The Whispering Wood

One evening, just before dusk, the forest called me out.

I wandered, mindful of every footfall in the whipsering wood.  

A Thrush and a Veery sang their fluting songs - the mamma

birds putting their babies to sleep, my mother used to say. 

Though I often walk this way, journeying at the edge of the 

light was an entirely different experience. 

I found myself on a mossy stone, where I often sit and sing, 

transported by the call of one tiny frog.

I sensed watchers all around, wondering why I came 

in the hours reserved for them.  

I am grateful to be feeling a bit better, to be full-time in the studio 

this summer. I feel free to wander and dream. It has been a long time 

since I've had such space. Blue-gray winter shifts to misty, healing green, 

and I find myself lost in a quiet meditation while painting this new work. 

"Spring Mists", watercolor, 15" x22", VClaff 2013

"Forest Glade", watercolor, 15" x22", VClaff 2013

  

painting - almost done

"Spring Green", watercolor, 11"x30", VClaff 2013

 I've been watching a bloodroot leaf change, 

and have become obsessed with the sublte shifts in color. 

In the studio today, Grace's Grass Woman reached out her 

hand and asked for the leaf - a spectacular combination, 

I must say! ( and I love the spiraling shadow behind her head)

In the garden, the Mountain Laurel bursts exuberantly 

beside the Spirea, but out in the forest, the show 

belongs to the laurel. 

Rarely do I see the tree frogs, but this mid-summer visitor slept all day 

in a crevice on my deck, except when I came around to see if he was 

still there. I finally had a chance to thank this beautiful creature for 

his song. Go here for a sample of the sounds of summer 

at RavenWood. 

Visiting Stones, A Woodland Medicine Garden, and Laying to Rest in the Mosses

Potholes - Salmon Falls, Shelburne Falls, Mass

My weekly posts have turned into monthly, it seems for the moment. A post full 

of images, but maybe not so much writing. Its a good day to post as the remnants 

of a tropical storm passes through, bringing steady rains and cool temperatures. 

The month of May began with steady garden work - and an injury when a board I 

stepped on flew up and put a screw into my lower leg. Not such a bad cut, but I 

hadn't had a tetanus shot in a long while. Being chemically sensitive, I dreaded 

getting the shot, but knew it was needed. I might be down for a week or so in 

response to the shot, but better than getting tetanus. Unfortunately, when I 

went to the clinic, I discovered that one cannot get just a tetanus shot right now, 

it is bundled with several other vaccines of viruses that are running around. For 

a chemically sensitive person, this increases the risk of having a reaction, so I 

was not pleased. And, so, the slippery slope of illness ensued. 

A slight infection in the wound might have cleared up easily, if I hadn't been 

so exhausted from my reaction to the shot. A week of rain flattened me as it 

triggered my mold allergy and a sinus infection, and, on top of my already 

shaky standing, it was just too much. Luckily, I have a wonderful alternative 

health practitioner, and am on the road to feeling better. The rain today has 

increased the mold in the air, and all energy has drained from me. I might have 

skipped all this information,  but I thought I'd share as often folks don't quite 

understand the challenges of not being able to handle the typical medical 

routes. Healing for me can take longer, and for years I just muddled through with 

self-perscribed herbs and homeopathy. The good news is that I am now working 

with such a gifted healer who is helping me pinpoint the root causes of my 

sensitivities and, though down at the moment, I am feeling a deep shift in my core. 

At the end of May, my father visited from Florida for a few days. 

We took a day trip to visit some places with stones. Above, Dad stands in 

front of a cairn at Three Sister's Sancturary in Goshen, Massachusetts, an amazing 

stone art garden. Below, Dad's hands at the potholes at Salmon Falls, 

in Shelburne Falls, Mass. 

 Both the naturally occurring stone formations at the falls and the 

human-made stone work at the Sanctuary are equally amazing. I was pleased 

to share them with my father, as he says that he doesn't miss the cold and snow

of New England since moving to Florida, but he does miss the stone. 

During the days of illness, I put whatever creative energy - or whatever 

energy I had at all - into the gardens. Cleaning up winter refuse, 

and working on the Woodland Garden in the rear of the house. 

It is truly a place of sanctuary and healing for me. I worked for a bit, 

 then collapsed in a chair for a while to rest, then back to work. 

I managed to get a lot done, in between rests and long afternoon naps!

On the last day of May, I gathered with two dear friends, 

to co-create a ritual to spread my mother's ashes in the Moss Garden. 

She loved the ferns and mosses here, and, shortly after I moved to RavenWood, 

shared that she wanted her ashes spread in the Moss Garden. Our ritual was simple - 

we sang with drum and crystal bowl, and I walked three circles around the 

garden sprinkling ash. I feel blessed to have the essence of my mother 

mingling with the beauty of the land, and look forward to feeling 

how this might change my relationship with the forest.