10.7.15 Full of the sudden turning

     Because it is a day of daunting responsibilities, I take leave of the dishes waiting in the sink, to go sit outside, and harvest the patiently waiting Skullcap, a remarkable herb for the nervous system. I sit in the warm sun, as my dear old friend the Aster comes to it's fruition, no energy to stake their 6' stalks up this year, so the branches are laying low across the ground, some breaking under the weight of the ripening. Still, there is an enormous community of bees of all kinds, happily and y feeding, the noise so loud.  

     Up on the shed, within the Sassafras tree, and up on the house, there are the conversational groups of this year's Sparrow , young ones, all puffy and babyish. They all are having interchanges about their tiny birdhouses, which I cleaned and replaced dry grasses in, and then pushed stalks of bamboo into, so that there is perching room for more, come the cold winds of winter. I'll find time to stick something over the ventilation hole that are of no need in cold weather. Of course, it has taken them a full week of discussion and disturbed sense of place, to finally find the courage to bob in and out of their reconfigured homes, and begin to feel comfortable.

     In the meantime, as I trim the herb plants, placing the cuttings in my basket, I notice the hubub up beneath the eaves of the house, and realize there is a HOLE there in the roof, and the young Sparrows are exploring, because somewhere inside of them, they have the sense that the cold will be coming soon. I decide not to tell Kevin now, but wait til spring, as there is nothing for it, with everything going on. Hoping no squirrel discovers and enlarges and moves in. They explore the nest that sits over an outside light, beneath the eaves, popping their small heads out of the holes, going on and on about it for about an hour. 

     Out behind the house, the towering Oak has once again fostered Maitake, two beautiful plants emerging in the last few days. I've been watching, as this is an annual event, and in years past I would make flower essence, then cook, then tincture, and often give away the Maitake extract. Now, it is a primary tool for my husband, very complementary with chemo, a remarkable herbs for building up white blood cell counts and immune function and many other things. 

     Along the stone wall, the chipmunks have reproduced at remarkable rates, something the coyote and hawks and weasel will be enthused about. Yesterday I'd returned from bringing Dante for a walk, and had opened my car door, was sitting in the sun for a moment. I spied the young Broadwing Hawk that made it through the winter as a yearling last year, often coming to my feeder table to chow down on doves. They have chosen not to migrate again, are sitting in the low branches of a pine across the street. Suddenly they swoop over the front lawn to the stone wall, just missing a young unsuspecting chipmunk, and fly right in front to me, maybe 15 feet away. I sit, gazing at them, seeing so much from this vantage point, my feathered neighbor.

     As all the chipmunks in the land chip chip chip away in protest.
     It is a beautiful warm fall day, full of the sudden turning of leaves all across the hills, the mycelium bursting forth all across the forest, the earth moving right along in it's orbit, as we adapt and adapt once again.