#steemeditate

Things continue to continue in this new kitchen garden. For example, the pole bean above is getting all kinds of fancy with about a dozen flower wands blooming at once. Speaking as a bush bean familiar,

Cheyenne Purple tomato flower As Voltaire says through his character Candide, "I will tend my garden." It has been a hard pull to reclaim this rectangle from the invasion of Bermuda grass, but

Quiescent but not acquiescent, Curled tightly inside a rough brown corm The soil is my bed Not asleep, not dead I shelter in place Muffled damp beneath the surface Silently gathering myself into myself

A tree child in the Children's Forest with a halo of sunlight, in a pool of nourishing snow. A wayward cone rolled here, or a creature buried its seed like forgotten treasure, to grow. The lifeline of

Sometimes it takes a dustbath to come clean. The ebb of the everyday, to experience wonder. Sometimes it takes a lowdown roll in sad to properly process all that gratitude. Dust buddies offer silent

Boaz and Jachim are represented by this pair of wine bottles, Vin Noir and Vin Blanc. I will top them with silvertone stoppers upon completion. The High Priestess medicine bag is coming along, slowly but

Build a wall, and make the chickens pay for it! It seems paradoxical that sometimes to preserve integrity, we "gotta keep 'em separated," as Offspring sang. Up until a couple of weekends ago,

Like water in the desert, knowledge quenches my unbearable thirst for understanding. Today for #SteeMeditate, I decided to write down this thing that has been rattling around my cranial echo chamber since

Today I began my work on the High Priestess medicine bag by giving a Tarot reading to a friend. Clairvoyance and accessing the Collective Consciousness. She is an artist and a single mom, recently relocated,

Nothing else cleanses like fire. All the bills and redundant documents: Put them in the burn barrel. All the old homework and the resentment of quizzes: Put them in the burn barrel. Prune the expired wands

I woke up this morning crampy and cranky, but my beloved reminded me I had plans to meet up with my lover, the Whitewater Preserve. Matterdome looms above the park, its rainwater capture pockets dark with