Don't Just Do Something, Sit There

New Milk Moon

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It is that darkest of dark time of the year when we review the year that just passed and begin to prepare for the one coming up. For the last three years I have done this in a more formal way and rather than making new years resolutions, I have gwished a theme for the upcoming year. As 2013 comes to a close the need for review of the old and gestation of the new is here again.

Part of a Tribe in the Spring

2013 was one hell of a year. The theme I set last January was Naming My Superpowers, Calling My Allies and it came with a wish and a hope to put my talents to good use and to build my community of allies to help with that work. I was looking for more discernment in my activities and my companions. I think I did a better job in 2013 than in previous years, but my skills of discernment clearly need more honing.

I didn't do as much blogging this year as in the past but going back through my Facebook feed allowed me to review the year in pretty good detail. Last winter and spring were amazing times of growth and exploration. I fell in love with an amazing man and we had some wonderful adventures together. Food, sex, conversations; it was mind and life expanding. My one blog post from this spring dates from this period and sums up a lot of my thinking during this time. And then my life exploded. That relationship fell apart and then I got very ill with a bacterial infection that took all the king's horses and all the king's men to put me back together again. The physical toll was great and the emotional toll was possibly greater. Emotions I didn't know I had overwhelmed me so I did what I am in the habit of doing.... more stuff. The late summer found me in another intense romantic relationship and then in an amazingly intense job. I got the middle school science teaching position I've been angling for for years and it is everything and more. This autumn has felt like a crisis time when everything is falling apart. My summer motto of 'better but not yet betterer' took on whole new levels of emotional and existential meaning. I wrote about my thinking along these lines in this post from late November. Apparently, it is 

Dolled Up Mid-Summer

difficult for my seventh grade students to be 12, but almost just as difficult for me to be thirty three.

Even with the major hiccup in the summer of being, ya know, almost dead for close to a month, I still followed my standard M.O. of going full speed ahead in 2013. I may have still had difficulty knowing what to say no to, but I had allies all along the way. My friends were amazing during my illness and recovery and I learned so much from the men I met and loved this year. Building community, or at least thinking about how to do it, was a major theme of this year. In my 2013 gwish post I used a photo with the african proverb, "if you want to go fast, go alone, if you want to go far, go together." I don't know how far I got, but I know I got there because of my friends this year.

During this time of gestating my intentions for 2014 I have employed many of my traditional gwishing techniques. I drew a tarot spread, listened for resonance with colors, images, animals and phrases. I thought about what I wanted and what I did not want from this upcoming year and finally, after weeks of thinking and listening, found my theme for the year.

2014, Don't Just Do Something, Sit There.

By Sharon Flowers

The phrase is a title of a book by Sylvia Boorstein, a Buddhist teacher I first heard through Krista Tippet's amazing interview with her. It is a joke, a play on words, a phrase that always makes me chuckle and smile wryly. You're right, you're right, I know you're right I mutter as the phrase pops into my head. In the last few years I have cultivated my doing self and have learned so much from that, but as I continued doing and did not feel any better about my life it became more frantic and obsessive. In a particularly dark moment of this last autumn I was on a date with a gentleman caller, drinking beer, talking about politics, looking forward to our adult sleepover, when my internal commentator noted, "Dang, girlfriend, you got this doing-and-not-feeling thing down to a science!" That frantic doing has metastasized into uncontrollable worry and anxiety this winter and I feel miserable much of the time. And it is all so boring. It is the same stupid patterns I've had for years but now that I see them they are achey and dull, not even succeeding at what they were designed to do.

I did draw a tarot spread this winter (and will talk more about it below) but this year my theme came a lot from listening for resonance with words and images. The blue heron, a patient and stealthy hunter, will be my theme animal for this 

By David Jakes

year. Herons sit still as a tree waiting for their prey to forget they're there. They work hard to not spook off the good stuff that will surely come their way. Like herons, chicory flowers have been making themselves known to me for years. They are the weediest of the weedy plants and will grow out of sidwalks, along highways, in gravel drives and on the edges of lawns. It is used for salad greens, livestock forage, a coffee subsitute and a medicine for all sorts of ailments. The gorgeous blue flowers are said to be able to open locked doors. Powerful allies to have in this year of bravely facing the habits of mind and heart that rear their head in physical and mental stillness.

Other symbols of stillness and introspection have come to work with me. The first was an unlikely and ancient copper Buddha found in Helgo, a Viking town dating to about 800 C.E. The small, beautifully worked statue appears to have been made about two to three hundred years earlier in northern India and then worked its way through trade and capture this important center of Viking trade. 1500 years after it was made and thousands of miles away, the Buddha continues to be a visual representation of the ability of humans to achieve some kind of peace. This Buddha is a conundrum,

The Helgo Buddha

 though, because this statue has traveled so far away from where it started. Like the heron who can spread its 7 foot wing span to find a better pond or stream and the weedy chicory that has hitched rides with humans to all ends of the earth, the Helgo Buddha has traveled but not lost it's stillness. My tarot card for the year is the Hermit, another character travels with stillness. This Hermit card came at the end of a spread full of winged hearts, this is the cups suit in my Fairy Tale Tarot deck. This suit is correlated with emotions, dreams and the moon and the winged heart itself is a Sufi symbol for unconditional love and devotion. My spread indicated that work must be done finding or giving support and unity in this realm before connection and healing can happen. Then those powers of love can be used to help others, fight for what is right and increase the true wealth of love in this world.

• 2014 will be green like old copper and healthy trees, grey like heron feathers, carved stones and a hermit-wizard's cloak, blue like summer skies and weedy chicory flowers. 
• 2014 will be a year of answering the phone with "What fresh hell is this?" and hoping it really is a new problem rather than the reheated boring problems I have seen before.
• 2014 will be a year of knowing what to keep and what to let go. It will be a year of cultivating Right Memory (seeing the patterns but facing the world fresh), of Right Heart (Finding new ways of love while releasing obsessive and painful habits) and Right Attention (now that I don't have to be perfect, I can be good). 
• 2014 will be a year of attending to my people, building patterns of connection and of swirling round and round with others who want to dance. It will be a time of building the world I want; don't just sit there, do something.

This last gwish is based on my Sabian symbol for 2014, Gemini 22: Dancing Couples Crowd the Barn in a Harvest Festival. The first part of my theme for this year is all about finding peace and joy in stillness, introspection and changing my own patterns of thought and feeling about the world. This symbol and gwish provide the other side of this coin, that of cultivating peace and joy through healthy connection with other people. My best friends and I are working out plans for a game night of sorts, an attempt to build our friend community back up into fruitful health, a project streaming directly out of my work at calling my allies last year. The allies have been called, now they need to connect with each other into a true caring community. This symbol brings to mind ceremonial times out of the daily grind of work to connect, enjoy and celebrate the turning of the seasons. In addition to our game night, I think this image is calling me to 

New Years Day 2014

find ways to connect in my church and school communities as well as rekindle my connection to the wheel of the year through blogging and celebrations. 

Many of my friends found 2013 to be an exceptionally challenging year. Some have much more painful horror stories from this year than I do but my year was hard. I was sick, I was heartbroken and I struggled a lot with uncovering truths about who I am and how I operate. I did have moments of pure bliss, wild adventures and times of deep connection. 2014 will be a year of more discernment, more stillness, more interesting problems and more dancing joyfully in the stream of the cosmos. I for one am looking forward to it. 

* Full text of Gemini 22: DANCING COUPLES CROWD THE BARN IN A HARVEST FESTIVAL

When achievements have been made and there is a sense of security and 'Harvest' in the air, it is time to celebrate with one another. There is a need to get back to a simple, conservative level of enjoyment. There's a sense of being in tune with seasonal rhythms. The feeling of a healthy heart and a healthy mind, while taking a break from the struggles of providing, can bring joy to everyone involved. See if you can take time out to celebrate and to enjoy your environment.

Celebrating the warmth and providence of the Earth. The joy of nature's harvest. Joining with others to celebrate. The reality of rhythmical or seasonal adjustments. Dancing. Barns and dance halls.

The Caution: Being the wallflower, not participating. Waiting for a special invitation rather than responding to the openness of the situation.

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New Milk Moon 2009: New Milk Moon

New Milk Moon 2010: Forty Two with a Seventy Percent Chance of Rain

New Milk Moon 2011: The Quaker Year

New Milk Moon 2012: Year of the Dragon

This post is a New Year's Gwishing post. Be sure to check out previous year's posts: 2011 Building a Better Teacher, 2012 Grabbing the Tiger By the Tail and 2013 Engaging My Superpowers, Calling My Allies. There are older and other New Years day posts under the label New Year.

Hedonism and Big Juicy Good

New Journey Moon

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God
and I have become
like two giant fat people living
in a tiny
boat.

We
keep bumping into
each other
and laughing
-Hafiz

I joke that I gave up vegetarianism after college to become a hedonist. Little did I know how fruitful of a spiritual path hedonism could actually become. Over the last year or so I have allowed myself to indulge in all manner of earthly pleasures gastronomic, aesthetic, carnal and ecological. To my surprise and delight, I have found that these joys are not a diversion from spiritual pursuits but have been a yellow brick road leading directly to the Divine Wow.

Ascetic traditions ask followers to rise above the sea of emotion and physical sensation that are a leading cause of suffering. “Suffering rises from attachment to impermanent things,” the Buddha says. Monks and seekers from traditions Eastern and Western have been encouraged to abstain from certain foods, intoxicating beverages, the entanglements of romantic relationships and even the sensual pleasures of art and music for fear that they will dull or distract the soul from its journey towards God With a Capital G. In my experience, the unencumbered mind can soar to intellectual heights in this kind of pursuit. But there’s not much laughing there. Or ice cream. Or roasted duck, champagne cocktails and two hour make out sessions. And honestly, who wants to live in a world or go to a heaven without those thing? 

Indeed, those things have not stopped or distracted me from my connection with The Eternal Bliss. As my focus shifted a few chakras down over the last year the realizations are no less real or even less abundant, they are just of a different kind. Just the other night, while lounging contentedly, I said to the gentleman sharing my bed, “The Buddhists say Namaste – the divine in me greets the divine in you. Right now I wish there were a word for ‘the loving in me greets the lover in you.’” But there are no words for that kind of thing, just a squeeze, a kiss, a smile and knowing that this is All Good. My experience mirrors that of the Sufi understanding that all love, all pleasure, is a practice run for the love and pleasure we find with God. 

The renunciate’s ideal of detachment offers one path to the Kingdom of Heaven where we hurt no more. Radically deep connection is another way. In nature there is individual tragedy – the mouse must die for the owl to survive – but the web of connection keeps the mouse, the owl, the Fir tree, the fungus and everything else in Harmony. Rather than floating above the waves of emotions and physical sensation that are the root of hurt, this body and connection based search for That Which Is Wonder, invites me to dive into the ocean of life. There is pain and grief there; water up your nose and sand in your shorts. Feeling certainly causes a lot more tears than thinking, but that can’t get in the way of experiencing Big Juicy Good. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said to me once. “Well, there’s heartbreak at the end of this no matter what,” I replied, “’tis the human condition. Let’s not be afraid of that, ok?” The only way to feel ocean currents on your skin, to feel your heart ready to burst at the beauty of an azalea bush the size of your bedroom, or to experience the pleasure of a salumi plate and a crisp pinot gris on a warm spring evening is to dive in rather than float above. At least get in the boat with us  :)

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Yes, it has been a long time since I've posted. My life has been very full of doing and not so full of writing. But I try. And so here is a piece I wrote recently that shares a little of what my life is like these days. Hope you enjoy it, but more than that, I hope you are enjoying your own journey.   

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New Journey Moon 2011: Perseus and the Journey Moon

New Journey Moon 2010: Journey Moon is New

New Journey Moon 2009: Journey Moon

Happy Hours and Pirate Queens

The Full Mating Moon

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The Mating Moon is here! The spring of the year is in full swing and every living thing out there is rocking and rolling, making the most of the longer days and fairer weather.

Danny Perez Photography

In Annette Hinshaw's calendar, the Mating Moon reminds us not just of physical mating, the coming together of two bodies to create a new life, but the intellectual bringing together of ideas that is so essentially human. This spring I have been so very busy, but out of that activity has come a flowering of realizations about my life, physical, emotional and spiritual. The Mating Moon is doing it's work!

As this crazy month has rolled through I have been doing something I've never done before - dating. I have been active on an online site popular here in Portland have met a bunch of people for drinks, meals, conversations and whatever else might come up. What a strange ritual we go through in this culture! I have stories of boring dates and brilliant dates, but among all of that I have been able to do so much thinking about myself through my conversations with these other people. Every time I meet someone new I have to retell my own story and get to hear their story and that exchange is amazingly fruitful. It has been fun to come away from each new encounter with a new person knowing something a little more about myself, what I like, what I know, what I am good at and bad at. I know more about myself, my life and my world because I have been rubbing up against others who know different things, and that is the main point the Mating Moon is trying to make.

Danny Perez Photography

It's been an interesting ride this last month, being pulled into a very physical and emotional state rather than the intellectual and spiritually focused state I feel I've been in for the last few months or even years. I have had some interesting epiphanies and realizations, mostly along the lines of encouraging me to keep going and exploring. One morning I woke up seeing a giant, flashing neon sign in my minds eye saying YES. Yes, what? I sensibly asked. My response was simply more yes. I laughed and said, sure, whatever. Yes! Bring it on, bring it all in and on and on! Shortly after that, though, I was faced with one of the perils of "mating", or of bringing Other into Self; the risk that you might lose track of who Self is. As I wrestled with this, Havi Brook's image of sovereignty, the Pirate Queen, came to me. It was such a pleasure to see her and be reminded that though I can reach out and say yes to every thing that comes my way, I am expected to stay strong and centered in my own awesomeness, too. A Pirate Queen is not going to send an "I miss you" text at midnight on a Tuesday, is she now? :)

Lilacs and tulips, horse chestnuts, snails, salamanders and bumble bees. The whole world is out and buzzing around. Saying yes and enjoying what this glorious spring time world has to offer. And I'm right there with them.

How are you feeling the energies of the Mating Moon? Did you get out to see the Super Moon or have you been observing more terrestrial miracles like blooming flowers and leafing trees? What encounters with Other are making you smarter, happier and wiser?

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Full Mating Moon 2011: The Green Month

Full Mating Moon 2010: Mercurial

Full Mating Moon 2009: The Flower Moon

Quickened with the Force of Love

Spring Equinox

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Happy Spring! I woke up this morning to an inch and a half of snow so it doesn't feel much like spring, but the days are getting longer and longer so it must be. In fact, the fruit trees are flowering like crazy and the wet snow last night caused a very pretty plum tree to fall across my apartment's driveway and a quite large alder fall in my dog walking park. When spring is defined as the season of growth

Waterfront Blossoms by Nick Nada

it doesn't matter what the weather is, those plum blossoms, the daffodils below them and the 7pm sunset are telling us that spring has sprung!

These last two days I have been listening to the wonderful interview Krista Tippet did with Iranian-American scholar and professor Fatemeh Keshavarz about the poetry of Rumi, the 13th century Persian sufi writer. It has been a wonderful way to celebrate the growing spring, even as I drive around in the rain and snow.

Come to the orchard in Spring.
There is light and wine, and sweethearts
            in the pomegranate flowers.

If you do not come, these do not matter.
If you do come, these do not matter.

From A Great Wagon

Rudolph Steiner wrote that the earth, like all sentient beings, has a soul and goes through cycles of inbreaths and outbreaths. He saw the summer as the peak of the earth's outbreath, when the soul of the planet is in communion with the cosmos. The winter, then is the peak of the earth's inbreath when the soul is completely within its own rocky body. Spring is the time of the outbreath, the release after a long winter and the time when the solid physical-ness of winter meets with the active ethereal-ness of summer. At the spring equinox these energies are balanced, the bodies of plants, animals and even people if they are in tune, move and spin in growth while still being well contained by their physicality. 

Kids Playing by YoAndMi

Rumi's poetry balances on and bridges the border between physicality and transcendent, as well. Many of is poems seem erotic, describing a beloved's body, scent or countenance. Like all the best poetry it is unclear who exactly the beloved being spoken of is, god or an earthly lover?  Keshavarz says that to Rumi these two kinds of loves, and all the other kinds of loves we experience, are places along the continuum of human experience. The goal, she says, is to purify the soul but that the rest of the human experience is not base or sinful. "Love, whether of this kind or that kind ultimately leads you to the same king," writes Rumi. We are here in a physical body so that it can help us along our path. Keshavarz quotes a famous Sufi tale in which a young man approaches a master over and over asking for teaching. The master refuses to teach the young man, asking "Have you ever fallen in love with a woman?" "No", the young man replies, "I am just 18 years old." The master answers simply, "Well, go try that first." The physical world is a tool of the soul on it's journey, a very important tool.

The world is a mountain
Whatever you say, good or bad, it will echo it back to you
Don't say I sang nicely and mountain echoed an ugly voice…
That is not possible

The human intellect is a place where hesitation and uncertainty take root
There is no way to overcome this hesitation…except by falling in love

To reach the sea and be happy with a jug water is a waste
The sea that has pearls…
And a hundred thousand other precious things.

On the World, translated by Fatemeh Keshavarz

Waterfall by rknickme

I know this, too, that our bodies and physicality are vital tools on our journeys as spiritual beings. And in the spring of the year it is time to relish in that physicality. Trees are bursting into blossom delighting our eyes, the wind carries scents in a way it hasn't in months delighting our noses and the sun shines in a way that delights our skin. Let us delight in all the other ways we can be in and of this muddy, rainy, snowy, deliciously beautiful place we call Earth. Let us be whirling dervishes like Rumi's followers - centered while moving, quickened with the force of love.

What does spring look like where you are? Flowers and sun or snow and mud? Have you ever read or heard any Rumi poems before? Which are your favorites? How do you celebrate the physicality of life? How do you stay centered while moving?

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Be sure to check out Krista Tippet's On Being for downloads of the radio interview, transcripts, recordings of the poems I quoted and more plus photos, reflections and so much more. And subscribe to On Being so we can talk about all the shows! Also, check out some other poems that I decided not to include, but are are too good to go without a mention. Rainer Maria Wilke's Widening Circles read by Joanna Macy on an older episode of On Being, and Robert Frost's A Prayer in Spring. It's almost National Poetry month, aren't you excited!

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Spring Equinox

Spring Equinox 2009: Spring Equinox

Spring Equinox 2010: Giving Thanks at the Equinox and Easter

Spring Equinox 2011: Spring Equinox (apparently I'm a creative namer of spring equinox posts...)

July

Full Mother's Moon

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The full Mother's Moon is upon us and so is summer. As I talked about in my Summer Solstice post, this is the time of late nights and early mornings with long, busy, lovely days in between. I feel like I have been set on Energizer Bunny mode and there is no real end in sight. Its an exciting time, a beautiful time, and a crazy time. The Mother is showering us with gifts of fruit, sunshine, flowers and friendship. Do we see these gifts? What do we do with them? What do we do with all of them??

July
THE meadows slumber in the golden shine;
Full-mirrored in the river's glass serene,
Stirless, the blue sky sleeps; knee-deep in green,
Nigh o'er-content for grazing are the kine.
The russet hops hang ripening on the bine;
The birds are mute; no clouds there are between
The slumbering lands to come and the sun's sheen;
The day is drowsed with Summer's 'wildering wine.
Peace over all is writ: fought is the fight;
From Winter for the nonce the field is won
And the tired earth can slumber in the sun
And dream her summer-dreams of still increase;
Whil'st, as the long rays lengthen to the night,
The breeze o'er all the landscape murmurs 'Peace!'
- John Payne

The weather has been so lovely here in Portland these last two weeks. We've had a couple spells of mid to upper 80s broken up with cooler days. I feel like I have been either opening or closing windows constantly all month to keep the temperature reasonable in the house. I've been camping, hiking, swimming and hanging out on patios like it's going out of style, which in a way it is. Realizing that there are only two more weeks of July and then only 4 weeks of August and then it is September makes you want to run around and soak up all the sunshine and warm weather you can get. Gotta store up that vitamin D and memories of outdoor living for the inevitable gray and wet winter ahead.

The plant life in my neighborhood is showing the first signs of the summer drought. The roadside weeds are clearly no longer in the full flush of growth that they were in three weeks ago. Many grasses are three or four feet tall (and some are even taller) and beginning to ripen their seed heads, adding hints of gold and purple to the green of the medians and unmowed fields. Even the trees seem to have settled out of their sparkling spring green into a more steady summer green. The flashy spring flowers like irises and rhododendrons are past but the beautiful little field flowers are making their appearance in yellows, purples and whites.

And the roses! Portland isn't called the City of Roses for nothing. The area all along the freeway that runs right around downtown Portland is planted in a riot of pink, red and white roses that are all in bloom right now. I get a flush of civic pride every time I drive it. And of course, the rose gardens at Washington Park and Peninsula Park - as well as every grandma's front yard in the neighborhood - are in full, blossom.

Its a frantic time, these long, warm summer days. It's alright, though, to lean into that frantic energy. There will be time for rest and sleep in the shorter, cooler days of autumn yet to come. Its hard to think that summer is sliding into autumn already, but its almost impossible not to feel that way. Counting the weeks, watching the grasses turn colors or even noting that the sun is setting just a few minutes earlier each sunny evening is proof positive that Summer Solstice, while the zenith of the sun's power, is also the tipping point into the waning half of the year.

What does July look like where you are? How are you enjoying summer and the Mother's gifts that come with the long days? Is your area known for any flowers or fruit and are they in season right now? Are you noticing the waning of the year already or does it just look like go go go from your standpoint? Are you remembering your sunscreen? Happy summertime!

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Mother's Moon 2009: Gifts from the Mother

Full Mother's Moon 2010: Motherlove and Caring for the Environment

Re-creating during the Courting Moon

New Courting Moon

I've actually never posted for the New Courting Moon before, but here is my one lonely post about the Courting Moon:

Courting Moon 2009: Courting Moon - I took a break!
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This month's new moon is the Courting Moon, an intercalary moon that is added every few years to keep the solar festivals in their proper lunar month. One of the beautiful parts of Annette Hinshaw's calendar is that both the moon cycle and the solar festival cycle tell the story of the God, the Goddess and their Creation and that both cycles stay in sync. In a purely solar calendar like the Islamic calendar, festivals move around the year because the 29.5 day lunar cycle doesn't fit perfectly into the 365.25 day solar cycle. Every calendar that needs to keep it's solar cycle aligned with it's lunar cycle, like the Jewish calendar, has to add an intercalary month or period. I wrote more about this phenomenon two years ago during the last Courting Moon.
Like the last Courting Moon two years ago, I am feeling the energies of this moon as a question about how we re-create our lives through recreation. Keith Collins at The Inner Coach calls recreation the "third way" between work and rest and is a way to creatively work out how to live the life your soul asks you to live. I find this to be a huge task to pick up, especially in a month like this all full of sunshine and sleet, flowers and mud.

The Flower Fed Buffaloes by Vachel Lindsay

The flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
In the days of long ago,
Ranged where the locomotives sing
And the prarie flowers lie low:
The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass
Is swept away by wheat,
Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by
In the spring that still is sweet.
But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
Left us long ago,
They gore no more, they bellow no more:--
With the Blackfeet lying low,
With the Pawnee lying low.

April is National Poetry Month and I have been using my Facebook page as a "ministry" outlet again by posting lots of poetry. I have been having a great time reading many different kinds of poems ranging from classic children's poems to very modern poems about the Japanese earthquake and tsunami. In his article Recreation and Re-Creation, Keith Heidorn laments the fact that arts, music and even sports and science are being relegated to the halls of academia or other haunts of the highly skilled. "How many of us still sing outside the safety of the shower or the car in rush-hour traffic?... And poetry, according to Adrienne Rich, is being 'hoarded inside the schools, inside the universities' because the priesthood believes that the average citizen can't understand poetry and thus, it should be left to the experts." He goes on to insist that art is an act of re-creation, of giving physical substance to our innermost feelings. We should not give that away or let others take it from us. Posting poetry to Facebook almost feels like a renegade act, but one that is deeply fulfilling.

The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

In addition to poetry, my other re-creational outlet this month has been working in my garden. This year I am back to just one garden but expanded it to three beds. I planted quite a few hardy greens last summer and autumn and was pleasantly surprised by how many survived and even thrived with minimal protection over the winter. I've spent a number of pleasant hours in my garden in the past few weeks pulling weeds, planting starts and seeds, massaging compost into the soil and just generally puttering about. I love watching everything poke its head up out of the soil, old friends like the persistent and perennial lemon balm and new plants that might be flowers or they might be weeds. Or they might be both. I've discovered some runaway garlic and raspberries from my neighbors yard and am excited to see if the gangley grape plant bears fruit for us this year. I get so much spiritual nourishment from my garden and playing around in it really is one of the great joys of spring.

Daffadowndilly by A.A. Milne

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
"Winter is dead."

How are you re-creating your self through recreation this spring? Are you planting a garden? Reading poetry? Enjoying a sport or an art or time spent with dear loved ones? What are you reading that is re-creating? What are you writing? What life is your soul asking you to create through your recreation? What's your favorite poem? How are the flowers coming along wherever you are this spring?

Spring Equinox

Spring Equinox

Spring Equinox 2009: Spring Equinox
As I said two years ago, if you can't explain solstices and equinoxes to a nine year old, do some reading until you can. Check out this video.

Spring Equinox 2010: Giving Thanks at the Equinox

My post Easter from April 2010 is also about a holiday associated with the Spring Equinox.

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Spring is here! Spring is here!

One of my biggest pet peeves is this ridiculous idea that a season begins at the equinox or solstice that bears its name. I much prefer to think of the equinoxes and solstices as the height of the seasons, not the beginnings. Spring is the season of new growth and it begins well before the days and nights reach equilibrium. To me, the beginning of spring is in early February, halfway between the winter solstice and spring equinox but it always seems like I'm the only one who is celebrating so early. Last weekend I was in my garden, turning up soil and planting lettuce seeds when I had the realization that spring is no longer a secret I whisper to myself. At the equinox spring is a triumph to be shouted out loud.

Luckily, I'm not the only one doing the shouting, now - the Earth is doing plenty shouting herself. The lilac trees and currant bushes are budding, the daffodils are out and so are the cherry blossoms. Nettles are up, ducks are pairing up and the slugs and snakes are back on the edges of the trails I walk each week. Even the rain is shouting that it's spring; gentle, sweet and almost warm. I even saw a turkey vulture the other day! A friend of mine recently commented that the peepers and pounders are back - peepers being tree frogs and pounders being the flickers who hammer against whatever sounds good. Both making all the noise they can to get the ladies lookin' their way.

Like equinoxes past, I was up for the sunrise on Monday morning. The sunrise was typically gray, but also typically noisy with birdsong. I love this time of year when the birds are twitterpated and making all the noise they can. I love the light evenings and the warmer afternoons. I love the smell of cherry and apple blossoms, of wet earth and sunshine on green grass.

What's spring shouting where you are? I know I have followers all over the continent and readers from even further afield. Leave a comment and let me know what spring looks like where you are. What's blooming? What's singing? What are you noticing? Happy equinox, and happy spring!

Glory Days

I’m driving down I-5, somewhere between Grants Pass and Medford. Driving through the mountains always gives me a bit of a rush. There’s skill involved in that kind of driving, making sure I have enough power on the way up and enough control on the way down. The whole time I work to balance my attention. I’d just as soon stare out the window at the ridgelines and trees above or the farms and ranches below, but those wickedly sharp curves and lumbering semi trucks demand their share of my brain. The CD clicks over to the next song and all of a sudden there is something else competing for my attention. Bruce Springsteen ushers me into my weekend in Ashland, the town of my college years.

Now I think I'm going down to the well tonight

and I'm going to drink till I get my fill

And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it

but I probably will

Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture

a little of the glory of, well time slips away

and leaves you with nothing mister but

boring stories of glory days

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I show up at the potluck, I can already hear folks pickin’ guitar on the back porch. Ruby, the fat old dog who used to be my lithe hiking companion rushes out the door to leap at me, crying with excitement at seeing me again after all this time. Ruby’s owner comes to the door to greet me, his four year old daughter hiding behind his legs. We hug like old friends who haven’t seen each other in too long because that’s what we are. I make my rounds at the party, warmly greeting the people I have loved for years and introducing myself to the new folks who I imagined I could love if I still lived in this town. Talk soon turns to babies – two of my dear friends are massively pregnant and my friend and his wife just had their second baby less than a month ago. I’m happy and sad. I want this, but there is so much more to want and not want about this place.

Soon I am holding the baby, her blue eyes open and staring into mine. The smell, oh lord, there is no smell like that of a new baby’s head. I sit in that cozy front room, humming songs, surrounded by pregnant women and older mothers talking love. The smell is still with me.

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Driving up into the mountains again, alone this time, more Bruce on the CD player. This road is so full of memories. The overlook I stopped at with this boyfriend, a roadcut we visited on a memorable geology field trip. Every curve, every tree, every view holding such strong memories of times past. 20 minutes up the road and I pull into the driveway of a park I’ve never been to. I read on the internet that they have a labyrinth made out of field stones in a meadow overlooking town. I could use some centering and grounding.

The labyrinth is exactly as beautiful as I expected it to be. Turkey vultures, ravens and robins have made their appearances on my walk and a giant, stately oak tree looks over the labyrinth. As I walk thoughts of the night before come back. It was uncomfortable; being in Ashland often is these days. Like trying on your favorite jeans from 10 years ago. Even if they fit they just don’t feel right, they aren’t right for now. My early 20s were such emotional times but I think I didn’t realize it at the time that revisiting the memories requires me to process it all in a way I didn’t or couldn’t then.

Along the path of the labyrinth there are tiny pink flowers, small rabbitbrush plants and even a small pine tree. Their presence in the here and now brings to mind the children and babies I spent time with that morning. May Day opens the door to summer and these beautiful little girls, along with the natural presence surrounding me, are showing me the door to my next set of Glory Days. They are here, now, and maybe in the future. The past doesn’t bother them, not even the mountain who watched it all come and go. Why am I spending so much anxiety over what happened back then? Those days were Glory Days, but there are Glory Days coming up, too. Those little girls, those flowers, that raven and that mountain all have the prime of their live coming up. And so do I. These are Glory Days now, in fact, these are Better Days!

Well my soul checked out missing as I sat listening
To the hours and minutes tickin' away
Yeah, just sittin' around waitin' for my life to begin
While it was all just slippin' away
I'm tired of waitin' for tomorrow to come
Or that train to come roarin' 'round the bend
I got a new suit of clothes a pretty red rose
And a woman I can call my friend

These are better days baby
Yeah there's better days shining through
These are better days baby
Better days with a girl like you

Happy May Day!

A Flower Story for the Flower Moon

WHY FLOWERS HAVE BRIGHT COLOURS

from the book Overheard in Fairyland by Madge A. Bingham

If you had been in the Garden Beautiful late one moonlight night, you would have heard the Lady Petunia, all dressed in a violet robe, tell such a wonderful story that even the dewdrops nestled among her leaves to listen.

"Once upon a time," she said, "when the world was new, all flowers were white, and none wore the bright coloured dresses we see them wear these days. The queen of the flowers was an exquisite white rose. She grew in the centre of the garden, near the lake, and grouped around her were flowers of every kind—pinks, nasturtiums, poppies, dahlias, lilacs, hyacinths, phlox, daisies, daffodils, and many, many other kinds.

"But all, like the queen, were dressed in pure white.

"They loved the rose queen, because it was she who had taught them all the wonderful secrets that they knew. She had shown them how to send forth their slender roots under the ground for food to eat, and how to carry it up the stalks to the leaves and precious blossoms. She had shown them, too, how to make the wonderful pollen dust of gold, and even how to make the little seed cradles with the wee baby seeds tucked inside.

"But one thing, the greatest thing of all, the rose queen could not tell them; and that was how to ripen the wee seed babies and make them grow fat and round and plump,—as an earth baby does, you know.

"For many days the rose queen bowed her head and thought and wondered over this question. What could she do? It would be too bad if the baby seeds from none of the plants ever ripened or grew any larger, for not even a little seed likes always to be a baby. Then too, without well-ripened seed, soon there would be no flowers blooming in the Garden Beautiful—because there would be no seeds to plant.

"So, you see, that was enough to make the rose queen sorrowful, and for nights and days she thought or dreamed of nothing else.

"At last she said, one day, to a little breeze fairy who was softly fanning her cheeks: 'Pretty breeze fairy, in all of your travels, have you heard of no one who knows how flowers may ripen their seeds, and make them grow plump and round?'

" 'I know how trees ripen their seeds, replied the little breeze fairy.'They exchange their golden pollen dust with one another. I have often helped the wind blow it from one tree to another.

" 'Perhaps that is the way flowers should ripen their seed babies, too. I would help you if I could, but when the wind blows it is so rough and strong that I feel sure it would blow the dainty flower-cups all to pieces.

" 'Why do you not ask the bees to help you do this or the moths and butterflies? They would be the very ones to help you out of your trouble, and carry the pollen dust to and fro.'

"Now the rose queen had often seen the bees and butterflies flitting by the garden; but they never came near any of the flowers. So how could she ask any of them to carry the golden pollen dust from flower to flower?

" 'I must get a message to these bees and butterflies somehow,' said the queen to herself. 'How shall I do it?' And then, the very next moment, a smile played over her beautiful face and she said softly: 'Oh, now I know what we can do! I suppose bees and butterflies are like the earth-children and like good things to eat. 'I will tell the flowers about my plan in the morning, and we will all make sweet nectar juice and tuck it away, down in our flower cups, and then the bees and butterflies will be sure to come to us for a taste. It is then I will ask them to help us exchange our golden pollen dust with one another—roses with roses, violets with violets, pinks with pinks,—that is the way.'

"And so the rose queen fell asleep, happy in her new-made plan, because she knew how happy it would make the flowers next day when they heard that she had at last thought of a way to make their seed babies ripen and grow.

"And, indeed, they were very happy when they heard about it, and they began at once, and worked from early morning until night, storing away delicious nectar juice for their visitors, the bees and butterflies, whom they were expecting very soon.

"But alas! though the nectar juice was of the sweetest and very best, none of the bees or the dainty butterflies stopped to take even a sip, and because of this the beautiful rose queen was more sorrowful than ever, and the flowers drooped low over the cradles where the young seed babies lay sleeping, sick and pale.

"It seemed that they would have to die after all, since neither the bees nor butterflies would come to help them exchange their golden pollen dust, and this alone was all that could possibly save their lives. Surely something must be done, or very soon the Garden Beautiful would be without its lovely flowers, since there would be no more seeds to grow up in place of the flowers that withered.

" 'I’ll tell you,' said the little breeze, who lingered again by the side of the rose queen. 'Why do you not put out signal flags of red and blue and other bright colours? All of your flowers in the Garden Beautiful are dressed in white, and perhaps bees and butterflies cannot see white. Now if you will put out brightly-coloured signal flags, I am sure the bees and butterflies will come, because they like bright colours, and when they find out that you have made sweet nectar juice for them they will be only too glad to keep on coming. Try it,' laughed the little breeze, 'and while the bees and butterflies are busy sipping nectar juice, the flowers can be sprinkling golden pollen dust over their bodies and wings so they will be sure to leave some with every new flower they call on.

'"The fair rose queen laughed merrily with the little breeze, as he talked, and then she said: 'But wait; before you go, tell me, pray, where I am to get these brightly-coloured signal flags you speak of? I have none.'

" 'Oh, the sunbeam fairies can bring you every colour of the rainbow,—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet,' replied the mischievous little breeze, tickling her leaves into fresh laughter as he flew away.

"Then the happy rose queen called quickly to a sunbeam fairy who danced that way. 'Come and help me, shining fairy of the sky,' she said. ' Bring to me, I pray thee, many brightly-coloured flags. I would have them of the lovely rainbow colours, so beautiful to look upon.'

" 'Flags?' replied the shining sunbeam fairy, pausing in his dance. 'I have no flags, fair queen, but I can bring you something better—dresses in all the rainbow colours, bright and beautiful to look upon.'

"So away he hastened to the palace of the sun, leaving the dear rose queen very happy, and when he returned there came with him many, many tiny sunbeam fairies, each one heavily laden, and oh, the beautiful, beautiful dresses they brought with them! Soon all the flowers had changed their robes of spotless white for garments of the brightest rainbow hues—of blue and red and violet and orange and their tints and shades.

"Very soon there was a wonderful change in the Garden Beautiful and the rose queen's cheeks flushed a delicate pink when she bowed her head in thanks to the kind little sunbeam fairies. And it really happened just as the little breeze fairy said it would. Very soon the bees and butterflies caught sight of the Garden Beautiful, decked out in its wonderful new colours, and over the old wall they flew in troops and visited every flower. Best of all, they liked the nectar juice so much that they came again and again, and, fluttering here and there, they carried with them the golden pollen dust which was needed so much to help the seed babies grow.

"So, day by day, the flowers worked to keep a store of nectar juice, and day by day the bees and butterflies kept coming, until by and by the seed babies were ripe and plump and strong, and the fair rose queen knew the Garden Beautiful would remain as it had been—fresh and beautiful every year.

"And now," said the Lady Petunia, "my story is ended, and you know why it is that the flowers wear bright-coloured dresses.

"True, a few of them still wear white in memory of the fair rose queen, but by their perfume the bees and butterflies have learned that they keep sweet nectar juice for their friends and visit them just the same.

"Some of these white flowers bloom only at night when the bees and butterflies have gone to bed. But the little gray moths that flit about in the starlight know how sweet they smell, and visit them often—sipping their nectar and carrying the golden pollen dust from flower to flower."

To Everything There Is A Season

To every thing there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 King James Version of the Bible

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To everything there is a season, and thank the goddess this is the season for sprouting and flowering and planting and loving the sun! It is a time of parties and birthdays, new babies and new projects. How exciting!

In her Pagan Lent article, Waverly Fitzgerald talks about the wisdom of using the new growth energies of spring to catapult new changes in your life. People seem to do this unconsciously and we seem almost driven to try new things this time of year. I was at a party last night (my second or third party this week) and everyone was talking about their new projects. New jobs, new school, new careers, new boyfriends, new houses, new gardens. I have three new babies coming into my life in the next week or so, and new projects of my own both public and private.

The earth is getting ready for the great big outbreath of summer and plants are bursting forth with new growth. The difference between winter and spring in Portland is the presence of flowers and boy-howdy do we have flowers! The cherry blossoms have been out for a while and the daffodils and crocuses are at or past their peak, but others are showing up. Camellias, azaleas, magnolias, hyacinths, daffodils, apple blossoms, even some tulips in sheltered yards. I found mint, sheep sorrel, comfrey and a new spring onion growing in my favorite foraging grounds this week.

Just like last year I am spending this early part of the Seed Moon planning and planting my garden. I have expanded my garden to at least double what it was last year and already have a good solid plan for the early spring on paper. I realized last year that I grew too much lettuce and not enough greens for cooking so I'm halving the lettuce and doubling the turnips, mustards and beets. I'm also planning space for carrots, peas, beans and tomatoes. So exciting! Check out my photos from last year here to get a glimpse at what it will be like this year.

I'm already feeling a little stretched thin by this fantastic new energy and know that I need to continue giving myself enough down time to recover. Every year trees pool all their energy to explode forth in blossoms every spring before they even have leaves. What a crazy task! They know to take a break between blossoming and fruiting to recharge, and I need to keep that recharging part of the cycle happening in my life too.

What is starting new this spring for you? What flowers are you seeing? How do you recharge to be ready for all that spring and summer have to offer?

The Old Man Who Made The Trees Blossom

Many years ago on the island of Japan stood a beautiful little wooden house. It sat in a small garden in a farming village in the misty hills and had red ceramic roof tiles that kept the kind old man and woman who lived in it warm and dry all winter. It had a little entrance room where the old man and woman’s shoes were lined up, and tatami mats lining the floor of the cozy central room. Every day the good woman cooked rice and fish and vegetables for herself and the old man, and the kind old man tended the rice fields and vegetable garden to provide food for them both.

One rare clear day in late winter the kind old woman decided it was time to air out the blankets that covered the futon beds at night and her husband took advantage of the nice weather to look over the bare fruit trees in their garden. The weather stayed fine all morning and the kind old woman decided they should eat their lunch of cold steamed fish, sticky rice and hot tea in the garden. They were almost done with their meal, enjoying the cool sunshine when a small black and white dog trotted up the lane in front of their house. “What a handsome dog” the kind old man said, “Hello there, koinu. You look hungry, would you like to come have a little fish and some rice cakes?” he asked the dog. The little dog wagged its tail and trotted right up to the table. The dog ate his fill and was patted and petted all afternoon. The kind old man and woman loved him very much and decided he could live in their garden. They named him Shiro because of his handsome white face and made sure he always had good things to eat.

Shiro lived in the small garden next to the beautiful wooden house for a full year. During the summer he walked with the kind old man out to the rice fields and made the hard working men laugh with his antics chasing grasshoppers and field mice. In the autumn he rolled in the fallen leaves and made the kind old woman chuckle. In the winter they let him come into their house and keep warm by the cooking fire. It seemed like everything was perfect for Shiro and the kind old man and his wife, but there was one thing wrong. The kind old man and woman had neighbors who lived in small wooden house in a handsome little garden just the same as they did. The difference was that the neighbors were mean and greedy and they did not like Shiro. She mean old man threw stones at Shiro every time he saw the dog, and the greedy old woman refused to give him even scraps of food.

One day, in the late winter when the snow was starting to melt, the old man noticed Shiro sniffing and pawing at the frozen ground in the garden. He grabbed a shovel and went to see if Shiro needed any help. As he approached Shiro started barking and digging at spot among the fruit trees. “Do you need help digging, koinu? Here, let me help you.” He dug and dug while Shiro barked and barked until his shovel hit something in the soil and made a sharp clang. The kind old man kept digging until he unearthed a large pot all full of gold coins. He had never seen so much money in one place in his whole life! He showed his kind wife and they promptly bought a whole extra fish and plate of rice cakes to thank Shiro for leading them to the coins.



The mean old man next door had been watching the kind old man dig and saw when he pulled the pot of money out of the ground. He was jealous and wanted Shiro to help him find a pot of money in his garden. The next day he asked the kind old man if he could borrow Shiro. “Of course,” the kind old man answered, “You can borrow him if he will be of any use to you.” The mean old man led Shiro into his garden and demanded that the dog show him where gold was buried. Shiro sniffed around the garden, as dogs will do, but didn’t seem to be interested in digging. The old man yelled at Shiro and called him good-for-nothing until eventually Shiro started to dig at a spot under the mean old man’s fruit trees. “At last!” said the mean old man, “I will find a pot of gold just like my neighbors!” The old man shoved Shiro aside and began digging. He dug and dug but his shovel did not hit a hard pot filled with gold coins. He got angrier and angrier and started calling Shiro names again. Just then his shovel hit something that wasn’t dirt. It was a pile of stinking garbage. The old man was so angry he threw his shovel at Shiro and killed him.

When the kind old man came back that afternoon to collect his dog he found Shiro’s body under the bare fruit trees. He picked the little dog up to carry him home and wept in sadness. He and his wife mourned their little friend but did not blame the mean old man for his death. They decided to bury Shiro’s body under a small pine tree near their rice field, a place they remembered Shiro laying in the shade on hot summer days.

A magic thing happened then. They came to Shiro’s grave almost every day and watered the pine tree well with fresh water and their tears and in just a few weeks that small pine tree, which had been not much larger than the kind little old man himself, had grown into a very large tree.

One day, in late winter when the deer still gathered in the fields in the morning, the kind old man and his kind wife walked to the giant pine tree to water it. The kind old woman said to her husband “Remember how Shiro used to love rice cakes? He would sit up and beg for them when the village children had them, and he looked so pleased when he finally got some. We should cut down this pine tree and make a mortar out of it’s trunk so we can make more rice cakes for the village children.” The kind old man thought that was a good idea and set to work the very next morning to cut the tree and shape the mortar.

As he cut down the tree and scraped out the inside to shape the mortar the kind old thought about Shiro. He remembered all the times he had played with children, chased deer out of the fields, and made everyone laugh with his antics. When he was finished he gave it to his wife and she set the finished mortar on the paving stones in front of the house. The kind old woman filled it with steamed rice and began pounding it to make rice cakes. Something magic happened then. The rice turned into gold coins right in the mortar. The gold filled the mortar and spilled out onto the ground. She had never seen so much money in one place in his whole life! She showed her kind husband and they promptly bought oranges and candies for all the children in the village.

The mean old man next door had been watching the kind old woman pounding the mortar and saw when the coins spilled out onto the ground. He was jealous and wanted the mortar to turn rice into gold for him. The next day he asked the kind old man if he could borrow the mortar. “Of course,” the kind old man answered, “You can borrow it if it will be of any use to you.”

The mean old man took the mortar home and called to his greedy wife. “Wife! Make me a giant pot of steamed rice and I will turn it to gold. We will be even more rich than that simple neighbor of ours who spends all his money on the urchins who run in the street.” When the rice was done the mean old man poured the rice into the mortar and began pounding. He pounded and pounded but the rice did not turn to gold. He was getting angrier and angrier when the rice started to change. But it wasn’t gold, it changed into a pile of stinking garbage! The old man was so angry he picked up his hatchet and hacked the mortar into a hundred pieces. He piled the pieces up on the paving stones in front of his house and set them on fire. They burned down to a pile of smoldering ashes but the old man was still angry and jealous.

When the kind old man came back that afternoon to collect his mortar he found only a pile of ashes in front of his neighbor’s house. He swept the ashes into a basket and carried them home, weeping in sadness. He and his wife mourned their little friend all over again for the mortar had reminded them of Shiro, but did not blame the mean old man. They decided to scatter the ashes under the still winter bare cherry tree in their garden. That was where they had been sitting first met Shiro.

A magic thing happened then. As the kind old man and his wife spread the ashes around under the cherry tree a warm, spring breeze picked them up and swirled them all around the tree. When the kind old man and his wife wiped the ashes out of their eyes they saw the cherry tree in full blossom. It was so beautiful that everyone in the village came to see it. Whenever anyone praised the kind old man for taking care of his tree so well he always said “Oh, no, I didn’t do anything. It was the ashes of dear Shiro that made the tree so happy.”


News soon spread of the kind old man’s beautiful tree all the way to the larger town where a young prince lived. The prince took great pride in his garden but when he went to see the kind old man’s tree he realized he didn’t have anything so beautiful. He asked the kind old man if he would come to his garden and use whatever magic he had to make his cherry trees bloom so beautifully. The kind old man could not refuse so he gathered up the basket of ashes and followed the prince.

When they got to the prince’s garden the kind old man looked around at the beautiful shrubs, pathways and flower beds. He saw the lovely temple and the golden roof tiles on the palace roof. He noticed the large goldfish swimming in a pond near a bench. He said to the prince, “I’m sure my little dog Shiro would have loved to come visit your garden. It is such a beautiful place.” The prince replied “I would have loved to have him here. A little dog is always a pleasure to have in a garden.” Then the kind old man chose a large fruit tree next to a wooden bench, thinking Shiro would have loved to sit under such a tree and the old man climbed up the tree to a crook in the branches. He took a handful of the ashes and tossed them out towards the branch tips. A magic thing happened then. The wind swirled those ashes around the tree and when the prince and the old man wiped their eyes the tree was covered with beautiful cherry blossoms.

The prince was so happy with his flowering cherry tree that he couldn't stop praising the kind old man. “Oh, no, I didn’t do anything. It was the ashes of dear Shiro that made the tree so happy,” the kind old man insisted. The prince wouldn't accept that and declared that the kind old man should be called Hana-Saka-Jijii, or The Old Man Who Makes the Trees Blossom. The prince showered the old man with gifts of gold and silver and even offered to let him and his wife stay and live in the palace. Hana-Saka-Jijii replied “Thank you but I’d rather go home to my little wooden house near the rice fields where every tree reminds me of my beloved Shiro.”

Hana-Saka-Jijii and his kind wife were now very rich and lived long lives. They returned to their beautiful little wooden house in a small garden with red ceramic roof tiles. They went back to their little entrance room with their shoes lined up by the door, and their tatami mats that lined the floor of the cozy central room. They were loved and respected by all their neighbors and their cherry trees blossomed every spring into the most beautiful trees in the world. Every spring they looked into the garden next door belonging to the mean old man and his greedy wife and felt sad that their cherry trees never blossomed.

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This is my own interpretation and re-writing of a traditional Japanese Fairy Tale. You can view other versions at these sites:

A version retold by Alton Chung at the Spirit of Trees website.

A version from Yei Theodora Ozaki's Japanese Fairy Tales (1908) posted on the Florida State University literature clearing house. You can view it as a text, a pdf or download and MP3 of the story! Check out their main site here for thousands of other classic literature stories.

A visually beautiful version of the story found on http://www.archive.org/ You can view an electronic version of the original printed book as a pdf or a webpage. This is these illustrations came from.

There are many other versions to be found line. Google "the old man who made the trees blossom" and you'll have more versions than you know what to do with.

Enjoy!