February 4 2023 Work Party

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” –Desmond Tutu

Thank you for being the light, my dear ones, and a wellspring of hope.

January 28 2023 Work Party

Thistle and yellow arch angel and reed canary grass and Himalayan blackberry. Beautiful plants from other ecosystems who have found their way to ours and managed to disturb the balance of here. We clip, dig, and pull against loss of biodiversity and habitat, dirt on gaiters and layers and foreheads, snags on sweaters, connection vibrating the space between us. Himalayan blackberry roots resist our removal efforts, breaking under the soil, absconding with the energy required to push up new shoots at some later time. Tiny spiders, deep rusty orange with two stripes ringing their abdomens, scrabble across mounds of soil that must seem like mountains, a woolly bear curls defensively in my hand, everyone ferried to the safety of a gently weeping Western Red Cedar. On a field trip past the corner of the neighbor’s chain link fence, we slip by the adolescent conifer trees that stand between us and the beyond onto a bed of laid-down reed canary grass, and tears viscerally rise up as I gaze upon Himalayan blackberry brambles as far as the eye can see. This time hope comes in the form of your openness to coming back to face the brambles with me for as long as it takes. Together is the only way I know to do this.

January 16 2023 Work Party MLK Jr Day of Service

“Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”

–Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., speaking before the Ebenezer Baptist Church in 1968

It was an honor to serve alongside you. Thank you with every part of my being.

January 7 2023 Work Party

Cut English hawthorn hauled. Cozy rooms carved out of a tangle of Himalayan blackberry. Wondering who might dwell under a small mound of decaying wood. We met here in this new year, full of possibility, under the blessed, wondrous rain, to give each other the gift of being alive together.

December 17 2022 Work Party

A Benediction

“May the roots of suffering diminish. May warfare, violence, neglect, indifference, and addiction also decrease.

May the wisdom and compassion of all beings increase, now and in the future.

May we clearly see all the barriers we erect between ourselves and others to be as insubstantial as our dreams.

May we appreciate the great perfection of all phenomena.

May we continue to open our hearts and minds, in order to work ceaselessly for the benefit of all beings.

May we go to the places that scare us.

May we lead the life of a warrior.” 

–Pema Chödrön, from The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times

And a song for you.

Happy winter, my friends, and a restful end of 2022 to you and yours.

December 3 2022 Work Party

Most of the English hawthorn in our original restoration area has been cut down – thank you Quinn! – to make way for a planned planting this spring. We clipped, sawed, and hauled tree limbs in wheelbarrows, as many as two hearts and four hands could, through beautiful white snow. Red berries dropped like jewels into sparkling cold puddles. Birds revealed their presence through song. Falling clumps of wet snow sprung branches into oscillations that reverberated the silence around us, the smell of wood smoke hung in the air. A small white dog bound through snow yipping with the pleasure of being alive, a human chasing behind. Little snow people a witness to it all.

November 25 2022 Work Party (three years)

A song for us. We belong together — for these past three years, for many more. For always.

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We had a special guest at our third anniversary work party — constant, steady, wonderful, life sustaining rain. We felt the drumming of ki on hoods and hats, watched water meet wetland, observed ki seeking Swamp Creek in sinuous, braided strands over grass and rock and mud. All the while, clippers and shovels met blackberry canes and earth, carving out space for hidden ferns holding on and exiled plants we will one day invite back. Robins skittered across wet earth, snails nestled in the reed canary grass. It was wet and cold, and it was good.