I stumbled into the intersection of culture and commerce last week. A late-model shiny black Mercedes SUV came slowly down my farm lane just after the farm opened on Sunday evening. A fifty-something man drove; a younger man sat next to him. In the back seat, her face barely visible underneath a head scarf, a woman sat next to a small baby.. . .
Sometimes as the soft glow of sunrise
lightly touches a waking world,
I go to my garden, hoe in hand,
To deftly slice the roots of weeds
My soul drinks in
air fresh with the morning,
daybreak's exuberant bird song,
and the pastel colors that wash the sky.
I feel the expectancy of the sun,
calling . . .
Gamble or gambol?
I did not see the raccoon when I lifted the stainless steel tub to fill it with fresh water. I did notice how easily the stainless steel tub held water compared to flexible heavy rubber tub we had been using. Another small detail to make the daily chores easier, I said to myself.
When I placed the tub with fresh water on the floor, a . . .
Focusing on land, the atmosphere and the flow between them.
The Baltimore Project, 2018
A close friend is leading efforts to reduce violence in Baltimore, Maryland, the city that my heart holds dear. To reduce violence, many focus their efforts on people. What if we shift our focus from people to the land beneath our feet, to the atmosphere that encircles the city, and to the breath . . .
A Winter Solstice Reflection
When our outer world is darkest, we can see more clearly the light that moves subtly in, around and through us. As a gardener, I am becoming aware of different streams that nourish the seeds of light held deep in our hearts.
In a gathering at Christmas in 1923, philosopher Rudolf Steiner shared the Foundation Stone Meditation, a . . .
At a Drum Circle to Honor the Ancestors
“Did you get any pictures?”asked one woman after the drum circle ended. No, I replied. I had been so moved by the event, that I did not want to step away from it. I will describe the event for you.
The farm holds a Drum Circle to Honor the Ancestors in our large barn on the first Saturday in November. The barn's . . .
On Sunday, a close friend arrived with another friend early afternoon. She had said she would drive to the farm after church, if she was able. This was the last really warm day: frost was predicted for Tuesday morning. Then the flowers would wilt with the frost and fade. These two women, both octogenarians, were blossoming in their . . .