Category Archives: Garden

Spring Rolls Over in Bed, Goes Back to Sleep

Winter                                                                     Seed Catalog Moon

On occasion now my eye drifts out to our raised beds mounded with snow, our fruit trees 06 05 10_wisteriaandfriend670asleep and bare, the bee hive.  It has begun, that quickening, the part that knows even these low, low temperatures will not hold off the approaching spring.

The bees need checking, to see if they’ve survived the winter, but it’s just been too cold.  At some point Javier will come out and prune the orchard.  Seeds and plants must get ordered.  Mostly now though there is that still young feeling, the quickening.

Perhaps it has always been so in the temperate climates.  Perhaps this sense of delight, not really eagerness, but palpable change, is part of what caused the Celts to celebrate Imbolc, the next Great Wheel holiday.  It celebrates the freshening of the ewes and the triple goddess, Brigit, of hearth, forge and poetry.  Perhaps this is all part of the waking up.

Pagans, I’m increasingly unhappy with this word, but can’t think of a better one, have our 10002012 05 12_4288great waking up morning every spring.  We don’t have to wait for the apocalypse, the fallow time of fall and winter is enough for us.  The greening comes with the joy of life triumphant, life resurrected, life everlasting.

No, this isn’t cabin fever, not yet.  It’s an awareness, a tickle, perhaps a single blade of grass brushing against my foot.  But, it’s a start.

 

 

The Inner Journey

Winter                                                            Seed Catalog Moon

At Michaelmas the soul turns inward, following the darker path occasioned by the rising length of the night and the dwindling of the day.  By Samhain that turn is well underway and the work of the study gains dominance as the outdoor work diminishes like the sunlight.  At the Winter Solstice the deep center of the interior work has been reached. The work of the interior fully alive.

Now in the New Year that darkness nourishes writing, translating, creation of new projects.  And, too, a portion of the soul begins to move outward, gathering in the seed catalogs, plotting the garden yet to be.

These two movements, inward and outward, reinforce or provoke our natural tendencies. Those of us on the introverted side welcome the coming of the dark, the movement down the corridors leading away from the light.  The extroverts gladly follow the sun up those same corridors, headed toward the day.

The turning of the Great Wheel does not allow us to become too comfortable in either spot, reminding us throughout the year that both the interior and the exterior are important; that both have their nuances and richness.

Some of us will continue to wander those labyrinths within even as the Summer Solstice dawns, while others even now see the rays of sun bouncing off the labyrinth’s walls.

(hades and persephone)

Ancientrails The GreatWheel

Winter                                                       New Seed Catalog Moon

I’ve begun to mull a second blog, one that would focus on the Greatwheel, dividing its posts into 8 seasons:  Samhain, Winter, Imbolc, Spring, Summer, Lughnasa, Fall and Samhain.

Over the course of those seasons I would write a beginning piece for the season as I do now on Ancientrails, but then continue through that season posting thematically about the season, holidays in that time period, special days of the year, phrenology, gardening, environmental and climate matters, probably some astronomy and archaeo-astronomy.  I would include myths pertinent to the season, too.  Perhaps some I’ve translated from the Latin.

This appeals to me because I’ve tried to lever myself into a theological treatise on the my neopagan faith, but the idea has never taken off.  I think the notion is too abstract and the fact of this tactile, coarse spirituality, one that gets its hands dirty as an act of devotion, lends itself better to this kind of over the course of the year exposition.

Any feedback anyone might have would be welcome.  Ancientrails would continue. It’s a well ingrained habit at this point.  If I decide to start, Imbolc, February 1st, would be a good time.

2014 Intentions

Winter                                                         New (Seed Catalog) Moon
Having presented a prod toward humility and non-attachment here are some of my intentions and hopes for the New Year:

1.  A healthy and joyful family (including the dogs)

2. Sell Missing

3. Have substantial work done on Loki’s Children

4. Translate at least book one and two of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

5. Have a productive garden and orchard, beautiful flowers

6. Host a Beltane and a Samhain bonfire to open and close the growing season

7. Establish a new beeyard and have a decent honey harvest

8. Have a new and consistent way to include art in my life

9. Consider a new blog focused solely on the Great Wheel and the Great Work

10. Feed the autodidact with a few more MOOCs

2013: Second Quarter

Winter                                                            Winter Moon

The first day of the second quarter, April 1st, is Stefan’s birthday and was a gathering of the Woolly’s at the Red Stag.  I made this note: “Here we are seen by each other.  Our deep existence comes with us, no need for the chit-chat and polite conversation of less intimate gatherings.  The who that I am within my own container and the who that I am in the outer world come the closest to congruence at Woolly meetings, a blessed way of being exceeded only in my relationship with Kate.”

The “doing work only I can do” thought kept returning, getting refined: “With writing, Latin and art I have activities that call meaning forward, bringing it into my life on a daily basis, and not only brought forward, but spun into new colors and patterns.” april 2 On the 13th this followed:  “Why is doing work only I can do important to me?  Mortality.  Coming at me now faster than ever.  Within this phase of my whole life for sure.  Individuation.  It’s taken a long time to get clear about who and what I’m for, what I’m good at and not good at.  Now’s the time to concentrate that learning, deepen it.”

The best bee year we’ve had started on April 16th with discovering the death of the colony I thought would survive.  While moving and cleaning the hive boxes, I wrenched back and the pain stayed with me.  That same day the Boston Marathon bombing happened.  In addition to other complicated feelings this simple one popped up:  “The most intense part of my initial reaction came when I realized what those feelings meant, the emptiness and the sadness and the vacuum.  They meant I am an American.  That this event was about us, was done to us.”

Another theme of this quarter would be my shoulder, perhaps a rotator cuff tear, perhaps nerve impingement caused by arthritis in my cervical vertebrae.  Maybe some post-polio misalignment.  But over the course of the quarter with a good physical therapist it healed nicely.

Kate went on a long trip to Denver, driving, at this time, for Gabe and Ruth’s birthdays. While she was out there teaching Ruth to sew, Ruth asked her, “Why did you become a doctor instead of a professional sewer?”  When Kate is gone, the medical intelligence of our house declines precipitously.  That means doggy events can be more serious.

Kona developed a very high fever and I had to take her to the emergency vet.  She had a nodule on her right shoulder which we identified as cancerous.  This meant she had to have it removed.  At this point I was moving her (a light dog at maybe 40 pounds) in and out of the Rav4 with some difficulty because of my back.

This was the low point of the year as Kona’s troubles and my back combined to create a CBE (1)dark inner world.  The day I picked Kona up from the Vet after her surgery was cold and icy, but my bees had come in and I had to go out to Stillwater to get them, then see my analyst, John Desteian.  That day was the nadir.  I was in pain and had to go through a lot of necessary tasks in sloppy slippery weather.  That week Mark Odegard sent me this photograph from a while ago Woolly Retreat.

By the end of the month though Kate was back and April 27th:  “Yes!  Planted under the planting moon…”

For a long time I had wanted to apply my training in exegesis and hermeneutics to art and in this time period I decided to do it.  In the course of researching this idea I found I was about 50 years late since the Frankfurt School philosophers, among them, Gadamer and Adorno, had done just that.  Still, I patted myself on the back for having thought along similar lines.

Over the last year Bill Schmidt, a Woolly, and I have had dinner before we play sheepshead in St. Paul.  His wife, Regina, died a year ago September.  “Bill continues to walk straight in his life after Regina’s death, acknowledging her absence and the profound effect it has had on his life, yet he reports gratitude as his constant companion.”

By April 29th the back had begun to fade as an issue: “Let me describe, before it gets away from me, submerged in the always been, how exciting and uplifting it was to realize I was walking across the floor at Carlson Toyota.  Just walking.”

Kate and I had fun at Jazz Noir, an original radio play performed live over KBEM.

In my Beltane post on May 1st I followed up my two sessions with John Desteian:  “John Desteian has challenged me to probe the essence of the numinous.  That is on my mind.  Here is part of that essence.  The seed in the ground, Beltane’s fiery embrace of the seed, the seed emerging, flourishing, producing its fruit, harvest.  Then, the true transubstantiation, the transformation of the bodies of these plants into the body and blood ourselves.”

Then on May 6th, 5 months into my sabbatical from the MIA:  “The third phase requires pruning.  Leaving a job or a career is an act of pruning.  A move to a smaller home is an act of pruning.  Deciding which volunteer activities promote life and which encumber can proceed an act of pruning.  Last year I set aside my political work with the Sierra Club.  Today I have set aside my work at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts.”  That ended 12 years of volunteer work.

“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life.”

Jean Shinoda Bolen 

It was also in May of this year that Minnesota finally passed the Gay marriage bill.  Gave me hope.

May 13 “Sort of like attending my own funeral.   All day today notes have come in from docent classmates responding to my resignation from the program.”  During this legislative session, I again became proud to be a Minnesotan.

As the growing season continued:  “If you want a moment of intense spirituality, go out in the morning, after a big rain, heat just beginning to soak into the soil, smell the odor of sanctity…”

On May 22nd the Woolly’s gathered to celebrate, with our brother Tom, the 35th year of his company, Crane Engineering.  The celebration had something to do with a crystal pyramid.  At least Stefan said so.

A cultural highlight for the year was the Guthrie’s Iliad, a one person bravura performance by veteran actor, Stephen Yoakam.

Friend and Woolly Bill Schmidt introduced me to High Brix gardens.  I decided to follow their program to create sustainable soils and did so over the course of the growing season. I got good results.

Our new acquaintance Javier Celis, who did a lot of gardening work for us over the year, also finished up our firepit and we had our first fire in it on June 7th.  It was not the last.

On June 12th Rigel came in with a small pink abrasion on her nose.  She had found and barked, barked, barked, barked at a snapping turtle.  Kate removed the turtle from our property.  The turtle came back, hunting I believe, for a small lake not far from us in which to lay her eggs.  The next time Rigel and Vega still barked, from a safe distance.

And on Father’s Day: “Is there anything that fills a parent’s heart faster than hearing a child light-hearted, laughing, excited?  Especially when that child is 31.”

During her visit her in late June grand-daughter Ruth went with me on a hive inspection: “She hung in there, saying a couple of times, “Now it’s making me really afraid.” but not moving away.”

My favorite technology story came on June 27th when NASA announced that one of the Voyager spacecrafts would soon leave the heliosphere, the furthest point in space where the gases of the sun influence matter.  This meant it would then be in interstellar space.

And, as Voyager entered the Oort cloud Tom and Roxann made their way Svalbard and the arctic circle.  Thus endeth the second quarter.

 

 

The Garden in Winter

Samhain                                                         Thanksgiving Moon

Went outside this afternoon.  Something I do less and less as the cold time deepens.  The IMAG1160dogs’ paths stand out now with fallen leaves on either side of bare ground.  It’s possible to see to the far southern fence of our property through the woods, impossible during the growing season.

Checked the cardboard sleeve for the bees.  It’s fallen down and I had to prop it up.  I may staple it.  I wanted to avoid that because thumping sounds inside the hive tend to activate defense on the part of the colony and I don’t want to wear a veil.  But, I might do it anyhow.

The mulching, leaves, that I put down in the vegetable garden, partly as a weed suppressor and partly for soil nutrition, have blown off from the asparagus patch, the sun trap and the herb spiral.  We have more leaves and tomorrow I’m going to remulch those areas while I put down the mulch over the newly planted bulbs.  The soil has frozen so this is the time. IMAG0746 It’s also best to get it done before the snow falls and it looks like we may have snow next week.  At least I hope so.

When that’s done, the outside garden work is over for the winter with one exception: pruning the fruit trees.  We’re going to have Javier come in and do it since it’s a specialized skill and we’d like to get them on the right path.

This winter will find me outside, out back more than usual.  At least that’s the plan. Pruning the forest, building up cut wood stores for future bonfires.  Creating yet another beeyard.  I have a new pair of gloves, a new chain and a new bar on the Jonsered, so I’m ready.  I’ve got my felling and limbing axes, too, and I plan to cut down some trees the old-fashioned way.  I’ll limb most of them with the limbing ax.  Safer than using the chain saw.

 

The Seasonal Turn

Samhain                                            Thanksgiving Moon

Waiting now on the soil to freeze so I can lay down mulch.  One of the odder parts of gardening, putting the blanket on after the bed goes cold.  Planting garlic in September is another oddity.  Both make sense, but they are counter-intuitive.  Mulch over bulbs, especially newly planted bulbs, guards against frost-heaves in the spring, displacing bulbs, throwing them closer to the surface than desired.  Garlic, like tulips and crocus and daffodils, needs a cold winter to prepare itself for the spring.  They’re both fall planting.

(Anatomy_of_a_Frost_Heave)

Getting the mail from our mailbox out on the road requires dressing up.  I put on my down coat for the journey a moment ago.  Watch cap and gloves, too.  My jeans let the cold right through to my legs, but legs are hardier than feet and torso and hands, more willing to put up with the chill.  The top of this head, long a follicle desert, also demands covering. In the summer sun and the winter cold.  Burning or freezing.

We look outside at the garden, the orchard, the bees.  There is some winter interest there, grasses and flower stems, the bare trees and in our particular case the evergreen cedars, our planted white pines and norway pines, colorado blue spruce, but we admire them from within, no longer carried out among them with trowels and spades.  Our work out there is, for the most part, finished until April.

The turn of work goes inward, work we can do at home.  Kate will sew, do needlepoint, quilt.  We both will read and watch movies.  I’ll write, translate, take a class or two.

Waiting also for snow and the transformation of our world.  It’s one of the delights of living here.

Upset the Apple Tree

Samhain                                                  Thanksgiving Moon

After the heavy snow a week or so ago, I looked out and saw that the bee hive had snow IMAG0929and some leaves on its top.  Odd, I thought, but didn’t go out to investigate.  Our orchard, where the bee hive is, is visible from our kitchen.

Today I went out to hitch up the cardboard sleeve which had slid down to the ground and attach it firmly for the winter.  That snow and some leaves on the bee hive was one of of our apple trees.  It had tipped over from the weight of the snow and landed on the bees.

(It was the tree beyond the bee hive in this picture.)

I cranked it back to vertical, tied it off to the fence with some plastic coated dog leads and realized it would require some more soil and some compacting before the snow flies, probably this week.

The bees now have their winter protection.  The garage is on the way toward reorganization, too.  I spent an hour and a half or so doing this and that, glad to get out of the chair, even though it is a Miller Aeron.

More Latin later.  Translating Lycaon from the Latin while I push the story through different paces in Dramatica.  That’s fun.

I also started reading Robert Silliman’s Alphabet.  He’s a language poet and this is a series of riffs beginning with each of the letters of the alphabet.  It’s a very big book.

(Zeus and Lycaon in Wedgewood)

 

Good-Bye Garden. See You On the Flipside.

Samhain                                                          Thanksgiving Moon

The transition from growing season to fallow season creates a sudden release from one IMAG0604domain of chores.  No more spraying, harvesting, weeding, checking the health of the plants.  No more colony inspections.

Many baby boomers, the paper says, have migrated to downtown apartments citing outdoor work and home maintenance as primary motivation.  While that once might have made sense to me, now I wonder.  The outdoor work, as long as I’m able, keeps me active, close to the rhythms of the natural world.  It gives more than it takes.  Cut off from it in an apartment doesn’t sound appealing.  If you don’t like it, if it takes more than it gives, then, yes.

I know that feeling. Home maintenance would take far more than it gives if I felt IMAG0944 Kate and me1000croppedresponsible for doing it myself.  So I can understand wanting to move away from that.  In an apartment the building takes over the plumbing, the furnace, the windows, the doors. Even there, however, being responsible for seeing that the maintenance gets done, though it does feel burdensome, maintains our agency.  And I like that.

More than any of these matters, though, is the single word home.  This is home.  Though we could, I don’t want to create another one.  At least not now.

Let It Snow

Samhain                                                                     New (Thanksgiving) Moon

A quiet, wet night with the temperature already at 33.  A snow storm is in the prediction for tomorrow night.  We’re ready for it and I’d like to see it.  It would tamp down the leaves we used for mulch, help them stay in place.

Early snow cover, though this would not be it, serves as good a purpose as mulch for keeping the ground cold.  Yes, paradoxical as it seems, that nice blanket of leaves or straw or a snow mound works to prevent frost heaves in the often violent temperature shifts as winter ends.  Those shifts can literally uproot plants, destroy just begun growth.  So, you want to keep the bed cold and let it thaw out gradually.