Walking the Hedge » pets

Camping

Juniper — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 04:05:01 +0000

Went to Whispering Pines with the girls.

Stayed in the big cabin.

Swam naked in the lake in October.

Played with clay.

Celebrated Autumn and the harvest and gave thanks.

Built a nice fire.

Played games.

Ate lots of food.

Said bon voyage to a friend. Crash was there too.

Now I have to … Zzzzzzzzz …

To Catch a Cat

Juniper — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 21:08:55 +0000

This is the afgan that I have been working on for ever. All it really needs is to be bordered, fringed and blocked. Blarney goes underneath it and “hides”

To Tread Lightly

Juniper — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 06:25:37 +0000

I wash myself in the river.

As I do so I murmur quietly. I have learned the power of words. I give it voice. Using my breath. Vibration.

I wash myself in the river. The cool water runs down my legs and arms and neck. Though the hem of my skirt is tucked up into my waistband it still gets wet. My hair is the color of clotted blood when it is damp and under a night sky, it drips river water down my back. It is not dirt that I remove with the water … but it is swept away by the current nonetheless.

Crash paddles to me, returning from her attempts to follow the offering tossed in the river as they floated away. She gives me a look that says “Why the hell are you throwing sticks and bits of plants into the river if I’m not to chase them?”

I laugh and beckon her to follow me unto the shore. My sandals make squelching sounds as I work my way up the river bank.

I come to a tunnel of vegetation that runs parallel to the river. One side is the weeded and wooded river bank, the other a hodgepodge hedgerow. Through the tunnel, a little beyond it, stand three sister hawthorns. I have no need of visualization techniques tonight. I have a living model to work with.

I slip out of my wet sandals. My feet come upon the earth plainly, nothing between us and unadorned. The prickle of grass under my soles. Night cooled soil. The rough of a rock. I dig in, dig down. Dig deep. I do not move. I breathe.

Crash quiets beside me and sits. She waits. My experienced dance partner.

I close my eyes. I suck air in and then out again. Slowly in through my nose and then forcing it out fast. Completely. Again. Full and empty, full and empty. Again. A few more times.

I open my eyes and step forward. Slowly and with great care given to my step. Fully and firmly setting my foot down upon the earth. Slow. Careful and conscious. Precision. I breath slowly and deeply. As slowly and deeply as I can.

I walk. My arms reach out. Finger tips and palms brush against the vegetation. I tip my head back. I view my goal, the end of the tunnel, looking downwards and over my nose.

I slip one foot across the earth, lifting it lightly but maintaining contact. Planting the foot fully, firmly. Shifting weight. It might look like a yoga pose to the uninitiated.

I shift my weight forward. I lift the other foot, maintaining contact. Planting the foot fully, firmly beside its twin. Then it slips forward, across the earth.

Slowly. Painfully. Gradually.

I push forward. I breathe. Something builds. I push against it. I push through it. Like walking in a sea of mildly electrified jelly. It starts so softly, it builds from below me and trembles through me. I push against it. I push through it. I walk, Crash at my heels. By the time I near my goal it is as if I might drown.

I know how to tread water.

I breathe. I walk. It is only about a dozen steps. It is a far greater distance than that.

I slip through. The last step leaving me feeling like a greased pig slipping through a farmer’s grasp. Momentum, though I moved so slowly.

I reach the end of the little tree tunnel in my local park. I step through. It is like taking a long air plane ride, walking through an airport and stepping out into a climate the opposite of your own. It smacks you in the face and drives the breath from your lungs.

I come to standstill. I close my eyes. I suck in air. I relax my body. I open my eyes and tilt my head back down.

The land thrums with power. My body throbs in response. Energy ripples through me. There is pressure. Heightened senses. Contrast and sharpness.

I gaze at the trio of hawthorns sanding under moonlight and urban light pollution as the city sleeps. Some tiny light flickers amongst the branches. Seen and then unseen. A dark shadow moves behind one tree.

More than trance.

Things unseen are now seen, or at least sensed.

I stride towards the trees. Under hawthorns that sing of the strength of the land … and of roots and of the anticipation of autumn. Branches reach out and meet over my head, roots twine together under my bare feet. The dog lays down just outside and sighs.

I greet the trio of hawthorns and they greet me. They sing though I do not hear with my ears.

With my heart, my body, my soul.

I pick up my tambourine.

Meanwhile, at Misty Acres

Juniper — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 02:33:22 +0000

Mom is teaching the horses how to levitate.

Click for full size

Meet Sir Kinght

Juniper — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 23:08:00 +0000

Say hello to sir knight. He is a suit of armour, in miniature. He stands a little under knee high. Sir knight was won by Brendan at a Bardic competition at some point. Even Bren agrees that somebody lives in sir knight. I dunno exactly what he is … just some random little brownie or something. *shrug* He seemed nice enough.

He hangs out in the entryway, the hub of the apartment, keeping an eye on everything.

He gets knocked over sometimes.

At some point I started calling him sir knight. He gets a beer to himself now and then, and the odd heel of bread or bit of cheese, usually when we’re having the good stuff. I pat his head, especially as we come and go, this is something I’ve seen a few different people to do. He’s also gotten time spent with a view out the window (once also with a nice microbrew local beer).

One day Bren brought home a fake Hawaiian lei from work and I put it on sir knight as a joke. He loved it and didn’t want me to take it off. He got a new one for Imbolg. If you’re throwing a party, or having a ritual, wouldn’t you also invite the spirits who live in your house?

He’s kept clean and so is his spot. The animals seem to know to leave him be, thought the kitten did knock him over once, he never did it again. When sir knight falls down, it’s loud.

For this, his job is to quietly keep and eye on things and give us a nudge if something isn’t right. As well as to mind the pets … and also to tolerate them.

I have something of a relationship with this little spirit. You can call me crazy, I know I’m talking about the woooo stuff.

Anyways, I’ve decided to offer him another spirit house. The mini suit of armour belongs to Bren, but I’m thinking sir knight might want to stay with me. But what can possibly compete with a miniature suit of armour? That I could afford? Hmmmmm… You can get the little suits of armour on ebay, they’re pretty affordable.

Also would it be considered unethical to try to keep sir knight? If he chose to move to the new spirit house and stay with me, it would be totally consensual on his part. But what about Bren, can he claim ownership of the little spirit inside the suit of armour? (He’s out of town, so I haven’t asked him)

What say you?

Wordless Wednesday: Spinning

Juniper — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 17:01:55 +0000