rolling black storms deliver huge drinks of water  direct from the source interrupted by sunshine  warmth and growth.

they are a perfect companion piece.

the pattern of storm wind and deluge, the pattern of sun and green, bright green irish green fertile green, the sort of green that nurtures us in a  primal way .

the forest dips it branches in submission and gulps delicately of the essence offered.

the island in the dam is barely visible and there is no room in the water tank  for more.

who will light the candle for the goddess ? who will offer their deep appreciation for this shower of generosity?

call it just rain, call it just a storm ?? call it anything you like but at least acknowledge the presence of ‘other’  behind it.

the goddess called and I answered.

I bathed in rose petals in a full to the brim bath.

the candle lit on the altar, the incense mocking the breezes of the house.

I danced into the song of life into the rain and sunshine into glory and abundance with utter abandon freely wildly devotedly .

no one to watch no one to care.

just the odd skink gliding past rustling around

and the odd skippety skip of grey thrush hopping across the verandah and  little wallaby stopping to stare. just the odd comings and goings of house garden and forest.

I plunged back into the warm bath carrying the rain and forest and exuberance of energy raised.

no one to pass comment to wonder to shake their heads .

just me and her.

the bath and the storm.

how wild she is how bold she plays.

and yet how few answer her these days or even know of her existence .

it is all god god god or something called atheism

which seems to imply belief in market forces,  money and  the rule of the state.

once the goddess existed  in our hearts and we followed her in all her incarnations,

that of  great mother  virgin  crone,

with  respect and honour we listened and learned to deal fairly and gently with all living beings .

along came the witching hours when the midwives and the healers the shamans and the dreamers were hung and burnt and defiled in the name of a new god.

the new god offered us money and things – bright baubles and trinkets that we played with like children.

it doesn’t look so bright anymore as the systems of air  water  earth and fire topple like drunken sailors .

I danced for you my love for you my family for you my relations for all of you.

but mostly I danced on behalf of the goddess

on behalf of the great mother

the fertile abundant  womb that offers us our lives and  sustains our way of being.

in gratitude

x

the title comes from a Feminist short film that I saw back in the late 80’s.

a to z  today was going to be about the Faerie embassy but …

I am sitting on my meditation cushion eyes closed settling in, then eyes open and I am looking directly at a wallaby outside my room holding a large leaf in its paws munching away. not having my glasses on I peer for quite a while trying to work out what it is eating. I am almost certain it was a wild tobacco leaf. well that is new. closing eyes again centering breathing stillness and then another thought drifts in of the greyness of the day and perhaps the timer on the fridge needed to be altered or turned off altogether and one thought leads to another and I was writing  a blog instead of meditating so I gave up on the cushion and will get back there later.

I will I promise.

oh the things that take us away…

my Friend Glenda loves these grey days when the clouds hang so low over our heads and she loves them precisely because her mother didn’t.

I don’t like these days, says Hilda they are so gloomy. Glen the teenager replies I love them they are so soft .

I have a mixed response – yes the softness and the feeling of being cocooned is attractive and the possibility of rain is exciting but wait it means the panels are missing out and I have to build that awareness into my day .

for thirty years we had a gas Fridge and then last year along with a couple of new solar panels we went electric. It is in market place parlance a bar Fridge .

the very first thing I noticed to irritate me was the noise they make – that electrical humming– that clumping on and off the crunkling and shuddering that overwhelms the kitchen landscape and no it is not an old Fridge.

I guess for most of you it is a background event along with all the other grid hums and buzzes and beeps.

some years ago John built a coolroom that pulls cold air in from the south shady side of the house and ever since we have only employed a Fridge in the hotter months.

since going electric I have realised that they don’t have to be on all the time, once everything is cold and the water in the wee ice box is Frozen then a few hours each day is all that is needed to maintain coolness.

so I wonder what it is with this 24/7 thing, this mindless keeping the Fridge on at all costs? Do we even care about our use of power or are we oblivious to the cost to the planet of our consumption of Fossil Fuels?

Do people look in the fridge for feelings ,to find purpose, to be seen to be doing something, for happiness, for something to take the pain away or just a vague I don’t know what to do with myself maybe the Fridge can tell me. these are some of the ideas explored in the short Film and warrant some reflection.

still disposed to grey outside I check the Fridge 2 pats of butter , a pickled cucumber , a jar of homemade hommous , a skerrick of Zoes green tomato chutney , leftover John made steak and kidney pie , a pot of breastmilk salve we made a few weeks ago  (Fantastic skin cream ), horseradish relish,a knob of parmesan, some Feta and a few bottles and jars of “I don’t know ask the angel of Fermentation’. well that can all go in the cool room and we can turn it off until next summer.

I know a Full Fridge/Freezer is a sign of prosperity but does it mean we are eating Fresh or is this just market place propaganda and we have swallowed the story.

once Fresh meant we picked it off the vine harvested from the garden prepared with love and placed it before our Families with smiles all round. now we see signs of processed Food Frozen Food labeled Fresh .

really .

I can hear a daughter with the large shiny grey metal Fridge that she loves so much going oh dear mum is raving again and shaking her head.

so dear Friends I will sign off

For now …

xx

some say life began in the garden of Eden

And so the bible agrees.

obviously not the Eden I know.

not the one that slaughtered whales desecrated the land of the first Peoples forcing them into poverty and disease and to this day is responsible for the ongoing destruction of the forests for woodchips.

Eden, a small town near the border of NSW and Victoria has a history of fishing logging and tourism and with a population of something like 3000 people its pride is Twofold Bay a large deep natural harbour . It was 1828 when the first whaling station was set up and began to employ the indigenous people who  refused to kill the orcas which led to a collaboration . They communicated with the orcas  who in turn would trap the humpback whales in the bay where they would be harpooned,  parts of the carcass  would then be given out as reward.

old Tom the leader of the pack the full skeleton, is displayed  in Edens killer whale museum –  his reward was the tongues and the lips .

that industry gave way and in the 60’s a woodchip mill was set up on the shore of the southern headland where it still operates.  it was sold to the people as taking only waste product from the forests – the heads and butts – and maybe that was true in the beginning.  no I don’t really think so either. it quickly became what logging is all about in this region wrecking our forests  for  woodchips  to export to Japan and other countries.

protests have been many and vigorous and  battle lines are still drawn and the fight continues. the regional forest agreement is up for review again and despite much effort by aware and caring people it is highly likely that the chipmill will be granted another contract.

Each morning I turn my gaze to a garden within a forest within the earth.

I wake to  a whistle a whip, a buzz a hum a rustle a thump a sigh. The day reveals itself in dewdrops poised on leaf and stem, birds shaking off the dream and rising to fly , hover sip and sup chase and gather.

I sit on a verandah soaking up the coolness of dawn; the sun still tucked behind the tall eucalypts, the garden slowly unfolding its appointment with growth. I am in the ringside seat for the first flight of the swallows. Huddling together timidly on a rafter while the parents zoom off at lightning speed only to open their mouths and chitter as they zoom in again but this time there is no food offered.

three babies wearing white lipstick flap tentatively from nest to light cord and back again.

The sun reaches the verandah and the water skinks glide out from their cubbies. Wrens of the superb blue variety skip around my feet . A white-eared honeyeater lands on the branch over the watertank, a quizzical tilt of the head a dip down into the water a splash or two back onto the branch followed by a vigorous shake of the feathers. A quick clean under the wings another dip and feather ruffle and off it flies.

The willie wagtails are dancing and my eye is drawn up to a nest in the angophora tree where they are  feeding their babies.

Bravely one of the baby swallows launches itself from the rafter dropping down before remembering to flap and sails out into the big ness and disappears from sight. The remaining two close ranks clean themselves and chatter.

Their moment will come.

This could be the garden of Eden

this time capsule of life renewing itself

these moments of evolution unfolding.

I am witness to this power and energy

this vital transmission of light sun water earth and loving attention

I do not make any of this happen but I rejoice to wake into it morning after day after day.

while providing good gut health is one of the acknowledged benefits of eating fermented foods living with a fermenter comes with its own set of challenges.

certainly within our household and our resident fermenter there is a lot of experimentation that goes on. how else does one learn whats what,how else are we able to create unless we are prepared to go out on a limb and try things??

sometimes there are smells that seem totally off the chart followed by tastes that can unsettle our known palate.

every so often I find a forgotten jar in the bottom of the cool room or a pantry shelf and wonder what I am seeing – a strange cocktail of colour and growth which just goes to show that there are good bacterias and then there are not so good.

taking the lid off can takes ones breath away, knock ones socks off and activate a gag reflex.

happily this does not happen often but experimentation does require bold moves and this man here has them.

indeed the bolder the stronger the smell the better as far as he is concerned.

sharing a kitchen and living space with this level of dedication means there are times when I burn a lot of incense or take long walks in the forest and breath deeply.

mostly though I am on the receiving end of flourishing bacteria’s that are known to make my interior a more healthy space.

we always have a few staples such as sauerkraut – in which the cabbages are chopped and pounded and salted away into a crock where over a period of time they achieve a wilted and soury tang to them. turnips have become another staple using the same process and in summertime when the cucumbers are rolling off the vine they are salted and laid aside until they appear as dill pickles. vinegar is not employed in any of these processes.

and of course there are times such as last years wedding of the youngest daughter to the handsome personal trainer that a range of cheeses were made. collecting gallons of fresh jersey milk from a local farmer and with the help of particular bacteria’s a mini factory is set up in the kitchen with bowls and wheys and curds and thermometers and voila – ricotta is produced followed by feta haloumi cheddar and brie. perfect pats of cheeses in the cool room gives one the feeling of living in the land of milk and honey. just try getting into the kitchen to cook a meal at these times and here we are out in the bush miles from any take away joints.

fishes caught at the wharf with the little king get pickled. by now you have probably got the idea why I use the term angel because the gut health of our family is being so well taken care of.

it is true we have danced with kefir and kombucha and water kefir but the piece de resistance happened last week. this man really earned his wings when he opened a crock and delivered unto us the family, a three-year-old miso. (there should be a drum roll in there somewhere)

oh my goodness it is very good

very good indeed.