Manzanita on the Sandberg Loop Trail, northwestern L.A. County (David Lockeretz)
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Fall here in Southern California often brings hot winds and soaring temperatures. And these bring fires. In the land of what must seem like eternal summer to some, summer holds fast to its last days as if to rage against the dying of the light.
In another life, another world, fall was about a touch of coolness in the air, blustery winds and a mix of warm days and early frosts. Fall sneaks in before the Equinox in Nova Scotia. The tips of leaves begin turning color in August and the air is sometimes just a little nippy before Labor Day. Fall on that tiny peninsula is a brilliant precursor to winter’s eagerness to coat all in white and bring on nature’s dark night.
Both environments have taught me much. As I’ve embodied this environment, as it has come into my soul over the last 16 years, I’ve learned about persistence and how important it is to make the most of the time you have. And in Nova Scotia I learned to embrace the inevitable. I’ve learned to sense the subtle signs of change, to enjoy the journey and to let go into those dark nights with the eagerness of winter, knowing that spring is on the other side.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Have you ever noticed that your plants seem to grow an inch or so overnight? My husband planted some Chinese peas and squash this spring and it seems that the plants have growth spurts overnight. Indeed they did because according to discoveries made a couple ofyears ago many plants do have a growth spurt just before dawn.
Since I've been noticing this lately what is it that Nature is trying to teach me?
I too grow overnight, not physically anymore, though healing does go on, but I grow psychologically overnight. I notice that my most intense dreams happen in the predawn hours. In fact this may be the time I do the most growing since I am processing what I learned through the day.
Perhaps it is time to pay more attention to those dreams, to begin writing them down again. Those dreams could be the food I need to continue on this path.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Listen to the trees as they sway in the wind.
Their leaves are telling secrets. Their bark sings songs of olden days as it grows around the trunks. And their roots give names to all things.
Their language has been lost.
But not the gestures.
― Vera Nazarian