Boxes
I recently received 6 large-ish boxes of stuff I had stored back in BC from my Mom. While I had given her something of a list of what I wanted sent out, I knew that for the most part be a gab-bag off whatever she could cram into a box. A couple of books, some clothes wrapped around a few knick knacks … that kind of thing. All shoved in the box (somewhat) willy-nilly and packed as tightly as possible.
One box she had labelled “Caution contains liquid, this side up!” but I didn’t find any vessel containing liquid, though I did find vessels. So I decided I had better wash everything just in case.
Among the varied box contents were some favourite (and not so favourite) books, including two of the gigantic “Encyclopaedia of” books written by Judika Illes. As you may know those books are massive and shipping boxes go by weight!
Also found in the boxes are the rest of my herbalism gear, including jars full of dried herbs. Suddenly a jar full of yarrow was more than a jar full of yarrow; it was a little piece of home. Like Sam and his box of salt… Continue reading
A Walk
From my Journal
January 2009. Misty Acres, near Greenwood, British Columbia:
My little plastic children’s sled, which is the colour of a perfect summer sky, slices into the snow with a slippery, rustling, skittering sound that repeats with each foot step. Sssshhhhhhhkthh … Sssshhhhhhhkthh
I lean forward into my momentum, gripping the black cord around my waist for added strength and stability. My black boots slip into the layer of fresh powder snow to shin deep before finding the hard packed stuff beneath.
My breath puffs out before me, like a steam engine. Falling snow finds its way into my eyes every time I glance up, leaving me half blind. I do not need to see. My feet know their way along this narrow path from my mother’s home to mine.
Along the long driveway past the horse pasture, then a sharp turn off the ploughed area and onto my little trail in the winter landscape. Then I scramble my way up the first bend on the steep incline of the mountain. I am bathed in moonlight; on my left side is the slope of an alpine meadow, to my right the forest pushes in close to my trail.
Upon… Continue reading
To Fly By Night
Hoofprints in the Wildwood
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