I love. I love this time of year. The spiral of seasons elicits not only a special warmth in my heart for my family, friends and angels, but also for the lifesongs of the plants, green beings who support my life and partner with me in earning my livelihood. Their inherent green-ness, so soothingly beautiful to the spirit, the dazzling jewels of their flowers, the richness and complexity of their scents, the textures from fuzzy through satin through prickly, their wind-music. Farewell to the taste of raspberries and dew on my tongue, the healing qualities of the freshest herbs, the individual personalities of the green ones, their joy and recognition as I water them and see them straighten up and respond. They feed my soul in a way that nothing else can.

Most of my green friends go to ground tonight. They pull back into their secret roots the last of the precious life-force they will require to endure the cold and emerge in spring. The skeletons of the plants give up their seeds (magical, potent, effervescent in my hand) to gravity, to the wind, and to our small winter birds. The final few flowers give up the last few sweetest sips of nectar to the few painted lady butterflies who have found shelter these past few cold nights. The trees, the standing-people, feel the final passion of cicada song in their leaves. All will fall to the ground with the snow, a feast for the creatures in the ground, a sweet welcome home into the bosom of the Mother of us all.

I have gathered in already as many tropical vines and succulents as will fit, layering them into the solar south bay of my little heated barn. They are weaving themselves into a kaleidescopic community of bloom, a Polynesian paradise for me to shelter in on the grayest of days and dream of spring. The last four red-throated yellow hibiscus that would not fit in the barn are safely tucked in behind the picture windows at Jennifer’s art studio, echoing the boldness and exuberence of her big paintings.

I have gathered in all the green tomatoes, peppers, acorn squash, collards, figs, and herbs I can use or give away for the next couple of months, mulched the beautiful red chard, and bid farewell to the impossibly blue morning glories and the incandescent cardinal vine.

Tonight I will tune in to the ecstatic in-gathering of life in the turning of this cycle, the transformation of water to ice, the shimmering violin strings in dog-whistle pitches. Little colored sparks of love will shoot from my heart to the spirits of the plants I have touched this growing season.

I am well and truly blessed. I have gathered in to my heart this year a bumper crop of friends, family and angels. You will be keeping me as warm as my woodstove this winter as I relish this time of reconnecting our hearths and homes, of going deep with the special people in my life. May your hearts grow wings and your spirits burn brightly! I love you all.


No comments: