The Medicine of Home

A cool breeze carrying the scent of purple petunias snakes past my toes. I've 

shut off the music to listen to the evening songs of Hermit Thrushes and 

Robins and watch the breath-like movement of the canopy against a blue-gray 

sky. My breath is slow and even and I finally feel a deep sense of calm - I am 

home in the cool forest, the studio is finished, the opening festival has come and

gone and I think just maybe I can begin to find my natural rhythm and flow again.  

I see that it has been about a month since my last post - back when the forest 

was lush and full of salamanders and gleaming with moisture. With plentiful spring 

rains, the foxgloves grew high on one side of the old studio, and the lupine 

on the other.

In the moss garden, a stone bunny shelters in the low growth, and somewhere 
in the forest, Pasha found a bunny-family and brought me a few. The first one 
was quite dead, an offering dropped on the Persian carpet with great pride. 

The following day, he came dashing in and dropped a live bunny at my feet. 
I whisked her up and into a box and still in my bathrobe drove down the road to 
let her find a new home near the field. 

It seemed that June (and maybe April and May, too) was full of dashing about 
preparing for this and that, with less time for art-making and forest-dreaming and 
more than the usual amount of stress and anxiety and goings-on. The day after 
Solstice, I ran off to Florida to help my mother when she returned from the hospital 
after major surgery. It was to be for a week, but ended up being two: a gift 
that my not-so-mainstream life-style allowed. Mum is doing quite well, but 
recovery is slow and intense and has its ups and downs. 

Shortly after my arrival, tropical storm "Debby" came whirling in bringing a week 

of rain and tornadoes and a bit of anxiety. Eventually the sun came back out,  

and the duckies put on their sunglasses and hung out at the pool. There was little 
time to explore the jungle around the house, but I did steal a moment with my 
father for the tour. 

Entering the garden through the arbor, one is met with the smell 

of jasmine and gardenia and little geckos scurrying away. 

 Tall laurel oaks and live oaks support climbing plants,

and twining vines and bands of happy blue jays.

My favorite place is occupied by a magnificent stand of bamboo. 

Silhoutted in the morning light, it was a joy to awaken to everyday.  

My proud Dad leads the tour, and I'm amazed at how much work he has done 

here since my visit last year. We share a deep love of the land - and of creating 

beauty with plants and stones. A shame there are no stones in Florida for him 

to place here and there as he did in Massachusetts, but maybe better for his back! 

Beautiful scented shrubs and flowers and strange succulents 

clinging to coral, birds of paradise, palms and passionflowers fill 

this small garden, as well as orange, grapefruit and banana trees. 

At the far edge of the garden, a moss covered pine marks the boundary. 

I love the draping of the Spanish Moss, but Dad says its a bit to raggedy looking 

for him. 

Back at RavenWood, the garden is dry and thirsty. Little rain has fallen in 

the two weeks I was away and a few favorite plants died. Still there are plenty 

of well established plants in the right soil that are thriving, and happiest of all 

are the native plants.  

One thriving and very happy native is Pasha -kitty. For a kitty who is rarely 

ever inside, he endured the longest time on house-arrest ever! He had visitors 

to feed him, visitors to play with him and even one to do some writing so he 

wouldn't be alone one day. I wasn't sure how I would be greeted when I returned, 

but it was the sweetest purr-fest ever!

The luna moths have gone, replaced by other moths - but none so spectacular. 
Without much rain, evenings are quiet without the singing tree frogs. Even the cricket
hum is strangely low. I'm anxious to get into the studio and see what emerges and 
to wander amongst the trees with Pasha to sit with the stones and drink the wild
forest medicine. I appreciate the lush beauty of Florida - the fragrant flowers and 
amazing birds - but I belong to this land of mosses and hemlocks and pools of still
waters. I'm happy to be home to watch the garden grow for a while.