Planting the Three Sisters

 Today I planted 3 sets of the Three Sisters, an indigenous companion planting mound.

First I dug the dark, rich and moist dirt from my compost pile, and mixed it into 3 mounds.

In the center of the mound goes corn. I used my colored corn from last year. I chose 6 of the biggest kernels for each mound. Next, around the corn are beans. Again I used saved seeds from last year in a circle around the corn. Later I will plant squash. That is the third sister.

This will be my first time trying this ancient method.  I learned it from a chapter in the book "Braiding Sweetgrass", by Robin Wall Kimmerer. I read that chapter to my mom too.

I can't wait to watch the corn sprout up an then the beans climb up the corn. No need then for strings and frames, as the corn is the support. The squash at ground level shades the other plants and climbs all through everything. It seems like magic of a sort. From this day in April I anticipate my three sisters, 4 months from now, in August showing me how they get along.

Campaigning for Alex

 Alex Josephy, a lovely forty something young man, is running for Mayor of Oregon City. One town away from me, but quite a bit more 'purple' than Milwaukie/Portland.

My feisty, political friend, Cheryl, gathers up the local Deocratic Precinct Committee people to hold signs on the streets for Alex, a fellow Democrat and a " Bernie Sanders" Democrat at that. The election is only 3 days away. 

Because of all the above, I find myself on a Saturday afternoon on the sidewalk outside a shopping center containing, among other things, a Safeway and a McDonalds. There is lots of car traffic, and I hold my hand painted sign in various angles so drivers can see it. At first I sing songs to myself to make the time pass. The initial feeling is one of weird exposure to this general public in cool, gusty March air. March is a strange month to me. The most transition of any transition season we have in the Northwest. There is more light, some flowers, and the air still has the biting edge of winter.

After about an hour of standing I begin to feel sort of equanimous. About 6 cars so far have honked in support. I appreciate that.

Then, the unpleasant exchange suddenly comes. A middle aged guy in an SUV with a young man in the passenger seat opens his window, leans over the young man, who I assume to be his son and says " Did you know that he (Alex) is an Marxist Communist?" I squint at him, feeling the oh shit, beam me out of here internal response.

He reiterates, as though I haven't responded appropriately like he expected me to say " Really??"

 "Ya he's a Marxist Communist". In my head I am thinking, has he ever read Marx? I don't respond, except to slightly bow my head and shake it. Then he says, " Did you know that? You should educate yourself." I guess I should have gone for my masters instead of just staying with a BA.

He turned the corner, his son in tow who watched all this. I wondered how the son would turn out as he grew up. I hope he goes another way, like many of us in the 60's who saw our parents politics as an impediment to real world issues. For one, Alex believes climate change is a serious, pressing problem.

After that encounter I try to ground myself. I even send the car man some feeble Mettha. 

Later I composed some snappy fantasy comebacks. They are only a fantasy, because silence was the right thing. But here are some possibilities: 

"Oh, you mean a communist like Vladimer Putin?"

" You know,  Alex is my god son"

" Tell me more about Marx, have you read his work?"

I will continue to try for new responses, every time I come up with one I feel a little more release of the negative energy, misinformation, strident resistance to progressive change, the embracing of dangerous lies, etc.

I'm still trying to send some mettha, glad to be back in my warm house off the sidewalk, toasting myself with a well earned glass of wine.

February 2021 - A Poem a Day

 January 30, 2021 

Inspired by Eddie Izzard and his month of marathon-a-day runs, I decided to do a poem-a-day during the month of February. I began a little early. Here is what I have so far:

 January 28

 I french braid my hair- 

sip the last bit of creamy warm coffee 

morning light emerges

 emerging heart 

Traveling spirit out of the hopeless night

 Step out the door.

January 30

 7:30 am, the light comes around the long dark month

 closing the final square on the calendar

 Driveway sheen reflects the neighbors new bright outdoor lights

 Soon I'll pull on the black compression socks,

 new running shoes lock my front door, 

step into the cold air

 Begin the lope,

 try for landing on the toe joints

 find the dirt at the edges of pavement

 step, step, step into morning.

 January 31

 Out of the scary night I wake

 from under the 4 layered bed I make 

At 7 the light from ink to gray

 A slow turn now to Sunday

 7 to 8 I write by the fire

 8:15 slip on outdoor attire 

shoes mud crusted , although new

 Other runners, just a few 

Breath winter air, chill and wet 

Never fast, but grateful yet. 

February 1

 The morning starts with my teacher's voice

 On a screen, other faces in the gallery 

My tree, through the west window meditation tree

 My teacher reads a poem, then plays our refuge song 

A fine start to Black History Month The month of my birth.

Tears for Kamala

Today I got to watch Joe Biden's inauguration live. It was breakfast time for us, so eggs and hashbrowns with the images of new life being breathed into the houses of power in the U.S. When Kamala was saying her oath, I choked up and cried tears. It has been such a long wait since Geraldine Farraro ran for VP, more than 30 years ago. A woman VP has finally come before my life is over. I thnk I've been involved one way or another in Feminism or gender equity since I was 18. 47 years of hoping and being pummeled with the reality of patriacharcal power. We've been on a long and winding road. I am also jazzed that now I can talk about our president to my grand daughters. What a relief! May all the spirits, the gods and goddesses and God be with you lovely people who have come to be the human beings in our political world. May the gremlin(s) go away, far far away and never return.

Kaitlyln Turns 7, Second Impeachment, Reading Aloud

Today the sun came out after the long stretches of rain which leave the buckets 6 inches full after only a few days. Today my first grandchild is 7 years old. I walk/lope in the morning down the springwater trail and then up into Errol Creek Park to the spring which I call "the place of the water spirits". Kaitlyn loved that when I took her there, and she even put her hands into Anjali Mudra to honor the water spirits. So I said a prayer for her future, especially thinking about climate change and how it will play out after I am gone from the world. The news today after our sad, scary American world, is that our House of Representatives has impeached the madman in our White House for the second time. I call my Mom and her caregiver, to read aloud to Mom. I found an essay entitled "Maple Sugar Moon". Reading about maple trees, children, mothers, how trees grow from the original planters to a future of shade and beauty they will not know, but others will. I think of my little apple trees. Reading while Beatrice feeds my mom lunch. I recall that my grandmother, Mom's mom, had maple syrup in her history as a kid. A fading memory of a story she told. Then I rake leaves and clean up my yard after the rain storms. When I come in to check the sourdough bread I'm rising, I see a text from my son. Kaitlyn has gotten out of school early today, do I want a birthday video call? The last 2 days we've been having an afternoon time, and I read boxcar children books aloud, and she listens attentively. So for and hour I read "Benny Uncovers a Mystery". We chat in between, I show her how the bread has risen, she shows me her many pink balloons in her room. I show her the violets I found in the grass today. January flowers to keep us hopeful. Someday maybe you will read this Kaitlyn, and you will understand the very dire situation in our country. Today you get to be a kid. I tell you the story of the day you locked me out of the house when I was babysitting you. At only 19 months you were smart and cagey enough to know how to lock a door, and refuse to open it when you saw me outside trying to get back in! The night comes on and the bread rises.