Larger landscapes...

Year before last, during autumn, I stood on top of Cadillac Mountain in Maine. Looking eastward the ocean sparkled as if some ship had just sprinkled a load of diamonds on top of the sea water, and they rode the great waves causing the sun to reflect off them. It is a sight I carry within me at night, as I close my eyes to sleep.

I'm going back there soon, but first I must take a break to clear my system of the cancer that is robbing it of a healthy lifestyle. I long to sit in my cabin and watch the buds form on the cherry trees, while keeping an eye on the fawns and fledglings that newly arrive each day.

All of this is a process, a cycle. We are never sure of the outcome, but we are sure that we are carried on our jouney as part of the larger landscape. The one we rarely get to see.

I feel the quiet of new birth as it enters this world, and feel blessed to be a part of it. For, as I said, there is always something greater that we do not get to view.

As Rumi said, "Out, beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there's a field--I'll meet you there."

My cabin holds all of my secrets, and all of my dreams. If you open the door and peek inside watch out! One of these secrets or gems may escape and take you with them. But not to worry, all of them are valuable.

Feeling Blessed...

This is where I go in warm weather when I take a break from working. Sitting there in my woods I gaze at my deer feeding stations, the cutest writing cabin ever, and the blue sky peeking through the tops of the tall oaks.

I long to be sitting there again soon while I rest for a few moments between jobs. Recently I've had a blip on my radar screen with some medical issues, and it helps me understand how shockingly fragile we all are as we walk this planet.

We're blessed each and every day to be given life. And the loved ones that walk alongside us on our path, give us strength.

Hibernation...

February has its ups and downs weather wise. In my mind I see the ocean, sailboats, and lobster traps of a Maine shoreline. Ahhhh, it brings a smile to my face.

Coming back to reality I look outside my cabin window and realize that the animals in my woods have a break so far this year. Each day we're closer to spring and new growth on the underbrush and trees. The deer, turkeys, fox and other animals seem to sense the change that will soon begin. I can tell from the way they nibble at the tips of the brush, checking to see if the new buds have arrived.

It is quiet now, a time to look inside myself for indications of change. What have I learned that I can bring forward? With the few weeks left of winter hibernation I look forward to learning more, understanding more, and being grateful for the gift of life.

Beauty and Silence...

Two years ago I visited the southwest and had the honor of walking through slot canyons and Native American cliff dwellings. I feel grateful to have the memories of that trip tucked away in my heart.

I remember feeling quieted by the beauty of the slot canyons. The hushed silence as you walked through, arms outstretched to touch both walls at the same time.

The cliff dwellings gave me the same quieted sense. Complex in their structure, but simple in the lifestyle of those who inhabited them.

For me, winter brings that same feeling. A time of contemplation and hushed beauty. I work, write, and go through my days feeling quieted. Soon, spring will come and I'll be busy in a different way, but for now I'm content to be tucked in. It is okay to slow down and allow myself the pleasure of a quieter time, where beauty and silence are one.

Early January...

The holidays are over and Mother Nature seems to understand as she presents us with expected ice-encrusted winds. Savoring every delicious moment of the snow flying sideways by my cabin windows, I'm unable to describe a single worthy phrase of my exhilaration. This brittle nip of winter wind wakes the drowsing child within and brings me joy.

Blustery weather comes in with a vengeance and sends me scurrying to find warmth. A reminder that each day is blissfully unlike the next, holding its secrets tight.

Stealing a quiet moment, I throw out seed and a crust of stale bread to the birds who bring such beauty on a gray January day. And before tucking in at night, I spend a second or two under my skylight. The stillness, the stars above and the promise of another unpredictable day to come.

I am grateful for all of this.

Happy New Year...

My New Year's wish for you will be:

Gentle sunsets filled with peace and love.

And then come the gifts...

A few weeks ago a ferocious October snowstorm blew through my property like a wild thing. In its wake, trees were toppled and heavy branches fell to the ground. Hundreds of them! It was devastating to observe the damage, but after the melt I could clearly see the gifts that were left behind.

Now I have wood for several winters to come, and the animals have enormous brush piles to hide under. In spring I'll begin splitting and stacking, making new rows in my field where the wood can dry. The forest is thinner now and the warmth from the sun's rays will allow for new growth on the forest floor. It's a win win situation for me, and the animals that feel safe here.

Every difficult situation can become a growth challenge. And then come the gifts...

Almost Thanksgiving...

This morning I'm watching the turkeys run through my woods. No doubt they are heading for my bird feeders and deer feeding stations, hoping to find dropped seed or leftover corn from the night before. As they scurry past my cabin windows I am struck with passion for the animals who share this land with me.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. Here, on my acreage, all animals are honored, for their life is as precious to me as my own. Each one can live here feeling safe, and knowing that this land is protected for them. Here they can roam about, find food and shelter from the huge brush piles made just for them. Here they are not hunted.

As a vegetarian I will enjoy my Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. My mashed potatoes, gravy, faux wheat meat, herb stuffing, roasted butternut squash, creamed boiled onions, cranberry relish, New England Brown Bread, and pumpkin pies will satisfy my hunger. And I will be thankful for the lifestyle choices I've made.

Remembering..

Looking out my cabin window this morning I'm noticing the bare trees and how fast the seasons pass. As we enter one we get excited about what it might bring, but in three quick months it disappears. Then it's on to the next, and again we change our perspective.

Last year, during the autumn months, I took my annual trip to Maine. Southwest Harbor was bustling with life and, on occasion, you could catch a glimpse of the locals readying themselves for the coming winter. Rows of wood piles separated homes from one another, and it was easy to note which houses had wood stoves. Most did, by the way.

My days included walks on the rocky beaches nearby. I climbed in and around the kelp covered stones until I was too cold to keep going. Once, on the way back to my car, I spotted one lone feather sitting proudly for me to view. It was white and rested lightly atop the kelp, and it was gorgeous against its dark backdrop.

I looked for the feather's owner, but it could have come from any one of the eleven seagulls close to shore. Until, that is, one looked back and held my eyes for a moment too long...

The nature of outdoor life...

Autumn days are special to me. While life marches on for most of the human population, it also goes forward for the animal life on my acreage. We prepare for the coming months in the northeast by making sure we have the proper heavy clothing, wood for stoves and fireplaces, and shovels. (Where do they go every year?)

Animals, however, walk through these fall days making sure that their tummies are full, and they pay attention to food sources for the coming storms of winter. Squirrels are hiding nuts and seed from my feeders, chipmunks, too, are scavenging the woods for food, scurrying back to their homes with bulging cheeks.

From my cabin window I watch the deer and fox. They fascinate me. Deer coats are changing color, turning a darker brown. They blend in with the fallen dead leaves and deadwood on the ground. But, the fur of the fox stays a gorgeous red and their tails are fluffy, large and tipped with white. During the winter they are extremely visible as they run through the snow. I wonder why Mother Nature chooses to darken the coats of some and not all, leaving the fox vulnerable. A question to ponder?

I'll supplement rations for the deer this winter as I always do. Not too much, but enough that they know it will be there for them during the stormy season. When food is hard to find, and snow layers the forest floor, corn and sweet feed will cover the feeding stations at the edge of my woods.

One winter evening I saw a raccoon, a lone fox, eight does and two bucks, and a opossum, all feeding from the flat rocks near my cabin. At the same time! The birds, squirrels, and chipmunks had all found their night homes. And the wild turkey had flown up to roost in the tree tops.

What a sight. It gave me a Spiritual sense of knowing that we're being taken care of on this planet.

All of us together. All of the time.

Unexpected storms!

It was almost the end of October and I sat in my cabin looking out at my trees bending in the wind. A normal sight, I thought, but then it started to snow. And snow! Wet, sticky and furious, it snowed all night and the trees suffered greatly. With the leaves still on most of the branches, the weight of the snow snapped off the tops of many. Limbs broke and fell to the ground while other smaller trees just gave up the fight and uprooted themselves.

We ended the following day with ten inches of wet heavy snow, and three acres of debris. With chainsaw in hand, I'll work hard on the cleanup.

As always, there are gifts from every disaster. One of the many will be the HUGE brush piles for the animals and birds to hide under this coming winter. With every snow or ice storm, animals look to find shelter in my woods. These large piles are perfect places to rest, getting out of the harsh winds and lashing snow. They may be made by my hands, but the animals don't care. It is cover and they'll hide within and out of the reach of Mother Nature's fury.

Animals and birds bring a special energy to my land, and all of them share a part in my story. They are the purist light of themselves at all times. There is a lesson in that for me!

Feeling vulnerable...

If you live in the woods you are used to feeling more vulnerable during the autumn months. The leaves begin to drop, and the underbrush thins. Even my cabin sits there on its stone foundation, becoming more exposed with each falling leaf.

As I sit inside and look out the wall of windows on the back wall, I can see deeper into the woods than I can in full summer. Neither one season nor the other is better, just different. But, I've found that with each one my mood changes.

My cabin has a propane stove to keep me warm at this time of year. So far I haven't lit the pilot light, but soon I'll be turning it on. I hate to depend on propane for comfort! The cost has gone through the roof and I'd rather use wood, but for this one out-building it makes sense. And is it ever cozy!

So, feeling vulnerable as fall arrives is part of the price of living in the woods. Unless, of course, you have a lot of acres. I have only three, but I feel blessed with each one. Only those who walk my property can see me in my cabin, and I have shades to pull if I'd prefer. But the windows on the back wall give me a view that I'd never give up. After all, I'm sure the animals on my land feel more exposed as well, and that's why their fur changes color with the seasons.

How perfect is that?

It's almost time.....

Now that autumn has arrived, it's almost time to begin the supplement feeding of corn to my deer. I say 'my' deer because that's the way I feel about them. In spring, fawns were born and their moms left them to sleep in the dappled sunlight of my woods. During the summer they frolicked between my rows of stacked winter wood, and around my writing cabin windows. As late summer turned to fall, these same deer lost the velvet on their antlers. Now, they are nibbling all the green they can find on the surrounding undergrowth. My field nearby has been rained on during the entire month of September, so the grass there is still rich with nutrients.

Every year at this time my deer walk to the flat stones perched on the small foundations I've made, and look toward my home or cabin. They know that soon, corn will arrive. It always makes me laugh when this one buck stares at me through the windows, and throws glances my way as he puts his nose to my bird feeder. Does he have a sense of humor? I think he does!

One of my favorite places to go is my local feed store. I buy corn there in fifty pound bags and bring it home to fill the containers in my small barn. From there I dole it out according to the need. I love that they know the drill!

It is not yet time. But soon......