Google+ What I Made Today: 2019

Monday, July 8, 2019

Simple Serendipity

I'm still making Summer Time for heART Medicine, and this little page is a simple inspiration for this month's Art Journal Journey's challenge, We're All/Going.

The words, from a recent podcast titled Eldering into Hope, were already on the page, as were the shimmering gold 'n' silver watercolor strokes. Atop that I drew a simple imagined crowd, and stitched them together with my old, already threaded, Brother sewing machine.

I dig the serendipity of the different parts of this page, and how they all came together. The words magically work with the challenge, as does the topic of the podcast from which they came; the silver 'n' gold conjured a song sung years ago - Make New Friends in Girl Scouts; and having just resurrected the old sewing machine this past week for some other heART journaling projects simply pulled it all together for this challenge.

It seems a perfect and simple serendipity.

Peace. πŸ•Š

Saturday, June 29, 2019

Summer Time for heART Medicine

 
I'm making time for heART Medicine this summer, and it feels good. Don't get me wrong, I make time for this Medicine most every day in one of my heART journals, yet when planting-tending-harvesting-preserving becomes a daily mission, it can be a challenge and often my entries are small... the size of postage stamps. So making time for full spreads has been a pleasure. And I feel canvas looming in the wings. And it feels good.

A big piece of my summer heARTful inspiration is born of the activity of joining others at Heather Neilson's studio to create journals, art, inspiration and community together. This activity has been such good Medicine. I'm sure I'll have more to show you in the weeks ahead, like this simple honor to  my beloved Sekhmet, born of scribbled class pages covered with a thin layer of gesso, a couple colors mingled with white, a gel medium transfer, ink, and words.
I have three journals going in the studio right now, plus the one I carry with me. It's a great way to leverage the hottest parts of the day, to be still, to listen within, to listen without, to engage simple form, color, and express from the heARTflame.

And one page of this two page spread fits the current theme of art challenge #194 ~ Animals, and Paint Party Friday. If you like art, or animals, click over to check the works of other fine creatives. EnJOY.

Peace. πŸ•Š

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

June Plant Medicine

The colors of June enlighten in my mind, inspire my heart, and engage my will. 

Good Medicine, that. ::nods::

Peace. πŸ•Š

Friday, June 21, 2019

Simple Solstice Medicine

The season we call summer arrives late this morning on my little acre with the solar event known as the summer solstice. It's a good drizzly day to place a vessel out to catch the solstice rains, and tomorrow to do the same, only to catch the solstice sun. Both will be bottled, labeled, and will prove to be Good Medicine throughout the coming year. Of this I am certain.


Peace. πŸ•Š

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

Skygazing


Yesterday evening we sat on the deck and skygazed. 

We sat quietly, listening to the collaborative songs of the trees and breezes, as the moon floated westward in the eastern sky. We witnessed fluffs, tufts, whirls, and fur flying off to adventures yet unknown. We gave attention the diverse palette of the clouds that seemed to be passing with a sense of great urgency. We observed the warm radiance of the waning sunlight dancing on and with the treetops. We beheld the first star of the twilight, the second and third, and the countless others that appeared, as if by magic. We welcomed Jupiter as he rose over the eastern horizon. And more. So much more.

We offered gratitude to and for it all.

It was Good Medicine. And still is. And will be again.


Peace. πŸ•Š

Saturday, June 1, 2019

And just like that: June.


May flitted as it filled to overflow with rough sadness, deepening mystery, powerful learning, surprising evolution, love (always love)... and rain. It filled its anticipated role with lustiness, passion, and the full spectrum of Life. Now, we pass through the rich, fertile, and expectant portal of June.

Most of the veg garden is planted. There's still a few seedlings whose roots yearn for the earth, and there's always succession seeding to be done. But the earth bound aspects of the annual (and new perennial) plantings are taking hold and now we wait. In the meantime, there are harvests to manage. There's stinging nettle, comfrey, cleavers that seek my immediate attention. And the rest of the rhubarb. And others will follow, now through autumn. At present, I pray the rains lessen, as they can pose a challenge for those of us who dry our own herbs. ::nods::

Yet it's the challenges that motivate. And inspire.

And June, like every monthly measure of time, holds unique gifts to add to the inspiration. Summer arrives toward the end of the month with the solstice, and with it my anticipation of intensifying heat, and the slowing mid-day pace that it offers. I plan to leverage that offering. And there's my personal "reclaiming my time" schemes (thanks, Maxine, for the words with attitude), which include diving deeper into my personal relationship with earth stewardship, and taking an Art Journaling class with Heather Neilson. Taking a class for me. ::sigh::

I could go on, but I'll pause to take in a wholehearted breath, hold it in my heart flame, and on the exhale to offer you gentle challenges, inspired motivation, and gifts of time just for you.


Peace. πŸ•Š

Thursday, May 16, 2019

Vanilla Rhubarb Syrup

It's rhubarb season. So along with making an imperfect yet gloriously delicious rhubarb 'n' black currant crostata, I made a rhubarb syrup. But this is no ordinary rhubarb syrup. As the rhubarb cooked down to make it's own juices I added two split organic vanilla beans... and the result is magical.

This is a simple syrup. In more than a single way. I harvested rhubarb and did all the preparing for the pot (washing, trimming, chopping). An unmeasured amount of water joined the rhubarb in the pot over medium flame - just enough water to prevent it from sticking/burning and to help the rhubarb in releasing its juices. I split two vanilla beans and added them to the pot as it came to the simmer. I turned the flame down low, covered the pot, and let it dance for - I dunno - 30 minutes. Maybe more. The neighbor was visiting, so I really wasn't paying attention. But neighborly love was surely infused in the syrup.

So then the tart and aromatic juice was strained and measured, and equal parts (by volume) of organic cane sugar was added. I had about a quart of juice, so I added 4 cups sugar. That's the culinary definition of a simple syrup.

The pot went back on a low heat and was stirred until the sugar dissolved, then cooled and bottled. I made a beverage stirring a tablespoon into a tall glass of sparkling water. I was delighted. And this can be made with plain water, added to cocktails, tea... poured over pancakes, used to make icings and glazes, or in anything that calls for a syrup or honey. Just like any syrup.

You can make a syrup like this with whatever you have in the garden, or on hand, in any combination of flavors. Play. Play and create. Play, create, and be grateful.

Peace. πŸ•Š


Wednesday, May 1, 2019

The Lusty Month of May

It's May! It's May!


The lusty month of May!

And while my own personal May Day may be flecked with melancholy, I still embrace the playful passion of this holy day, this sacred season.

My little world is greening, and ever so gently the buds 'n' blossoms, pollen 'n' passion are making manifest.

Planting and harvesting are becoming daily tasks, with kind temperance. For now.

I invite you to make time, to make pause, to make space to be in this heartening May verve. Frequently, while it's with us. For this May magic is - like all things in life - fleeting.

Be with it. Embrace it. Feel its embrace. Honor the relationship. Feel the LoVe.
And share it.

Peace.


Monday, April 1, 2019

Welcome April and the Vernal Emergence.

The landscape on our little acre still looks more winter than spring. Nonetheless, I've been looking close, and see signs of onion grass, dandelion, chives, celandine, garlic, clover, plantain, butterbur, cleavers, any other rooted kin emerging. Sections of the main vegetable garden have been seeded with peas, spinach, lettuce, and beets. The chicken coop will be moved - on this fool's day - out of the main garden and into its summer space, and I'll be able to get more annual seeds into the warming earth, in between the April showers.

Nap time is over. The vernal voice says so, and confirms the message of my full-year tarot spread. ::nods:: The spread that speaks to changes on the horizon. Shifts whispered in the vernal winds of change. 

Spring is here. I await the vibrant energies of the season, the greening of the landscape, the buds and blossoms that paint the world in colors missed for a full year cycle. I welcome it, and the pace that shall quicken. And the care I must take to keep up with it.

May you welcome spring. May you feel the quickening - without and within. And may you take care so the pace may nurture and sustain you.

Peace.


Sunday, March 24, 2019

A Colorful Hello Spring!

It's been a long time since I've engaged an art journal (or any art) challenge with my online community of creatives. Yet yesterday offered a gift of shared herART journaling in the studio with some creative folk, and I managed to complete this colorful spread to welcome spring with a wee bit of my own bad poetry, as I lovingly call it.

And in doing that, I combined two challenges. One from Art Journal Journey, where the challenge is "Welcome Springtime," and Moo Mania, where the challenge is Colorful!

My hope is to reengage this practice, if not every month, then whenever I am able. I've been away from it too long. It's a fun 'n freeing experience, even with the structure of theme, to ponder a collective topic, tap into the collective creativity, create in the collective verve, and share the love with the collective community. Maybe you'd like to join the fun!


Peace. πŸ•Š


Saturday, March 23, 2019

Vernal Snow Blessing

It is, indeed, spring, and yet there's - once again - snow cover over our little acre. There are no colorful buds 'r blossoms. Yet.

There are the tree buds, swelling. And with them, my vernal heart.

And that heart seeks the yet invisible sightings of daffodil 'n' tulip fronds, anticipates the glee of the first violet blooms, even as it spots garlic, chickweed, onion grass, garlic mustard, betony... and other rooted friends manifesting amid this vernal snowfall.

I take solace in these seasonal reunions, as I look forward to the soothing cheer of spring's warming, thawing, familiar surprises.

Peace.

Thursday, March 21, 2019

Welcome, Vernal Days

The western patch of our main vegetable garden was transitioning with the solar shift of the seasons, clinging to patches of winter snow.
The few thawed patches of well-mulched top soil at the top of the south-facing slope, and close to the hut's foundation, attracted the attention of the ladies.
On the transitional day that bid farewell to winter and welcomed spring I was gifted with quiet time and space to sit on my garden stone, sip tea, soak in the light and warmth, observe the symbols of the shifting landscape, and enjoy the antics of the ladies.
The day of winter-to-spring was a spectacular gift of light and warmth, and I was outdoors for most of it, including journaling time on the deck, as the ladies free ranged wherever the snow was not.
I welcome the the shift of the winter-to-vernal days, and I am grateful for the bright warm sunshine on the transitional day, even if I was unable to direct seed in the still-frozen topsoil, as today, on the first full vernal day on our little acre, clouds and rain and snow showers will likely keep me mostly indoors. So I count my blessings, and I am grateful. Every day. Every season. I wish the same for you.


Peace. πŸ•Š

Friday, March 1, 2019

Welcome March

Yes, welcome March. I greet you from the heart of a solitary space, steeped in savory stillness, and quintessential quiet. As one who grew up an only child, alone time is paramount to my essence, of this I am certain. It is only during such cloistered time that a still, shy part of me stirs, emerges, and makes itself known in a way that I am able discern hidden markers of the mysteries I seek. And that seek me.

This precious gift of alone time feels perfect for the transition from Empress to Queen of Wands that my full year (tarot) spread revealed five months ago. And I am obliged.

As I welcome this month from my secluded nest, I honor this hermitic verve as the rare and invaluable gift that it is. It will nourish and sustain me as I tenderly anticipate to venerate the arrival of the vernal equinox.

I invite you to make such time and space for yourself, if even only for a moment.

Peace. πŸ•Š

Monday, January 14, 2019

Nuanced Medicine


heART journal spread in progress
This past week I became obsessed with - what I can only call - nuance. I honed in on seeking it in my doings, and goings, and beings. It was a provocative and harmonizing Γ©tude. And rather enlightening, too.

Eventually, on Sunday, I expressed a less than poetic harangue to a small gathering of lovely women of how we - from my perspective - live in times where nuance is dismissed, denied, and demonized... to a cusp where we no longer see the beautiful places where colors blend, the fertile spaces where roots entwine... the shared oikos where we might otherwise recognize, acknowledge, and honor how unity nourishes and sustains.

I wore black and white that day as a physical reminder and inspiration to continue the adventure into the blending and entwining spaces of thought, action, love, life and spirit. It ended up being a remarkably prickly challenge. One that surprised me with a deep sense of compassion for another, and for myself. One that surprised me with nuance. One that surprised me with Medicine. 

I'm still obsessing. Will you join me?


Peace. πŸ•Š

Tuesday, January 1, 2019

Welcome January



It's really winter now.

And with it - for me - comes the most earnest of the quiet
time, still time, and inner time that I experience throughout
the whole of the year's turning. Yet, unlike the rather
indulgent dark days that lean into winter, these dark days
have a light that shines progressively brighter on that which
is vital, that which must be seen, that which cannot be denied.

As the calendar flips and winter sinks roots, I see myself,

winged, flying under an obscure wire. As I reflect on the
mystery in this portrayal, I also pull it into the cryptic 
guidance received from my full year reading. As I do, I see
the roots that have coiled, curled, and grown around one
another since my new year in November. I gaze outward from
a perched position into the shared garden of life and ponder
the mysteries that are broadcast there. I sense the plants - their
roots and seeds - luring me deeper into their subtle seduction.
In this place we - the plants and I - lean into one another, and
at once I observe the plants recoiling from others. I hear their
tacit longing and feel - yet again - a fathomless heart tug to be
better champion... for them, for the earth, for all life. And an
oath is renewed.

I glide throughout this terrain that they - my beloved

botanicals, my rooted ancestors - reveal to me. I listen intently
for their expressions. I hear and feel a deep-reaching blessing
wrench from the roots of my heart's actions and axioms. And
without doubt or question, I know that the plants want more of
this kind of attention. From all of us.

And an oath is renewed.


Peace. πŸ•Š