Magical Monarchs

Rhodes and I share interest in many things, but gardening, in general, is not one of them. He listens when I talk about garden plans (English style cottage garden is the BIG thing on the list!), and offers input when I ask, but pretty much leaves the garden plans to me and my dreams. Well, giving credit where credit is due, he also provides labor and project work, too! 

One of the few exceptions to this state of affairs is our mutual desire to create as much pollinator friendly space on our small property as we possibly can. More specific than that, we have a plan to put in several beds of Milkweed (Asclepias spp.) to hopefully draw Monarch butterflies to our yard.

It might seem a little odd to be talking about butterflies in early Autumn, but this is one of the best times of the year to see Monarch butterflies as their annual migration takes them through this area. We would both be deliriously happy to actually see that event taking place. https://www.blackmountainnews.com/story/life/2019/09/25/events-focus-monarch-butterfly-migration-through-swannanoa-valley/2369940001/?fbclid=IwAR2nmd_tA5k32rQWZhQi4LQsdruK2S-rv8MS2_DaQC6s0ha1PQA0_x_7IHE

I was writing earlier today when Rhodes called to me from his convalescent post in the living room. I swear the man has eagle eyes; he can ID a bird from a hundred yards. Anyway, the front door was open and he had a clear view of the sunflowers in the front garden, and had spotted a single Monarch taking a meal from the sticky-sweet flower heads.

Another magical moment brought to us by the Cottage. I was enchanted and delighted and thought the experience could not possibly be any better, until my new friend flew around to the far side of the flowers, alighted, and opened his wings to be illuminated by sunlight. Stained glass windows have nothing on this natural beauty.

I'm going to sleep tonight counting tiny, fiery, gorgeous butterflies dancing across red and yellow flowers. So long sheep!

Good night, peeps. Sleep sweetly!

~sb

The Autumn Equinox - Balance in All Things

I am an intuitive person, and as a writer and a spiritual practitioner I have long embraced that aspect of myself. Intuition carries me to the deepest, most magical, brightest, darkest places of thought and emotion and connection in my life. It connects me to my muses, to my Divines, to the people and places I most love. It is my strongest protection, the internal compass that guides me along paths both troubled and happy.

Somehow, in the past year, I have been living Harry Dresden moments. Somehow, in the past year, some Thing dropped a rock wall between my Spirit/Mind and my Intuition. Somehow, despite the hours of therapy and hours of consult and hours of conversation with friends, I could not see that rock wall. It has been crumbling for a while, and occasionally the light breaks through, but I just didn’t realize that it was there. (Side note to catch you up if you need it: No Dresden spoilers here, if you haven’t read the books yet, but the rock wall dropping Thing in my life was simply the ultimate realization of Grief.)

Not long after I woke this morning, I went out on the porch to greet the rising Sun on this holy day of Mabon, the Autumn Equinox. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the warm touch of sunlight, relaxing into a soft meditation. When I opened my eyes again the first thing I noticed was the shining little rows of dewdrops lining the porch railing. My eyes moved from there to the row of sunflowers in front of me, and I noticed how brilliant their color is with the morning sun shining through them. I saw the dew glistening on their leaves, and then I noticed the same with the tall standing corn. Those long green leaves were covered with dew, and as my eyes moved up the stalks, I saw dew drops on the tips of the silks, and even on the tassels.

I was simply enjoying this visual nature show at face value, which would have been a marvelous start to my day. Then the bird chorus started their song, singing the Sun into the sky with their rising chorus. My ears woke up then, and I heard the oddest background rhythm; it was the steady plink, plink, plink sound of dripping water. I wondered if the hose was leaking, and as I stood to look over the edge of railing into the South yard, the rain chain caught my attention.

The dew this morning was so heavy that it was pooling in the flower-shaped cups of the rain chain. I sat back down and watched with delight as fat, round droplets of water ran down the copper lines of the chain, catching diamond points of light from the Sun.

It was magical. It was magical and it woke something inside me; it pushed another section of that rock wall over and next thing I knew I was inside getting a bottle to harvest the Equinox dew. I tried catching it out of the copper cups but just couldn’t get it. My eyes wandered back to the broad, smooth surface of the corn stalk leaves, and then the rest of me wandered that way as well, down the steps and around the corner until I was standing in front of the corn. I did manage to get a few drops of dew into the bottle, but I knew in that moment that was not really what I was supposed to be doing and I put the bottle into my pocket.

My feet were on the Earth on this Holy Day. I closed my eyes and grounded myself deeply, until I felt the roots of my being mingling with the roots of the corn, and the roots of the sunflowers, and the roots of the Loblolly Pine standing tall in the yard. I used my hands to gather the dew from the leaves of the corn plant, and as I did that a soft breeze went by. A favorite ritual song played through my mind in that moment, and I smiled. Earth my body…Water my blood…Air my breath and Fire my spirit. The corn tassels are tall above me, so I was looking at the Sun through those waving tresses as I raised my eyes to the light once more. I washed my face in the Mabon dew; not seeking beauty as one does with the May but washing myself with Balance as I move into the introspective time that lies ahead.

Autumn has been my favorite season for as long as I can remember, but in the last years of my daughter’s life every Autumn came with a sense of foreboding. This year the ghost of that dread is finally gone; those shadows laid to rest. This year every leaf that I watch fall will represent a healthy letting go; the normal cycle of life and death, beginnings and endings. I am ready to immerse myself in the work of these darkling days, holding a sense of peace rather than uncertainty.

The harvest continues in earnest; gathering in that which is ripe and full, and storing aspects for the future. The days ahead are a time for introspection and preparation for growth. Take with you what you need and leave behind that which no longer sustains you. It is a fine balance point, methinks, to learn that once we let go of something it still serves a purpose. Food for the fish. Mulch for own personal growth. Leaves on the ground; stalks in the field - it all serves to nourish the body eventually.

Do something you love. Spend time in a favorite place. Try something new. Learn something new. Adventure under the sun. Adventure by the light of the stars. Howl at the moon. Let the Autumn sunlight kiss your face. Create something. Let go of something. Shatter something that no longer adds value to your life. Spend time with people who make you happy. Deepen your relationship with your Divine. Take time to share a meal with others. Share kindness with strangers. Share kindness with yourself.

Be fully present in your life.

I can hear the busy chirping calls of the Golden Finches as they enjoy the harvest of sunflower seeds in the front gardens. Another smile in my day. Time for me to step away from my desk and continue to be present in other areas of my life.

Blessed Mabon, my friends. May you find your blessings equally in the light and darkness on this Autumn Equinox.

Rolling Towards Autumn's Sweet, Sweet Days

I grew up watching the Waltons on television, swept up in the romantacized story of a large extended family sharing a home. Of course there were conflicts, but they were always resolved by the time the "Good night Momma, good night Daddy, good night John Boy" closing lines rolled around.

My great-grandfather LaPorte lived with us for a time when I was small. I don't know how long he stayed with us, but I have lovely memories of him, and I associate his presence in our home with happy things.

Twice as an adult I moved in with my parents. Multiple times my adult children moved in with me. I am not a stranger to the concept of family sharing a home, and it is one that makes sense to me in many ways.

When my husband's mother died four years ago, we began to discuss the possibility of asking his father if he would like to live with us. I think we were mostly concerned that he would be lonely on his own. We talked it through many times, but never brought it up with Larry because we didn't think he'd want to leave the last home he had shared with Jan. He is in good health, and very active in his church and other community groups. When we told him that we were going to leave the Mountain and hoped to buy a home, he surprised us when he suggested that we look for something with an in-law apartment. Because Rhodes and I had discussed it so often, we were ready to make the adjustment to having Larry live with us, but we weren't certain that he had thought it through. We waited a few days, then talked with him to make sure we all had the same expectations, that we would all be open about communicating needs and issues, and that he really wanted to make such a big change.

The biggest concern that this dear man had was that his laundry schedule not be interrupted. Monday, he said, was laundry day. Rhodes and I just laughed. Of course he could have his laundry day! (Which has since been switched to Wednesdays, because why not?)

I miss my parents every day, and I am so aware of what a blessing it is for us to be able to have this time with Larry; for Rhodes to have so much extra time with his Dad. We all have our own space if we need or want it, but we often watch television together, and share evening meals almost every night. On days when our schedules mesh, we sometimes have breakfast or lunch. Rhodes and I enjoy it when Larry wanders into our side of the house just to talk, and I love listening to the two of them laughing and talking together.

There is an extra sweetness to these days, an awareness of Autumn approaching in the normal cycle of the Turning of the Wheel of the Year, but also in the spinning of the wheels of our lives. I can close my eyes and see the pattern as the days weave the deepening colors of Autumn into a cloak that I can pull around me for shelter and warmth when needs must.

Living with an attitude of gratitude, and counting this adorable Elder as a special blessing in my life.

Peace out, peeps, and Blessed Be.

~sheri

These Years Later - Ray Barker

I try to keep an awareness of this date as it draws near, with the intention that mindfulness will keep me from being ambushed. Silly me.
Today is the anniversary date of my father's death; four days from now will mark the day that was his birthday in this lifetime. He has been gone from this world 12 years now, and I am still getting to know him. I am closer to answers, perhaps, in a "Shaka, when the walls fell" kind of way, but I suspect it will take a lifetime of musing to make any real progress. And when I finally know all the truths I need to know, they will no longer matter.
I have spent the morning lazily immersed in memories, photos, and old writings about my dad, both in this world and dream visits in the other. They are real and surreal, quiet and intense, rabbit hole and Summerlands, sometimes all at once.
In one of my old dreams, I could hear my parents talking in their coffee-at-the-dining-room-table voices. I was walking a perfectly shoveled path (a theme in many such dreams, and a Ray Barker art form) through the snowy woods, and I called to them but they didn't answer. I thought I was getting closer because the trees were thinning out and the light was getting brighter. I finally stepped out of the woods and found myself on an Adirondack lake shore, with Autumn all around instead of winter. There was a picnic table with their coffee cups, and a box of plain cake donuts. On the table, next to Dad's cup, there was also a copy of the poem I wrote a few years. It was held down by a piece of beach glass. I sat down at the table, looking out over the water, soaking up the beauty of the place when I heard Dad call my name from a distance. There they were, far out on the water in an old style canoe, sunlight dancing on the water all around them. They both waved to me before turning the canoe and paddling away.
I still miss him every day. 

See you in our beloved North Country, Pops.

Peace out, peeps.

~sheri

These years later

I mimic the mystic they and say

"It doesn't get any easier." But truth be told, as was your wont,

Your death brought a storm of grief and fury

So thorough and unrelenting

That over time it smoothed the edges

Of the pain of your loss until it became

A piece of beach glass, tossed and

tumbled by rough seas.

I can hold it now, sometimes,

Turning it in my fingers,

Feeling the beauty of your life

Without the cutting edges. ~s. barker 2015

Baby Ray - photo taken by his father, Raymond C. Barker, Sr.

Punk looking Ray, which goes with what I know of his life.

Dad on the left, with his mother and brothers. I am grateful for the healing that took place between them.

Dad with the love of his life.

I wish I'd done a better job with this picture. Camera issues, and a cigarette haze filled house. Dad with his sons. I wonder what he thinks of who they have become.