I walked looking up and seeing their new forms in the high branches. I looked for the bank of gorgeous purple violets but a fallen tree blocked their sunshine.

This is wildflower time. In the grassy gulley: dozens of pure white trilliums bob in the breeze, too many to count. The pink ones, a treasure.



It is a completely different experience than being inside my house. The wind is rich with the scent of balsam poplar and song birds whistle clear notes that cut through even the most powerful lawn mower. I wondered about having a “bed roll” so I could wander in more quiet places and sleep there, too.

I walked into a field graciously left alone by the St. John family, I believe. The “morning branch” is where you can sit and watch the sun rising, a good resting place.


I moved west along a marshy forest to get further from that lawn mower walking on a game trail. I don’t really like that term because it makes me think of hunting which is furthest from my feelings when I’m out there. A deer trail. A coyote trail. A raccoon, skunk, and porcupine trail. I met a raccoon in the early morning recently, taking advantage of the easy trail. Who wouldn’t, especially those with their bellies low to the ground. Creature trail.

As I walked and lost the grip of my thoughts, I heard “poetry of the soul” and a great wind swept through the trembling aspens. The land was pulling on my heart and my love for it had begun to flow out of me wherever I turned my attention.

Water Love

When I reached the bridge over the river, I took off my boots and socks. I had walked four miles and the day was a little too warm for winter boots. Remembering the Grandfather’s honouring of the water in The Vision, I looked at it, the pebbles submerged on the bank below me and a shadow on the surface of the water of a bent reed. I dunked one foot then the other, then both, the icy water, perfect.

I love what nature is made out of, the dry grasses, the reddish purplish stems of dogwood, the silky pussywillows, the velvety fawn-furred sumac branches. A bird’s call through the air waves is received by my delicate drum works. A pair of geese circle in the air calling a warning to me and I feel alerted but not threatened.

I become quiet, listening: a new frog, a new bird? The wind moving through a line of spruces makes a sound I only now recognize. Ah. A sound.

I love the water along the path in swathes cleared by beaver and the pools that grow and shrink. The wide river protects those living in it and nearby.


The Light of the New Year

I love taking each new day to begin afresh.

Last night I placed my trust in the universe and a weight lifted from me, the room became clear, and I felt like a child laying in my bed looking at my dark room. I did this because I pulled Swan from the Medicine Cards which says trust in Great Spirit’s plan.

The seed of the coming new year is beginning to stir with energy and with emotion. I have dreamed of its form and the expanded creation it will become. Our desires for the year take their first form as the seed: potential, vision, or inspiration. I await insight from my dreams. I want the clarity and I am preparing myself to receive confirmations through my dreams.005



Swan says, “Surrender to the flow of the spiral and trust what you are shown… Accept the healing and transformation of your life… Honour your gut knowledge.”

When it’s dark outside, our inner light shines.





Cool air moving the plants on the ground stirs me into alertness. I walk between those with seeds that cling.

The small, long pool between the tall, sparse willows is blue and lovely.  Cool shade beckons me into the grove of young aspens. The pale lavender asters lay down before me in the tall grass as I walk and I feel like a bride.

Back at my cabin, I gather birch bark and twigs, pull up some of those plants whose seeds cover my hiked-up pant legs, and get my fire going. Meditating turns into a nap and I awake with the cool breeze from the window on me.

Now I sense in my body the many ways I have shut out my spirit lately, not having given myself the space and time to relax and just be.

It has taken a long time for living in the country to significantly influence my perspective. The diversity of plants, both wild and cultivated did not occur to me until I had left the grip of school. It was not a significant part of those atmospheres.

The year I was part of the Junior Naturalists Club in the Dundas Valley was one exception, an exposure to nature that made me feel powerful and free. Actually, summer weeks at camp and camping with my family were nature-full. Likely those exposures helped me find my way back to it.

I don’t think I feel relief when I surround myself with trees because I prefer them to humans but because I often adopt a human-centered perspective that eventually puts me off balance. Recognizing “All My Relations” for me means quietly receiving their energy for hours at a time. Trees are generous givers of peace and joy. They have extra to give because they are aligned with the sun, the rain, the soil, and the seasons. All I have read about trees, although enriching, hardly approaches the experience of being surrounded by them.

In the forest leaves rustle, birds call out, cicadas hum, chipmunks chirp, and sometimes a tree frog trills. The sunlight shifts and the trunk of a tall, young birch lights up.

Here, you can savour the falling of the night and the rising of the dawn.

Isn’t it so different in a forest? At my cabin, gentle high winds and clear sunshine touch my ears, my eyes, my skin. Cool air moving the plants on the ground stirs me into alertness. I walk between those with seeds that cling.

Early January Trek

On the rail trail walking was tricky because the snowmobiles had pressed down the snow and the rain had made it slushy. It was still crunchy but my feet sunk an inch or so at every step. Raindrops hung from red dogwood branches and tawny-red ferns had turned their backs to the wind. Soft sleet began to fall.



The contours of the high land ridges close to my left and at a distance to my right showed clear: covered in snow.


I felt blessed as I reached the bridge. Fresh air swept over me from the thick slushy ice of the river. The rail I leaned on had been built for me and those of my kind. The underwater creatures had lots of unfrozen water beneath the ice.

I remembered my daydream from last spring, of living on the high hill in the trees with a view of the sunrise. My feet sank in the soft slushy snow as I stepped toward it onto an animal trail. Under branches of cedar and pine, coyote and deer tracks led the way. Finally I reached the clearing where the ridge hid the higher hill behind it. I didn’t want to trespass or climb it. Walking back my Earth body felt appreciation for this sensual trek, glad to know the ground with my feet and legs, and to smell the tree oils around me. I have always liked to bush-wack a little and to be where the animals have been.



Needed: People Growing Food


There are so many reasons why it is a good idea for people to grow at least some of their own food.

Maybe you have heard about the water shortages in California. It follows that we who rely heavily upon imported food will have to grow it more locally.

The transportation of food that puts toxins in our air is one of the causes of cancer. Detoxing using ionic footbaths or juice cleanses are essential for a long and healthy life. Better still, we can reduce the need to transport food long distances by supporting local farmers and growing food ourselves.

The climate change that is causing rising sea levels will lead to an increase of environmental refugees. They will be coming to Canada because our land and society is relatively stable. So we will need to be able to feed more people in the coming decades.

These are the pressures we face. The joy of growing food means these pressures can be a blessing. Working with soil and seeds allows us to witness the miracle of life. My son insisted on saving his clementine seeds last winter and we planted twenty of them. A zucchini plant came up so I didn’t notice that two little clementine trees sprouted until late in the summer. Now they are three inches tall. Will they bear fruit? It’s a mystery!

When you grow your own food, you can create your own “artisan compost”. The flavour in food comes from the profile of the soil! If you are a beginner, planting seeds in large terra cotta pots can simplify weeding and you can bring them indoors on frosty nights. February is a good month to begin seedlings indoors when the days are getting longer. A south window in a warm room is best.

Most people I know who have begun growing a vegetable garden have planted too much then there is more work and learning than they can manage. Everything requires care: weeding, watering, bug control (possibly). Plants are like pets. If you go away for a week, you will need someone else to water them.

I found it helpful to write down all the veggies I eat to see how many plants of each I would need. I am looking forward to growing basil next year because I love pesto. I am a beginner, too, having relied on our farm workers for most of my food.

If we start now, we have the time to experiment and learn so that we will be prepared. The need for local community and the sharing of skills is upon us.