hER yARD AND sPRING

 

The sky was blue again today.  The temperature is raising and we are supposed to have a spell of nice weather.  I am anticipating an early Spring and being able to get out and smell the flowers and see the birds playing in the yard.  Mona has managed to create a space where the little feathered brother's and sisters flourish and play.  their songs, the music of the season.  Mona's magic mixing together with our saccred space, soon the Three will again celebrated Coffee and fire to share the healing with all.

The Three very soon will look to the skies again and call out to the Grandfather's for guidance, inspiration, and big medicine for ALL, to  heal, help and possibly send the Happy to all who will accept it.  Mona was the start and The Three will emerce in the Medicine to spread the joy to the ALL.  HO.  

The Three are mystic Brother's.  

What she started many years ago has created bliss in our yard a sacred space that is growing because of the Three's  aBILITIES TO COMMUNICATE WITH IT AND HER NURTURING KINDESS.  

rOMONA YOU HAVE MY HEART   i lOVE YOU.  

pEACE AND bALANCE,

jOHN

 

Spring Snow

 

Today is May, 17th.  Upon leaving for work this morning at about 6:45 AM. it was snowing and about 31 degrees.  Not that I'm complaining or anything, but Gee Wiz!  The average daily temp. for this time of year in the Grand Nord Dubois, Great Northern Woods, ranges from about 53 degrees in the evening to about 72 degrees in the day time.  Snow and 31 degrees isn't generally in the picture for this late in the Springtime.  

The people from this part of the country call this area the Northern woods because they feel secluded and are set apart from the rest of the state.  Realistically New Hampshire isn't that far north.  If you draw a line around a globe our area in the Great Northern Woods lines up nicely with the middle of Wyoming.  So, from my point of view, This ain't that far north.  As a matter O'fact I grew up about 600 miles farther north than these cats and the weather is just par for the course.  Ok, got that off my chest.  

Any ways it was snowing when I left for work this morning.  It was coming down pretty darn hard for a bit.  Then stopped.  The snow lasted about 30 minutes or so, but the temperatures aren't supposed to climb out of the 40's today.  Since I have lived in New Hampshire for the better part of 40 years now, I have climatized so, brrrrr.  Where is the average yearly temp. hiding at, and the wind is starting to blow, Dang!?

The 17th of May and it snowed.  I've seen snow in June so that isn't to awfully unusual.  Just gives us all something to belly ache about.  That's normal human behavior, complaining about things we don't have any control over hoping the gods may be listening.  Quite frankly the gods don't care. 

I believe that there is a conspiracy between the weather gods and the weather people.  The weather people report, tell lies, write reports, and report again, and the cycle continues.  The weather gods wait.  They wait until we small beings get to comfortable and anticipate what the sky may produce, then throw a wrench into the works and change up at the last minute laughing sardonically all the while.  And what do we menial creatures do in the mean time, suffer.  Suffer and complain about those things we have no control over.  

So, it snowed early this morning and the temp. was about 31 degrees Fahrenheit.   Doesn't look to get much better today.  Oh well, time for Coffee.

Peace and Balance,

John

The Art of the Kite.

 I'll just bet that most folks don't realize that April is National Kite Flying Month.  This is the time of year that has been set aside for loyal kite flying kids and adults that what to enjoy the first breath of Spring and the warming breeze to loft their flying creations.  April is when the Earth begins waking and taking that first stretch into full fledged Spring.  

Although April is the official Kite Flying Month, depending upon where you live will determine the reality of your kite flying abilities.  Here in Northern New Hampshire the winter weather tends to hold out through the month of April and we'll have to wait for May to come around in order to push our Dragons, and Phoenix's into the heavens for all to see.  In New Hampshire during the month of May, Mother Nature opens her eyes and looks upon her inhabitants and either blesses them with good kite flying weather, or coldly destroys all hope of spreading visions of the mythological creature kites.

When I was a young'un,  my Dad taught me how to make a kite using an old newspaper, a few sticks of Balsa wood, some string, and a dab of glue.  Usually these creations flew better than the store bought kind, and if you were creative enough you could make them look very mythological on your very own.  Creation at its Springiest.  

The older kids would deck their kites out with a steering mechanism and wax up their strings to do, "Battle".  Kite battling became a serious competitive sport.  The idea was to either crash your kite into the opponents kite causing a catastrophic malfunction, usually ending in the demise of both kites, or do fly buys with sufficient enough force as to cut the string of the opposing kite.  This got sneaky.  Some of the more disreputable flyers would line their strings with fishing like, pieces of wire, and or little tiny sharp things that would make their string into a saw or knife.  Winner take all.  

Some of the more ingenious kids in the neighborhood would figure out how to turn their kites into bombers and attach water balloons to them and drop them on poor unsuspecting viewers on the grass below.  This was before the days of paint balls and practiced urban warfare.  

Kite dog fights and bombing missions would last all summer until the Fall came and the air became cold and forbidding.  In Montana when the air gets cold all you can hear is teeth chattering and the shivering of birds.  This is the first sign that they will be escaping South for the winter. 

So, whether you start flying in April, or May.  The sky is the limit of what you can do with a really well made kite.  No pun intended.

Peace and Balance,

John 

The Three Coffee Maji

 

Tonight three old guys will re-emerge from the abyss of time and again share coffee and burn sticks.  The three will parle and create things that normal folk will not or can not understand.  Conversation will flow from subjects unknown to subjects almost forbidden.  The Three are The Elders of The Fire, The Coffee Maji.

The weather has changed.  Lifted from the pit is the four feet of snow that has been recently occupying the space leaving the ceremonial iron tire rim through which the flames will breath.  This evening the weather man has predicted temperatures that will remain stable and warm enough to keep the frost from our nostrils.  We will have a grand ole time.

Before the commencing of the ceremony sacred coffee must be brewed and placed in the Thermos of Everything.  This is the special receptacle that carries the sacred brew until it is consumed in the proper manner.  An important part of raising the energy.

Part of this holy process is the creation of  the magical lie that has the power of transformation.  When one learns to weave a tale and speak that story in believable tones, as the Three Old Guys have, then the power to transform the lives of the listener has been shared.  The power of Myth can find the lost and save the injured. Healing is the reason the Three have gathered, the Beginning of Spring in the Great Northern Woods.

Inviting the many unseen ones, and the powers that create back to the world will transform the Earth and allow her to accept her children.  Mankind will emerge from the Winter and the Breath of Life will be shared amongst them.  Breath, Live, Love are the words spoken.

The Three Old Guys will raise their cup of Sacred Coffee and all Hail in the Rebirth.

Peace and Balance,

John

 

Spring

 

Spring has come.  The weather is turning and we in the North Country are beginning to get that familiar feeling that draws us out of doors.  For me Spring always brings with it a great yearning to go out and work on the yard, clean up stuff that needs cleaning up, and begin that process in the body when Vitamin D is produced.  Spring is the harbinger of Mother Nature's paint brush.  When the Sun rises higher and the temperatures go up we know it's time for the flora to bloom and paint our landscape with the colors of nature.  

Spring is also the time with the fauna awakens and creation is in the air.  Look into the woods and you might see a wobbly legged fawn or a baby bear rolling in the grass.  There will be insects buzzing, bees fliting from flower to flower pollinating the world, and warm breezes traveling through the valleys.  

There may be the threat of occasional snow.  The wind might get cold for a brief interlude and skies might darken, but then the Sun shines down upon the land chasing the snow away, and warming any cold air to a tolerable almost imperceptible version of it's former self.  This is the struggle at the beginning of Spring.

Mornings tell us to dawn our jacket, and afternoons ask us why we have it on.  We are confused by the transition and aren't quite sure what to do.  Eventually however this confusion wanes and we know that it is indeed Spring time, and it is time to put the coat away and replace it with the wind breaker.  

Spring is also the time of year when we all get that urge to fly.  Our creative juices begin to flow and we put pen to paper, bring out the scissors, the string, and a few sticks, and put together a wonder of modern man, the kite.  As the air warms the currents of this air rise creating the perfect up lift for flying our Kite, the Dragon Mark IV.  It's a wonderous sight.

Spring is the time for Creation, the time for Wonder, when the Imagination grows and integrates into our souls.  We are the painters of our own existence, we create Spring.  Just like an adolescent God, we have tantrums and the thunder rolls.  Then it quiets again, Sun rises high, and the Butterfly sings.

Peace and Balance,

John

The Wonders of Benadryl

 

I have strange allergies.  They come they go, they sneak up on me and strike when I least expect them.  Hidden in my stuff I even have one of them self injectors full of epinephrine.  I'm supposed to use that when I suspect an episode of swelling, the type that put me in the ER the last time I was in the hospital.  I couldn't breath, the tongue swelled up, and the throat was closing.  So, I put on a pair of pants and drove myself to the hospital.  They gave the appropriate medications and eventually sent me home with a script for the injector.  

I have been instructed to take a Benadryl as soon as I feel the onset of the swelling.  Benadryl works pretty darn good to detour the effects of my allergies.  It has a nasty side effect however, one that I really could do without.  

About an hour after I take the pill the mystical Benadryl gods come and suck my brain out of my left ear.  I begin to become extremely sleeping and loose the ability to have rational conversations.  What I can muster comes out in grunts and growls, and the occasional un-mentionable adjective.  After the effects start wearing off my head begins to go through several levels of expanding and contracting followed by incredible whistling sounds at different tones and volumes.  It's wonderful thing, really.  

I didn't have any of these problems until I reached the, "respectable" age.  For those of you who don't know, the respectable age begins at about 60 and goes through to the age of ultimate knowledge right around 80.  So we are respectable for about 20 years then we become the keepers of the worlds secrets.  We don't have to be respectable anymore and have earned the right to point our boney fingers at the youth of the world and command their attentions with that special glare, and the grimace of the ages.  I remember that look from my grandmother, it was terrifying. Until then I'll pretend to be Respectable as long as I can get away with it.  

The thing about my allergies is that I'm allergic to the trees of my home. Trees like Boxelder, Silver Pine, Ponderosa Pine, and Birch.  Birch is the only one that is indigenous to New England, the others have gotten here on the boots of travelers and have germinated.  So, every year at about this time I go through a few weeks, and into the summer, of torture, torment, and the need for Benadryl.  

Swelling, itching, complaining, and the effects of drugs aside, Spring is still my favorite time of year.  And as far as being Respectable goes, getting old Sucks...

Peace and Balance,

John

Spring

 

I wake pretty early in the morning.  Part of my morning ritual is to meander outside the house and gaze upon my yard and sky.  This morning, the beginning of the actual first full day of Spring, I heard some early spring sounds.  My big trees, I have a 150 foot White Pine, and an equally tall Black Silace, (Willow), were both slowly rocking and making those noises that only big trees make in Spring.  

If you listen real carefully you hear a creak that has a different pitch for each of the trees.  With a slight breeze the creak sounds almost like a barely audible sigh.  The type of sigh you get when you breath in deep some cool air and breath out in contented happiness.  My trees are waking up and singing to the sky.  

I watched the Sun peaking out from atop the ridge through the forest.  It is coming up at a slightly more North Easterly direction than it did a month ago, and the sky around it is taking on a lavender/purple hue.  A hue outlining the bright yellow of the rising sun.  This time of year is the only time of year for that color.  It too makes a sound of it's very own.  Barely perceptible, a low vibration can be felt and heard if your listening skills are honed.  That, and the trees are telling me the world is alive, the mother wakes.  

Being the good child of Mother Nature, I rejoice at the thought of the re-birth that is about to come upon us.  Regardless if you are prepared or not, this cycle will come and go as the World breaths itself in and out.  Spring has come.

Soon the weather will stabilize and the sun will be even higher in the sky.  It will take on a more orange hue and the glow will warm the land as it travels.  Spring in the valley transitions first, then the tops of the ridges wake.  Snows disappear and bears beginning wandering from their dens.   Cubs can be seen wrestling atop banks.  The season called Mud follows. 

This is my favorite time of year.  New life walks from East to West every day.  To look beyond is to look into the future.  Eagles fly and salmon spawn, the streams and lakes come to life.  The land breaths in and out preparing for the growth that will come.  

I notice to, that my own body starts to wake earlier and some of the aches and pains of age go away.  I love this time of year.  Spring...

Peace and Balance,

John

Shoveling Snow

 Some shovel, other's blow, occasional plows are driven across it, I push.  I am a pusher of snow.  I have a driveway long enough to afford a small football championship.  When I was a younger version of myself I would shovel the snow.  I had a curved handled shovel that was considered ergonomic, a fancy word for save the back.  But as I grew older the whole picking wet snow up and tossing it over my shoulder didn't quite hold the allure that it once did.  So, I push.

A couple winters ago our young son presented to me the gift of a large bladed snow sleigh shovel.  It is designed to push large amounts of snow to a place to be deposited, and actually fun to use.  It has given me the ability to complete the snow removal from my lengthy drive way in a wee bit of a whistle. " How long is that?" you ask, "ee Laddy if ye only knew."

I once described the cleaning of my drive as a mystical experience.  It has become a perpetual project in artistic creation.  The area transforms into different shapes and depths at each snow fall.  It becomes cavernous at times.  A valley that traps or repels sound.  My small piece of snow creation.  Till time wears on the the warm weather destroys all once created.  Like Shiva walking the poppied field, destroying and recreating as he walks, the onset of spring lays waste my snow valley.  Till next season.    

Some shovel, I push.  I push and I created mythological lands of snow castles and battles with ice dragons.  For a short while.  Then the Sun lets in.

Peace and Balance,

John