a journey with trees

for as long as I can remember, trees have been my friends. My protector, my confidant. Cubby houses and secret places... where whispers of my heart would be told.

The old cotoneaster from my childhood home. Growing in the front yard.

this is the only photo of have of the old cotoneaster tree.

me at 17 years old, a very young mother with my son Caine.

when I was little, the tree was a lot more dense than in this photo.

my parents had thinned and pruned it out.



In the boughs, I would sit, pretending that I was Jo from Little Woman. always munching on an apple with my head in a book.

Then the lemon-scented gums that my dad planted became protectors for me when my parents had one of their many, many arguments.

I felt safer, even at night out under their protection, than I did inside the family home.

oh and there was a hawthorn of sorts, down the road and around the corner. Where I would scrabble in through a small opening to find a vast [to me] cavern. This is where I sat with a simple picnic of sandwich and cordial and whisper my dreams, wishes and sometimes share my angst.

the hawthorn of sorts has gone, my secret little cubby house, a thing of memories and in its place someone has planted bamboo.

The old Oak tree in the school playground, who would gift me with acorns and leaves of magenta, gold and orange. Whose trunk I could lean upon when I was shunned by the 'cool' girls in the school.

yesterday, I went for a drive over to my old childhood home.. and took photos. I remembered.
The old lemon scented gum is standing SO tall. I wondered if other little girls have sat under that tree, being protected and feeling safe. Silently, I said hello to this old friend of mine.
Sadly, the cotoneaster has gone. The hawthorn of sorts has been replaced by not quite as magical bamboo hedging and in the school playground, instead of a grand old oak tree, there is a new building.

Time has passed. As it does.
and over the years, while I still admired old trees for their gift of shade, I lost the deep connection of my childhood. It was lost, consumed in the task of living Of surviving. Of wounding.

time passes some more and I have found the connection with the trees, once again, as I [re]discover who I am. The trees have always been there, standing strong where they are, knowing their purpose in life.

When I use to go on the back of the Harley, trees would call my name as we rode past. Ancient forests of trees protected me as we rode along. I often wondered if those trees that had died, still held their wisdom within their now barren trunks. I can remember once as we rode home from a long trip, hearing 'welcome home'. This welcome is forever in my memory.

Now living in Katoomba. I am surrounded by many trees, mostly natives but some old pines planted by those gone before me. I feel at times, as if I am surrounded by kindred spirits. I once wished for a women's circle to share my journey with and now I wonder if these trees are the answer to that prayer. I can sit with these beautiful souls. Talk, listen, learn and share and tap into a wisdom, so ancient. For all of this, I am grateful.

gathering o’yarrang

today I went to gather some O'yarrang for a friend. This is more commonly known as Old Mans beard and is a kind of lichen that grows on trees here in the mountains. I am sure it grows elsewhere, but here in the mountains, it is infused with our grounded energy.

When I go on these forages, I always, always stop and ask permission before I begin. I ask Spirit of place to be with me as I go.
I arrived at the entrance of the path where I go to gather and a butterfly fluttered past as if to welcome me, then came towards me and danced a slow dance around me.

 

I continued down the path towards a lookout that I had never been to and the view took my breath away. I was alone. Not one tourist, no noise. Just me. And earth. and of course the ancestors.
I sat for awhile in silent contemplation and then proceeded to gather, asking permission from each tree. Sometimes, I get a no answer so I continue on. I also wanted a small piece of bark to fashion a coolamon from..  this was found, without any searching.

Having gathered enough, I proceeded to walk back to my car. The butterfly returned, dancing, mesmerizing me.

 

alighting on a tree to let me take a photo.

Flitting off, and coming back, fluttering around my whole self. I stood still, in total silence. Holding my breath.
I reached the place where I had begun my journey and turned to give thanks and as I did, the butterfly returned. Alighting on a flower right near me. I went to take another photo but it fluttered off as I reached for my phone camera,  as if to say "Sometimes messages are just for you, not to share with the world. To live in your heart. To touch your soul"

I wanted to capture that moment and put it in a bottle.

But as the butterfly flew off, I knew that this moment would be with me forever. The butterfly was showing me that not every moment has to be shouted to the world. Some are just for me to savour

 

**  Roman Chamomile is my new love. I have been anointing my throat chakra with it and the apple like scent does something to my soul.

 

quote for today: "do not edit your soul".... I did this for too many years... and now, I am clawing my way back.

I have been away. visiting my two youngest grandsons. Harry turned 6 while we were visiting.
My daughter and her family, live on the far north coast of NSW. It is hot and humid most of the time up there, and it does not do my psyche any good to be in the heat and humidity. Something comes over me, I don't know what and I become angry, annoyed, impatient, frustrated and many more words that describe the heat for me.

we arrived home yesterday, to mountains mist and rain and this morning, the mist is thick. I took  myself for a walk, to re-centre myself and as I walked in the mist, the damp smells took me back to the moors. Those damp earthy smells. The smell of rotting and decaying leaves during autumn.
As I walked,  I knew why the heat and humidity affects me so much. I am a moors girl, I discovered that when I was in Yorkshire and walking Bodmin Moor. I am a mountains and mist girl and being away from my soul environment, takes me out of my centre. I know I cannot go up there as often as I would like. That is the truth of the matter. I must nurture myself and keep the promises that I made at New Year to stay truthful to what I want and need.

While I was away, Joe and I celebrated our 26 year wedding anniversary. We stayed at the beach for a few nights and I went foraging to collect bits to make myself an autumn equinox poppet.

 

I walked the beach and gathered sticks, seaweed, shells and a feather for her wings. As I walked I weaved all that I want to leave behind as I travel into the darkness toward winter. And as I reached the end of the beach, I floated her into the ocean, returning her and my wishes to the arms of the ocean.

"there seems to be an obvious beauty in landscapes,

wild seas and skies,

layers of light and shade...

but what about seaweed or sand?"

 



It didn't seem right to me to be in the sub-tropics for autumn equinox. It isn't the same as at home, where the dew sits on the ground and where the currawongs sing their autumnal song. I missed my foraging, I missed the cool nights, the colouring leaves and the opportunity to make something special for dinner. I guess I am a homebody. But all is not lost because as a friend and mentor told me last week: "in the old days in England they used a fixed date and it was called Michaelmas. Which was 29th of the month. One of the old cross quarter days". As usual, this is all topsy-turvy to the Northern Hemisphere, but I  have to work with what I have. I will still be able to do an autumn equinox ritual here.

I have also been away from blogging.. and the reason is that facebook took over my life.
A few days ago I closed my account because I was finding that I was reading about other peoples lives without really engaging in my own. For the past few years I have been chronicling my life on Facebook, updating my status constantly.
Telling friends what I had for breakfast, if I saw circles or hearts, I would announce it to the world. I had discussions about life and posted photos of family events. And I don't know why I had the need to tell all about my life.
 I was also inundated with light, love and butterflies constantly, when, sometimes life is just not like that. Well, not for me anyhow.

And what bothers me now is that I have lost connection with those friends on Facebook and wonderful information about herbs and remedies but most of all, I have lost my thoughts and photos of three or more years of my life which is journaled there.

I don't want to go back, I want to live mindfully in my own physical life, experience life without the need and pressure to tell my status. Instead,  I want to hard copy it in an art journal, creatively.

what is happening in my world here in Katoomba?
the leaves have begun to turn and fall, the wild apples are still bearing fruit and blackberries are still to be found. I have planted kale, leeks, and radicchio in my garden. It is time to prune the raspberries and I have had my apple tree professionally pruned by a bio-dynamic gardener. He pruned it on the dark moon earlier this month.

it's good to be back!

Lammas

a few days late.. but gee, I have been enjoying the time of first harvest. The days have been delightful ~ there is a real going inward feeling. The afternoons have a stillness and slowing down. My heart soars!!

I am the prayer

There are no rules

At the beginning of this year, I promised that I would be kind to MYSELF, I planted that seed.
I am not sure if this is coming to fruition as yet but I am finding, that I am catching my self more when the inner critic steps in. And I am remembering to remind myself, always begin again. To begin again at the moment I realize that I have been harsh on myself.

FROM MY JOURNAL:
I can praise my perseverance in facing the demons of my past and while there is still a lot to uncover and heal, I have come a very long way. It's been difficult and at times I never thought I would find my way from the black abyss but I have and now I sit in my beautiful garden and give thanks to that bounty of healing that I have received through herbs.

During this past season since Midsummer, I have harvested blueberries, raspberries, plums. Apples, tomatoes and parsley. And I have picked bunches of roses, yarrow and lavender. Heartsease was used in salads. I made vinegars and tinctures. So yes, a very fruitful season.
There are plums still to be harvested.

I had my friend Marion call in last week and she squealed with glee as she gathered buckets of plums to make jam. She keeps ringing me on the phone to tell me how  many jars she has made and that the jam is setting wonderfully. She will bring me some jars up when she visits next. Home made plum jam, delicious! Billy my neighbour swapped me a pumpkin for a bucket of plums and she too will pass a jar over the fence when she makes her batch.

On the weekend, I went to a spiritual reflection day and the Community markets.
sitting in the garden at the reflection day ~ I pondered Lammas and from my journal:
"I sit in the garden, a warm, late summers day. Hydrangeas nearing the end of their flowering season, zucchini flowers, corn coming into flowering, apples.. a lazy day with butterflies slowly flittering hither. And although it is still summer, there is definitely f feeling of waning, a slight breeze ruffles the pages and my hair. A stillness as if the season of summer is taking a pause before beginning the journey inward towards autumn equinox and further onto Winter Solstice.
I feel as if I also, am coming to a point of stillness, at times. I ponder what it is that I need to let go of at this point, what am I  to harvest for this part of my journey? Over the past months, what have I sown that I can now harvest? Seeds of contemplation, of mindfulness, of stillness, of letting go, of HOPE.

On Sunday, Joe and I went foraging for blackberries, just up the road..

then to a community market later that morning - so much on offer for harvest. we had a wonderful time. browsing and purchasing. sitting and drinking coffee. slowing down.

 

 

January, Full Moon time

"beauty in a faded rose"

while gardening on the weekend, everything is in full bloom. Roses are having their summer flushes.

I noticed this rose, surrounded by yarrow. It was at the end of its cycle - there were insects crawling around the petals, holes where a caterpillar had had a nibble, a petal fell of just as I took the photo. the image I saw took my breath away. a faded, rose, damaged, petals falling, insects crawling inside  I saw such beauty in this rose. the colour, for some reason touched a part of my soul. I saw myself in this rose, its damaged petals resonating with me so much. Even as it fades, it still brings delight.  It is indeed beautiful and good - no less beautiful or loved for the trauma or damage it has suffered. I see this in the rose and myself. is it not beautiful?

Monday afternoon, I spend half an hour watering in the cooling day. I smell valerian, it is exquisite; another herb ally.

I have planted some lawn chamomile around a rose, hoping it will spread to make a perfumed lawn for me to walk on. To be able to stand, eyes closed and breath deeply ...

 

Watering the yarrow, I become lost in the feathery fern like leaves. At one time, closing my eyes and sinking into a quiet place. Feeling the energy of yet another healing herbal ally.  This is definitely healing among the herbs.

My garden has recently been described as 'my holy temple' and I believe it is truly, a most sacred and holy place.

When I lived at Woodford, I started a practice of naming the Full Moon and this Full Moon, the one just before Lammas, I am going to name 'Black Cockatoo Moon. For the past 3 weeks, we have had a clutch of black cockatoos, [at least 7], living in the hollow where we live. Feasting on the pinenuts that they find in the pine trees that are growing around our home, like the perimeter of a mandala.
they are a magnificent bird, so different to the screeching of the white cockatoos, these have a more genteel call, and fly with an elegance that the white cockies have missing.

I have been busy with my herbs ~ creating a motherwort tincture and some anointing oils. One from Vervain, from my garden and another from rose petals, also from my garden.

Both sitting in the Full Moon light for 3 nights. Vervain is to honour the goddess Cerridwen and the Rose oil will be to anoint myself for protection. I will also anoint my home with this oil - the door ways and windows. Doing things like this bring me close to my ancestral roots.  Working with herbs, whether in my garden or creating beautiful oils and potions, brings me back to a place that makes me feel whole, brings me to a place that I had forgotten. A place that I am slowly rediscovering by spending time among my herbs.