tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54662635675526673312024-03-05T18:01:59.163-08:00Notes of an Earth PilgrimCarol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-53933174347818342552016-08-21T10:37:00.000-07:002016-08-21T11:05:00.331-07:00Seasoned - Late-Summer Notes<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just down the hill from Lightspring Glen</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The Green Corn Moon has reigned serenely these past few nights, her silver radiance shimmering down on us from dusk till dawn. Last week's Perseid Meteor shower, August's other celestial show, fortunately happened enough ahead of the full moon that those who rose in the morning's wee hours got a good show (so I'm told!).<br />
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It's been a fabulous wildflower season. For the last few weeks Queen of the Meadow has been reigning in ditches and fields' damp edges accompanied by the sister-royalty of Queen Anne's Lace. And in shadier places, orange and yellow jewelweed has been incredibly lush, especially here at Lightspring Glen. Its use as an instant antidote to mosquito bites is something I've little need of since their numbers are blessedly low here.<br />
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Perhaps it was July's heat and dryness that kept me from these observational writings. Truth to tell, a blog or two occasionally rattled around in my thoughts, especially one to capture the delights of my bird neighbors. So, a few belated bird-notes... </div>
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Perhaps due to a cooler than normal June, nesting season stretched longer than the previous two summers. Once again the enchantment of the thrushes--oven birds, hermit and wood thrushes--filled the woods with exquisite songs for long weeks. I'm always a little sad when at last they fall quiet, though they've earned their rest.</div>
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For much of July I was captivated by the song sparrows and juncos who both chose nesting spots on and beside the front porch. Just a few feet apart, they came and went in easy bird-neighborliness. My job was keeping track of Tiger Lily, the younger cat, who tried scaling the porch column a time or two. Angus seemed to take little notice and even took naps on the porch in full view of the juncos who seemed to know that he wasn't a threat. Cat / bird dynamics sorted themselves out just fine ultimately, and as far as I know the three junco fledglings and the unknown number of sparrow young all got off into the world just fine. </div>
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August is essentially bird-vacation time when fledglings gain their full independence and their hard-working parents no longer need to hustle raising them. Now the adults are molting and resting up for migration. I'm pleased to catch glimpses of some of them when I'm out in the woods. Bird chorus has been replaced by the more subtle insect chorus, a pleasant, constant background hum 'round the clock. The one bright spot, literally, is the huge thistle I let grow next to the vegetable garden. As I knew it would, it's become a magnet for gold finches whose twittering delight in it livens up that end of the yard. And while it's a bit too woodsy for swallows here, whenever I pass a farm in my travels, I'm treated to the sight of them filling the air with their graceful ballet. Soon they'll be gathering in larger flocks and starting off South. </div>
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So somewhat complete with my avian tribute and happy enough with it, it's time to post this and wander off to see if there are still any black berries out behind the barn. It's been a good season for them too!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The juncos just a day or two before they fledged.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-65590997340435920452016-05-31T12:10:00.001-07:002016-06-01T04:52:20.173-07:00A-Maying ... Third Spring in Lightspring Glen<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fern-Fairy Ring beside Emerald Pond</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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As a passionate lover of the four seasons and their slow, unceasing spiral dance, it comes down to Spring if I had to choose my favorite one. This year's extra-slow-motion emergence from Winter allowed the most delightful savoring of its arrival, even if at times we got antsy to shed clothing-layers and stop needing to turn on the heat in the morning to throw off the chill. So given this pace, we're barely past that point where the season's first dandelions begin releasing all those wee seed-wishes. The lawn's taken on the appearance of a miniature Truffula Forest (The Lorax!). While not all may be fond of dandelions, those first cheerful, sun-struck flowers always make me smile. I rounded the corner of the house last week and surprised a half dozen goldfinches that had been feasting on those puffy seed-heads. Decked out in their Spring plumage of brilliant yellow and jet-black, they rose up in a twittering cloud of seed-fluff, like so many dandelions taking flight. <br />
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It's as wondrous a blessing to be witness for a third time to this Grand Return as it was the first year. In that May, 2013 post, I tried my best to capture what it is to witness the re-kindling of what to me is the land's <i>green fire</i>, Gaia's vernal-essence marvelously offered to us once again. As I sat down at the key board this morning to record some Spring-thoughts, I realized I could do no better than that post, so a bit of it offered a-new:<br />
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"Every year at this time of leaf-bud and tender new leaves, the overnight
greening of fields and lawns, I go around for days stunned by the
infinite shades of green, each one luminous in the sun's strengthening
light. It's an amazingly vast palette that delights my eyes and fills my
senses. And though I often try, my best writing efforts prove
inadequate to offer a fitting description of this visual feast." (<a href="http://notesofanearthpilgrim.blogspot.com/2014/05/spring-voices-at-lightspring-glen.html">http://notesofanearthpilgrim.blogspot.com/2014/05/spring-voices-at-lightspring-glen.html</a>)<br />
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Being the<i> Resident-Human</i> of Lightspring Glen is a role I've embraced from the beginning both whimsically and earnestly. Over these May weeks it has been my privileged delight to again celebrate this magickal Return.<br />
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Though I often turn to Mary Oliver to round out my thoughts, it is the Transcendentalist poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, whose poem sings in my heart this day....<br />
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<b>Spring</b> <br />
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Nothing is so beautiful as Spring – </div>
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When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; </div>
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Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush </div>
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Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring </div>
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The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; </div>
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The glassy pear tree leaves and blooms, they brush </div>
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The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush </div>
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. <br />
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<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-10463495830391786522016-03-31T14:19:00.000-07:002016-04-07T00:32:42.715-07:00Again, the dazzling Question<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We're poised to turn the calendar from March to April, now eleven days past the Vernal Equinox. Sap rising is bringing on the soft red blush of maple bud, a gauzy veil over-laying the wooded hillsides, soon to be accented by pastels of gold and sea-green. Robins, song sparrows, red-wings, grackles, starlings, and phoebes are newly-returned. This morning a cheery mob of goldfinches swarmed the two feeders, good-naturedly jostling each other for the sun-flower seeds. Their subdued winter colors are rapidly brightening to yellow-gold, a transformation that never fails to amaze. Soon the fiddlehead ferns will be poking tightly-curled heads up through the leaves. Just beyond the barn there's a fairy-circle of them that I'm eager to step inside of once more and feel the tingly buzz standing quietly and happily among them. A few days ago a pair of wood ducks visited Hemlock Pond here near the house, perhaps sizing up the prospects of a nesting opportunity. The two previous Springs they've enchanted me in the same way, gliding about the dark water, the male resplendent in his handsome white- and black-outlined harlequin plumage of cinnamon, gold, and dark-green. Maybe this year they'll settle in! Though today's breezy 60s make me want to find my sandals, three to five inches of snow are forecast for a few days from now. Nothing to be discouraged about. After all, many will tell you that the Spring Peepers (who I heard for the first time last week!) need to "freeze in" three times before full Spring can arrive. And when it melts it will set the streams and waterfalls to singing all the more, songs that have echoed in these hills since long before any house stood here. It is the perennial do-si-do of Winter giving way to Spring.<br />
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I am a much-blessed resident of these seven acres, as enchanted with this third Vernal shift as I was three years ago. It was that first Spring when I discovered Mary Oliver's poem about this tender time, these emergent wonders. It's become part of my Spring ritual to read it aloud, savoring its delights. Her black bear enthralls me once more, and when I come to these lines, I ponder them anew.... <br />
"<i>There is only one question:</i> <i>how to love this world."</i><br />
The answer is often elusive though I've felt I've come close to it at time or two. What I can say for sure though is that it awaits me through the open back door.<br />
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<i><b>Spring</b></i><br />
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<i>Somewhere</i><br />
<i>a black bear</i><br />
<i>has just risen from sleep</i><br />
<i>and is staring</i><br />
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<i>down the mountain.</i><br />
<i>All night</i><br />
<i>in the brisk and shallow restlessness</i><br />
<i>of early spring</i><br />
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<i>I think of her,</i><br />
<i>her four black fists</i><br />
<i>flicking the gravel,</i><br />
<i>her tongue</i><br />
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<i>like a red fire</i><br />
<i>touching the grass,</i><br />
<i>the cold water.</i><br />
<i>There is only one question:</i><br />
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<i>how to love this world.</i><br />
<i>I think of her</i><br />
<i>rising</i><br />
<i>like a black and leafy ledge</i><br />
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<i>to sharpen her claws against</i><br />
<i>the silence </i><br />
<i>of the trees.</i><br />
<i>Whatever else</i><br />
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<i>my life is </i><br />
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<i>with its poems</i><br />
<i>and its music</i><br />
<i>and its glass cities,</i><br />
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<i>it is also this dazzling darkness </i><br />
<i></i><i>coming</i><br />
<i>down the mountain,</i><br />
<i>breathing and tasting;</i><br />
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<i>all day I think of her --</i><br />
<i>her white teeth,</i><br />
<i>her wordlessness,</i><br />
<i>her perfect love.</i><br />
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<i>~ Mary Oliver ~ </i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-12223673737923432452016-03-23T12:16:00.000-07:002016-03-24T08:43:36.921-07:00 Cut Down ... Multiplying<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Felled maples of the Holleran Family Farm, New Milford, PA </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The mild El Nino-influenced winter brought on the maple syrup season early this year. About the time I was starting to see tap lines strung through woods, news of what was happening near New Milford, PA reached me. For the Holleran family whose sugar bush had been in annual use since the 1950s, it was a race with the chain saw crews at work along the proposed route of the Constitution Pipeline. If it ever clears legal obstacles in New York, it would pass within two miles of me here in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LightspringGlen/" target="_blank">Lightspring Glen</a>, carrying gas from Pennsylvania's fracking pads through five counties of Upstate New York to a terminus near Albany. While New York frack-tavists succeeded in bringing about a fracking ban in December, 2014, the build-out of fracking infrastructure, primarily pipelines, is still a very serious threat...and a threat not just for New Yorkers. This insidious octopus of pipelines is reaching out its tentacles all over the Northeast.<br />
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A bit of background: In order for the Constitution Pipeline to be built, it needs the NY Department of Environmental Conservation to issue water quality permits. As can be imagined, there's been a heated campaign to oppose this and to date these permits have been stalled. With this go-ahead far from guaranteed, Constitution went ahead anyway (essentially illegally) and began clearing trees in Pennsylvania, much of the land of its 25-mile route there taken by eminent domain. To give the devil its due...minimal though this may be...they were doing so in compliance with the regulation of felling trees before March 31st so as to not impact Spring bird migration. A few landowners had opposed the seizure of their land including the Hollerans whose livelihood was threatened. <br />
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[An article that covers all of this in excellent detail is here: <br />
<a href="https://stateimpact.npr.org/pennsylvania/2016/03/11/williams-delays-construction-of-constitution-pipeline/?_ga=1.133806406.957926641.1426682455">https://stateimpact.npr.org/pennsylvania/2016/03/11/williams-delays-construction-of-constitution-pipeline/?_ga=1.133806406.957926641.1426682455 </a>]<br />
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The story of the Hollerans' plight and that of their endangered maples began to spread and dozens of people came to hold daily vigils through most of February. I so wanted to go but was recovering from a fractured tailbone, and so could only send supportive thoughts and prayers and keep up with news via social media. One night I left a note for Megan Holleran, the family's eloquent spokeswoman, thanking her for her valiant actions on behalf of her trees and told her she was an Earth Warrior. The story garnered national and international attention. Ultimately all legal appeals were exhausted and the chain saw crews were given the green light. The wholesale carnage of the family's maple trees took place on March 2nd and 4th. Megan requested that only a few chosen people come to hold witness with her. Hundreds if not more of us held our own distant witness on that mild late-winter day. I took my drum and went out among the hemlocks and hardwoods of my own small woods giving voice to our shared sadness and grief. <br />
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The destruction was horrible enough as the five acres of maples, 90% of the sugar bush, were brought down. But as Megan posted that evening, as much as she had steeled herself for it, it was nearly impossible to bear the sight and sound of the chain saws and the maples crashing to the ground one after the other. Adding to this excruciating grimness was the presence of three armed security men toting rifles, fingers on the triggers. Given the several weeks of peaceful protest and the Hollerans' always-civil and cordial interactions with authorities and Pipeline personnel, this militant presence was both an outrage and insult. I sat looking at all these images coming through Facebook deeply shocked and almost sickened. In all my years of environmental advocacy, I had never seen anything close to this. <br />
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How I wish this was the only story to tell here. <br />
In the early hours of March 3rd far to the south in Honduras, the internationally applauded environmental and human rights advocate, Berta Carceres, was assassinated in her home. Just last year she received the prestigious <a href="http://www.goldmanprize.org/recipient/berta-caceres/" target="_blank">Goldman Environmental Prize</a>
for her thirty-plus years work on behalf of the native Lenca communities fighting for their territorial rights and combating environmental assaults to their land including illegal
logging. One of the reports described her death as her having been "cut down". <a href="http://www.ibtimes.com/slain-honduran-activist-berta-caceres-family-heads-washington-call-independent-2339884">http://www.ibtimes.com/slain-honduran-activist-berta-caceres-family-heads-washington-call-independent-2339884</a> <br />
<br />
While we here were still reeling from the news out of northern Pennsylvania, on March 7th, the day before International Women's Day, Berta Carceres' funeral was held in La Esperanza east of the Honduran capital. A Facebook post showing her family bearing her coffin on their shoulders included this caption:<br />
<i>The Honduran people in the thousands celebrated her life and
protested her death. They shouted: "Berta Carceres Vive- la Lucha Sigue
sigue, </i>Berta is alive, the struggle continúes.<i> Berta Carceres no morrió,
se multiplicó. </i>Berta is not dead - she multiplied.<i>"</i><br />
<br />
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Berta Carceres is an Earth Warrior who is no longer among us. To be an Earth Warrior requires fortitude, persistence, bravery...and hope. Megan Holleran exhibited all of these and more during the weeks of struggle to save her trees. The end result perhaps was inevitable, but the story of this valiant effort by her, her family, and hundreds more of us, continues to ripple out. </div>
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Let us not lose heart. Let us multiply.</div>
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Onward....</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoTZt7zC-u8eNF7vQprm5KRuJYSTqChNAND1a3ffabucfWjukYI9XHs2gts58UX5O8rfuGQ2mUW38UpyjmZ_AH7dxK2rDd9L2d8BOmsShAyBeVuuEkuSvB1wRtigo1zvhO6JlHB5UBMA/s1600/2015_BertaCaceres_homepage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoTZt7zC-u8eNF7vQprm5KRuJYSTqChNAND1a3ffabucfWjukYI9XHs2gts58UX5O8rfuGQ2mUW38UpyjmZ_AH7dxK2rDd9L2d8BOmsShAyBeVuuEkuSvB1wRtigo1zvhO6JlHB5UBMA/s320/2015_BertaCaceres_homepage.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berta Carceres, Earth Warrior</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-37672896712698777142016-02-27T09:18:00.000-08:002016-02-27T09:32:38.634-08:00Falling to Earth <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiV6yBJXJP7KUqNojVmxfwUXtc8TSbgHV8rzvrZykFcmt0-DVvtlylHc_b9kB_JyEhRqTX1SHc8ifaTOQcWayro3A_bUjTIEPY02sqTI0YOD2sMD_8zUKimULY70wxrLFHEePrh_9wow4/s1600/DSCN4868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiV6yBJXJP7KUqNojVmxfwUXtc8TSbgHV8rzvrZykFcmt0-DVvtlylHc_b9kB_JyEhRqTX1SHc8ifaTOQcWayro3A_bUjTIEPY02sqTI0YOD2sMD_8zUKimULY70wxrLFHEePrh_9wow4/s320/DSCN4868.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lightspring Glen's vintage dairy barn built in 1900</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Just one week away from celebrating the second anniversary of
arriving here, I had a rather unexpected set back. And while this is
somewhat a departure from my usual blog post, I want to honor this
un-looked for experience, part of my now two-year residence here at
Lightspring Glen. <br />
<br />
December 9th was an oddly mild day
for this time of year and Angus-cat had been missing for most of it. The
worry got to me by 3 o'clock. And with only an hour until it would get
dark, I went out to look for him going first to check a favorite spot of
his in the hayloft on the barn's upper floor. The photo shows just how
far I managed to tug the heavy door open when I lost my balance and
sailed as gracefully as I could to the ground, a good eight feet below.
As soon as I knew I was going to fall I did my best to go limp, a quick
recall from long-ago horseback riding days. The more relaxed you can be
when you hit the ground helps to minimize the impact.<br />
<br />
I
landed sprawled heavily on my right side and for a long moment lay
stunned gazing at the gray sky and the barn above me. It was the
weirdest sense of disorientation lying there looking up at the world.
Flattened. I felt strangely compelled to yell loudly several times, a
sort of guttural outburst, half mad at myself, half just to register my
distress. That done, I took some deep breaths and began to carefully
assess what parts of me were working okay and not hurting. Actually
nothing hurt for a while, the likely effect of shock. I sat up
cautiously...no dizziness...then managed to carefully stand up and lean
against the barn keeping all the weight on my left leg. Immediately I
knew that something was really wrong with my right hip and leg and that
walking was not possible.<br />
<br />
I lowered myself back to the ground. With absolutely no one around, my neighbors away, I needed to do <i>something</i>.
(And no Angus appearing to offer sympathy....good thing he didn't show
up just then!) I determined to try crawling gingerly towards the house, a
sort of slow-motion crab-scuttle that got me to the backdoor steps and
inside in about fifteen minutes. I was pretty exhausted but able to
boost myself into a kitchen chair and reach the phone to first call my
daughter and then 911.<br />
<br />
With my daughter for company on the
phone, I waited patiently for the ambulance to arrive still blessedly
feeling no pain. It is my absolute belief that there are no accidents
and even this literal one was going to be bringing lessons and gifts.
The first gift was the welcome appearance of the four fabulous EMTs, all
Sidney Center neighbors. They came into the kitchen with their warm
smiles and calm reassurance that I'd be well tended to. My healing
journey was underway.<br />
<br />
It would stretch out to two
months and more and is still not entirely complete as I come to write
this at the end of February. There was such a flurry of medical care in
those first 24 hours as I came under the care of a dozen and more nurses
and doctors, nurse's aides, orderlies, and hospital staff at two
hospitals. Because of the concern of possible internal trauma from my
severe fall, I was transferred to the hospital in Cooperstown and was
seen by both orthopedic and trauma doctors. I was grateful to every one
for both their professional and warm-hearted care. So many commented
that I was lucky to have not suffered worse injury than a fractured
sacrum (tail bone) and minor pelvic fractures. Yes, I knew I'd been mightily blessed. And there were also lots of compliments for
my general fitness that had also "helped". I very much liked hearing that too!<br />
<br />
The next
day I was released to my family's care and an incoming torrent of good
wishes, prayers, and long-distance healing from friends near and far. My
Facebook page hummed with dozens of messages of concern and loving
thoughts. I knew <i>my job</i> at that point was just to lie back which
of course I literally did for a while, and receive all those sweet and
healing ministrations that at times left me teary with gratitude.<br />
<br />
I'm
still learning more about why this happened and will be for a while.
Certainly an initial gift was receiving such loving attention and care
from so many wonderful people, family and friends. Though there was
considerable physical discomfort for a while, nearly from the first day I
was and am grateful for this journey.<br />
<br />
Lying there in
those first moments, feeling the ground beneath me, there was a keen
sense of being embraced by the Earth. These two wonderful years here at
Lightspring Glen have brought many encounters with the marvelous
non-human residents...and some of them were certainly present to offer
help and comfort that afternoon. More on that in future musings.<br />
<br />
For now, I offer Mary Oliver's poem to capture some of my unfolding understanding:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Sleeping in the Forest</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">I thought the earth remembered me,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">she took me back so tenderly,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">arranging her dark skirts, her pockets</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">full of lichens and seeds.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">nothing between me and the white fire of the stars</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">among the branches of the perfect trees.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">All night I heard the small kingdoms</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">breathing around me, the insects,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">and the birds who do their work in the darkness.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">All night I rose and fell, as if in water,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">grappling with a luminous doom. By morning</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12">I had vanished at least a dozen times</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="size12" style="color: #dcb791;"><span style="color: black;">into something better.</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaI5AYt9-3hngLwFrqqVOfF_HSSDFVJnOp0BBRfd89r7hS1QmLSvEdr_uTyiobDWMSWVVPupzAtjmEJKPv2H4P3r5Zmorl71_zv6aQnBDqPoHUdIyEfacj0msD7WrxbWNaT_nxdF4V3iM/s1600/heartthoughts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaI5AYt9-3hngLwFrqqVOfF_HSSDFVJnOp0BBRfd89r7hS1QmLSvEdr_uTyiobDWMSWVVPupzAtjmEJKPv2H4P3r5Zmorl71_zv6aQnBDqPoHUdIyEfacj0msD7WrxbWNaT_nxdF4V3iM/s320/heartthoughts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="size12" style="color: #dcb791; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Post-script for you Cat-lovers:</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="size12" style="color: #dcb791; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh yes...Angus returned from his adventures the next morning,</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="size12" style="color: #dcb791; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">no worse for wear! My son-in-law who let him back in the house</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="size12" style="color: #dcb791; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">told him, "You are such a naughty boy...!!" </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span>Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-78560533511460578302016-02-22T04:55:00.002-08:002016-02-27T09:36:52.389-08:00Lovely Luna-cy : Reflections for the Snow Moon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbSUEaqZHLVlNvU4fsJ3zjxPx6m6uQFIQRM7Sa1SGii30OraxUK3Da2YuE65bJizFjG-0dOhUmUxbx1i1CpShnZsno0l2nho50onp73fCqZclULnr0dsSbpeWEOGTjXw2LUEy0WY4UGo/s1600/snowMoonCathyContant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbSUEaqZHLVlNvU4fsJ3zjxPx6m6uQFIQRM7Sa1SGii30OraxUK3Da2YuE65bJizFjG-0dOhUmUxbx1i1CpShnZsno0l2nho50onp73fCqZclULnr0dsSbpeWEOGTjXw2LUEy0WY4UGo/s320/snowMoonCathyContant.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
The moon came to me last night<br />
With a sweet question.<br />
She said,<br />
“The sun has been my faithful lover<br />
For millions of years.<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
Whenever I offer my body to him<br />
Brilliant light pours from his heart.<br />
Thousands then notice my happiness<br />
And delight in pointing<br />
toward my beauty.<br />
Hafiz,<br />
Is it true that our destiny<br />
Is to turn into Light<br />
Itself?”<br />
And I replied,<br />
"Dear moon,<br />
Now that your love is maturing,<br />
We need to sit together<br />
Close like this more often<br />
So I might instruct you<br />
How to become<br />
Who you<br />
Are!"<br />
<br />
–Hafiz<br />
<br />
Image by Cathy Contant <br />
The February full moon is called the Snow Moon in Native American tradition.</div>
Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-55819488183954311982015-10-18T10:51:00.000-07:002015-10-20T07:27:35.752-07:00A-blaze....Catching Fire at Lightspring Glen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLGdqiC6ZyizywfXnbQgUM2JVw_tFYQ1j73b-_HxHFIiCtd-1laFneuQrQWI3ZbP4Es2uVM0qvV7gofRsV-oDz-EKLCl6WCL11O8ZZUO1VfoP1zs6iqRDvmIQyAQkpNpoBRwnFijHKZE/s1600/DSCN4669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLGdqiC6ZyizywfXnbQgUM2JVw_tFYQ1j73b-_HxHFIiCtd-1laFneuQrQWI3ZbP4Es2uVM0qvV7gofRsV-oDz-EKLCl6WCL11O8ZZUO1VfoP1zs6iqRDvmIQyAQkpNpoBRwnFijHKZE/s320/DSCN4669.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
With weeks of dry, hot weather through much of August, there was some thought that perhaps this year's autumn would be devoid of much color. But in perfect timing, rains arrived in early September and by month's end came the annual marvel of the leaves turning off their chlorophyll and switching on a stunning array of yellows, golds, oranges, and reds. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(click on photos to see full-sized)</span> <br />
<br />
Soon the hardwoods will be slumbering in well-deserved rest, the days and months of gathering in the sun's light...photo-synthesis...now complete for this season. This year it feels as if they're passing a certain <i>torch</i> over to me. Early in June I availed myself of an opportunity to learn more about solar power and the possibility of bringing it here to Lightspring Glen. A wonderful mostly all-volunteer group, <a href="http://southerntiersolarworks.org/" target="_blank">Southern Tier Solar Works</a>, was hosting information events and it took no persuading at all to attend one to see what was possible.<br />
<br />
The process has been exciting from the start partnering with <a href="http://www.taitem.com/" target="_blank">Taitem Engineering</a> of Ithaca who gave me the green light for going solar (pun intended!) a few weeks after their initial visit here. Beyond their being a regional company to whom I was pleased to give the work, how could I not do business with a company of the name "TAITEM" which stands for <b>T</b>echnology <b>A</b>s <b>I</b>f <b>T</b>he Earth <b>M</b>attered?!!<br />
<br />
The hardest part has been practicing patience over the summer months as the September installation date slowly drew closer. How entirely perfect that it turned out to be the day after the total Lunar Eclipse. Bright and early on the 28th, Dan arrived in the Taitem truck joined soon by Luca and Mike. With Angus-cat offering his supervisory skills, by Tuesday afternoon the 12-panels were all in place on the car port roof and the initial test of the system a success. <br />
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<br />
If I thought it required patience until the installation, it was really a challenge to wait out the two plus weeks for the last steps of the process to happen before it could be powered up. The glory of the leaves reached peak-color a few days ago here in this part of New York. In tandem with this Autumn <i>extravaganza</i>, the call from Carina at Taitem came on Thursday that I could turn the dial to ON. I hurried out to the panel mounted on the garage wall, turned the dial, heard a few clicks and I do think a hum above my head, and the panels (that I think also had had a hard time waiting!) began their work gathering the October afternoon's brilliant sunshine. I stood watching the display showing it all happening, and yes indeed, I was beaming!<br />
<br />
There's more to write about solar power.....enough for another post that I will add soon.* For now, it is pure delight to step outside and look up at the panels gleaming in the Autumn sun.<br />
How I love being part of this particular Revolution!<br />
<br />
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<br />
*An excellent article is here at <a href="http://ecowatch.com/2015/09/09/solar-power-broke-record/" target="_blank">EcoWatch dot com</a> <br />
<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-87830119736963443632015-09-12T15:42:00.003-07:002015-09-13T03:59:30.022-07:00First-Responders for GaiaI'm re-blogging this post having found it compelling reading.<br />
This may be something that happens more often here<br />
on <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><b>Notes of an Earth Pilgrim.</b> </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Suzanne Lie: The Children of Mother Earth – We Came for Gaia.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<header class="entry-header"><time class="entry-time" datetime="2015-08-31T02:36:32+00:00" itemprop="datePublished">August 31, 2015</time> By <span class="entry-author" itemprop="author" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><a class="entry-author-link" href="http://goldenageofgaia.com/author/andrew/" itemprop="url" rel="author"><span class="entry-author-name" itemprop="name">Andrew Eardley</span></a></span>
</header><a href="http://goldenageofgaia.com/?attachment_id=264408" rel="attachment wp-att-264408"><img alt="Gaia1 (1)" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-264408" height="323" src="https://d1br7wc30ambms.cloudfront.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Gaia1-1-e1440985585648.jpg" width="350" /></a><br />
<br />
Things are really “hot”. All you can do now is hang on and wait. Of course, it<br />
is an active wait, as we are in constant contact with the higher <br />
frequencies of Light that seem to accelerate more and more each day.<br />
<br />
Then suddenly, it appears that that the connection stops – then it is<br />
on – then it is off. This experience is similar to a short circuit, or a<br />
lamp that is not totally plugged into the wall.<br />
<br />
Yes, that is it. We have not yet totally plugged our consciousness <br />
into the Multidimensional power source for our Earth vessel. This “power<br />
source” is our Multidimensional Consciousness, our higher dimensional <br />
SELF, and the core of our planetary Mother, Gaia.<br />
<br />
As we “plugin” to our Multidimensional power, we discover that we can see <i> </i><br />
<i>through</i> the illusions of 3D. In fact, that which was so important to our <br />
physical body reality is being transmuted into that which is <br />
increasingly important in our <i>Light Body</i> reality.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
When we blink out of 3D, it is often because we have just blinked in to the portal through 4D and into Gaia’s <i>Light Planet</i>. Then, it is components of our physical world that seem to blink into and out of is our perceptions.<br />
<br />
Concepts such as time, sequence, and polarity are perceived as the <br />
dis-orientations of third dimensional reality. While riding the wave of <br />
higher consciousness, that which was once “normal, physical life” is <br />
balanced by an inner knowing that “something REALLY important is <br />
happening.<br />
<br />
Therefore, we can wait. For those of us who have held Earth vessels <br />
for many decades, waiting is natural and we only hope that our Earth <br />
vessel can join the party from this dimension, as well as from our <br />
higher dimensions.<br />
<br />
Only those who have learned patience have been able to remain on this<br />
path for decade after decade and disappointment after disappointment. <br />
Fortunately, we realize that the well laid out plan for WW III did NOT <br />
occur in OUR version of reality.<br />
<br />
Because we survived the darkest of dark times – when Gaia’s very <br />
existence was gravely threatened – we can feel the juxtaposition of the <br />
Light of this NOW. The Light that we are feeling now is filled with <br />
Unconditional Love.<br />
<br />
The concept of Unconditional Love is VERY new to the masses, and many<br />
humans still have no cognition of it. Unconditional Love is the <br />
creative power of the Multiverse. The fact that more and more humans are<br />
consciously experiencing, embracing and projecting Unconditional Love, <br />
we KNOW that something very important is occurring.<br />
<br />
We ask our higher Guides to explain what is happening, and they <br />
remind us that WE are the creators of our reality. Some of us are ready <br />
for that responsibility, but far too many are not. Some of us know that <br />
we have <i>always</i> been the creators of our life, but that concept was far beyond the ability of the masses to understand.<br />
<br />
Humanity had been well trained to “follow the leader,” even if they <br />
did not agree with that leader. In fact, sometimes very evil leaders <br />
were followed and the consequences were extreme. Now, we must think of <br />
Gaia. We must think of our Planet.<br />
<br />
Our consciousness is expanding beyond the 3D concept that we are <br />
“just humans.” We are remembering our visits to our Starship and to <br />
other Homeworlds. “Just a dream,” we say as we awaken. But the <i>dream</i> will not go away.<br />
<br />
We are beginning to meet more and more people who are strangely <br />
familiar, even though we know we have never seen them before. Also, we <br />
are discovering hidden talents that we never believed we could posses.<br />
<br />
We are eating very differently, working differently, thinking <br />
differently and feeling like there is this other version of our SELF <br />
that wafts through our attention, then is gone for days. Where does this<br />
vision go when it is “out” of our attention?<br />
<br />
The truth is that WE are wafting into and out of higher frequencies <br />
of reality. We are also remembering past, parallel and simultaneous <br />
realties that fly past the corner of our eye. Can we jump into these <br />
realities, or are we already there?<br />
<br />
Then we ask, “If we are already in the HERE of that reality, then who<br />
is the one that is perceiving that reality. Are we the one IN that <br />
reality OR are we the one observing that reality. Also, is there a <br />
difference?<br />
<br />
All our touchstones of<i> time, space and sequence</i> are being forgotten in our constant quest to return to the NOW in which we are ONE. Even though our physical world <i>appears</i> much the same, random moments of Unity come into our awareness.<br />
<br />
We are not positive what, who, where or when we are uniting. However,<br />
that which was once totally separate is slowly merging with that which <br />
is becoming ONE. Somehow we know that if we think too much with our 3D <br />
brain we will lose our awareness of these expanding perceptions.<br />
<br />
We have heard myriad stories of where we are going, but we have no <br />
sense of movement away from, except in our choices. If we look closely <br />
at ourselves and at the world, we can see that there are minute changes <br />
towards a new, expanded version of reality.<br />
<br />
Simultaneously, there seem to be very “loud” steps backwards, which <br />
seem like a “hook” to take our attention away from our new experiences <br />
of life. Or is it our experiences of “new life.” These experiences are <br />
not actually “new,” but that which was once rare, is becoming more <br />
common.<br />
<br />
Changes are occurring in our body, which is simultaneously exhausted <br />
and enlivened. Our bodies are exhausted with the grind of 3D repetition,<br />
work and illusion. Within that same NOW our Kundalini is beginning to <br />
stir within our spine and higher perceptions are coming online in our <br />
daily life.<br />
<br />
“Did you see the Starships?” and “I dreamt I was on the Ship the <br />
other night” are becoming a part of our “normal life.” In fact, <br />
Ascension itself is becoming “normal” amongst those who are ready to <br />
embrace the new world that is developing around us.<br />
<br />
Most important, we are realizing that Ascension is NOT just for <br />
humanity. Ascension is for GAIA. Gaia, and Her Earth body, are <br />
transmuting into the fifth dimension. Gaia, the great mother that She <br />
is, will not leave her human children, even though many of those <br />
children would happily leave Her.<br />
<br />
Are we amongst the group of humans who just want “out of here” and <br />
are willing to leave their mess behind for someone else to clear? Or, <br />
are we the loving children who remember how our mother has cared for us,<br />
we will NOT abandon Her.<br />
<br />
Gaia has been waiting for Her humans to remember their true SELF <br />
before she returns to Her fifth dimensional comfort “zone of <br />
habitation.” Are we, the humans who have lived on Earth, willing to take<br />
care of our Mother, just as she has taken care of us?<br />
<br />
There are many who cannot imagine that a planet is a living Being. <br />
But these are the Lost Ones who cannot remember any of their true SELF. <br />
Even the “Power Over Others” humans had a mother. Do they treat their <br />
human mother the same way they treat their planetary mother?<br />
<br />
Gaia has been waiting for these “prodigal children” to return to <br />
their awareness of SELF. Now, the destructive force of these Lost Ones <br />
must be healed as Gaia has been deeply wounded by the destructive forces<br />
of those who have lived by “power over others.”<br />
<br />
Fortunately, many humans have been returning to their own “power <br />
within.” These children of Gaia wish to bless and heal their Mother <br />
Planet who has provided them with a home on which they could remember <br />
their true Multidimensional SELF.<br />
<br />
Therefore, we the children of Gaia will NOT return without our mother<br />
planet. We, the children who have learned to love unconditionally and <br />
remembered our Multidimensional SELF, KNOW that we have the infinite <br />
wisdom, Multidimensional power and Unconditional Love that is necessary <br />
to heal our Mother Earth.<br />
<br />
Therefore, we WILL heal Her! Because our version of Earth reality is <br />
steadily transmuting into the higher fourth and fifth dimensional <br />
resonance, the power of the thought forms that WE create with our <br />
thoughts and emotions is ever expanding.<br />
<br />
With the power of our thoughts, our emotions, our intentions, decrees<br />
and meditations WE can use our innate healing ability to assist Gaia to<br />
heal her planetary Self. Just as we have learned to heal ourselves, <br />
heal others, send Unconditional Love and Violet Fire into our own <br />
wounded places, we can send OUR healing force into Gaia’s wounded <br />
places.<br />
<br />
Please join us, the loyal children of Gaia, as we work together as <br />
ONE to heal our Mother Earth. “What can I, just one person, do?” you <br />
ask. “We are gathering many persons into the ONE intention of healing <br />
our wounded planet.”<br />
<br />
If you look on the Internet, you will find countless articles and <br />
websites on the healing power of meditation for our human body. However,<br />
we humans are constructed of the same elements of Ether, Earth, Air, <br />
Fire and Water as our planetary mother.<br />
<br />
<br />
Therefore, if we can heal our Self with our own inner powers, we can <br />
heal our planet as well. Thus, we will work as small groups that will <br />
also join together in larger groups via Webinars, to all do the same <br />
thing on many different places and time zones to heal our Mother Earth.<br />
<br />
We are inviting people from ALL over Gaia’s globe to join together in<br />
“Planetary Unity.” Most, if not all, of the damage done to Gaia has <br />
been done by humanity. In the same manner that a Doctor is not the one <br />
who harmed the patient, those who heal Gaia are not those who damaged <br />
her.<br />
<br />
Because we are embracing the return of our fifth dimensional and <br />
beyond consciousness, our Multidimensional Wisdom, Power and Love is <br />
coming online in our daily life. We have learned that we are opened <br />
portals who took an Earth vessel to pull our own higher dimensional <br />
energy fields into our Earth vessel and out into our world to assist <br />
others.<br />
<br />
NOW, we are called on the assist our planet. We are NOW able to answer that Clarion Call because our consciousness has expanded:<br />
<ul>
<li>From Personal Consciousness to-</li>
<li>Group Consciousness to-</li>
<li>Community Consciousness to-</li>
<li>State Consciousness to-</li>
<li>National Conscious to-</li>
<li>Continent Consciousness to-</li>
<li>Hemisphere Consciousness to-</li>
<li>Planetary Consciousness and beyond…</li>
</ul>
Within our Planetary Consciousness we will serve as ONE to assist our<br />
Mother Earth. With our expanded Multidimensional Consciousness we can <br />
work on myriad levels within the NOW to clear all darkness from Gaia.<br />
<br />
Hence, we will clear our areas at the level of the elements of Ether,<br />
Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. When complete, we will meet in the Core of<br />
Gaia to assist Her with the transmutation of her Core and Cornerstone <br />
Crystals.<br />
<br />
We will work within the NOW of the instructions we receive from our <br />
own Multidimensional SELF who is working in Unity with the other members<br />
of our small group. We will then merge with the ONE cohesive, <br />
international group.<br />
<br />
“HOW will we do this?” we ask our Multidimensional SELVES.<br />
<br />
“We don’t know,” they reply. “YOU have not created it yet.”<br />
<br />
Join us as together we:<br />
<br />
Remember our innate Multidimensional skills that we chose before this <br />
incarnation. Before we took our form in this NOW, we ALL knew that:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>WE CAME FOR GAIA</b></div>
TOGETHER we will remember how WE, individually and within our small <br />
and large groups, can heal and assist our Mother Gaia to return to Her <br />
fifth dimensional SELF.<br />
<br />
[Source: <a href="http://suzanneliephd.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/we-came-for-gaia-by-children-of-mother.html">http://suzanneliephd.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/we-came-for-gaia-by-children-of-mother.html</a>] Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-26844702812962816042015-09-12T15:07:00.000-07:002015-09-13T13:49:13.418-07:00Second Harvest - Autumn 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a long pause between posts, though I've composed several in my mind since the Spring. Ah, yes, Life is what happens while you're busy making plans. But I make no serious complaint since it was such a delight-full time in between, this second Summer as the Resident Human of Lightspring Glen.<br />
<br />
As much as I enjoyed the years of what I call my gypsy-life, how I love that these seven acres of woods and water have become my home-base. Two years ago on a golden September day, I set foot on this land for the first time. As earlier posts have mentioned, the Official Greeter was a marvelous owl who'd chosen a day-time perch at the top of the waterfall! After that encounter, I needed very little convincing that I'd found my home....or more accurately as I soon understood, my new home had found me.<br />
<br />
This Summer now almost past I'm calling "The Summer of the Owls & the Hummingbirds" as they were both quite constant companions. A family of Barred owls nested somewhere up on one of the hills nearby and once the young ones fledged, I was frequently treated to their family conversations as they kept tabs on each another during the night. The fledglings in a decidedly treble voice called, "Who cooks for you?" - as the human interpretation has it - one or both of the parents quickly calling back in their baritone, "Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you-all?" How I loved waking up and hearing their voices echoing through the darkness. I'd often lie awake listening until they grew silent again. Another of their charms for me is that Barred owls can be heard now and then during the day. Beyond the special encounter of my first visit, I've not seen another one since. But I'm sure it's only a matter of time and patience. Note of that will be made in a future Earth Pilgrim post, I can assure you!<br />
<br />
The hummingbirds were much about, especially as I invested in a feeder this year. I found one for just $3.00 at Dollar General. The clerk said he was having trouble keeping them in stock and it delighted me to think how many people around here were entertaining these feathered sprites. Last summer I frequently spotted them enjoying the red blossoms of the Kentucky Wonder pole beans in the veggie patch at the end of the yard. (photo below). Once I'd hung my $3 feeder on the porch, my first male hummer appeared within twenty minutes, his throat flashing its iridescent red. Ultimately I counted at least four adults, two pairs that routinely sparred with one another for prime sipping. They'd chatter at each other and often zoom in to spook whoever was trying to have a quiet drink. These aerial sparring matches were greatly entertaining, though I sometimes scolded them, "There's plenty for all of you...share!" Mostly they were quite tolerant of my presence, and would occasionally perch just a few feet away on one of the house plants that live out on the porch for the warm months. Pure enchantment. It was like having winged fairies for company and I never grew tired of their appearances.<br />
<br />
It's a much quieter place since their departure only a week or so ago for their winter range. The small golden bees who also competed for the sugar water had the feeder all to themselves for a few days before I noticed the hummers' absence and took it in. How it is these tiny birds find their way South just amazes me, another of the countless miracles of this Good Green Earth. The Barred owls aren't going anywhere, though I'm sure they spread out a bit from the nesting territory. Like me, they call this place Home. Accepting the lengthening hours of darkness is a bit easier knowing their familiar calls will continue to drift my way from the woods.<br />
<br />
As I was typing the first part of this post, the window open to the warm morning, an owl called somewhere on the hillside across the road, just a brief day-time comment, but duly noted and enjoyed by this fortunate Human-in-Residence here at Lightspring Glen.<br />
<br />
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<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-35251326694999192682015-04-09T13:53:00.000-07:002015-04-09T16:02:06.271-07:00Edge-Walking, early April 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
Winter is shape-shifting to Spring in melt-water and mist this first week of April, 2015 here in Lightspring Glen. Winter arrived early last November and stayed so overlong that at times it felt nearly beyond tolerance, even for someone like me who enjoys its cold, stark beauties. <br />
<br />
The vast white blankets of snow are gone from the fields tho' lingering for just a while longer in the woods. And the deep silence that held sway for all these months has released its hold as well. The air is full of water music. Stepping outdoors now my ears prick up in pleasure of all the little streams chattering their way down through the woods. The Glen fairly shouts with the waterfall's tumbling flow sluicing the gathered waters of these seven acres out into the Willowbrook Watershed and off to the Susquehanna River. And just last week, like a magician whisking off a silver cloth, the pond's bright mirror wonderfully reappeared, the trees and sky floating once more on its shimmering surface. <br />
<br />
Always in these early April days of not-quite-Winter, not-quite-Spring, a subtle, earth-damp Presence whispers to me of resurrection, murmurs promises of seed-stirring and robin-song just around the corner of this month of my birth. My second winter here at Lightspring Glen, a second Spring stirring ... just to write this
makes me happy and deeply content in a way that defies easy description.<br />
<br />
But there's this. Last year around this time I came upon a poem of Mary Oliver's new to me, and none better has yet appeared (and I doubt that one will) that better captures the Magick of this edge-walking time.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Spring</b></i><br />
<br />
<i>Somewhere</i><br />
<i>a black bear</i><br />
<i>has just risen from sleep</i><br />
<i>and is staring</i><br />
<br />
<i>down the mountain.</i><br />
<i>All night</i><br />
<i>in the brisk and shallow restlessness</i><br />
<i>of early spring</i><br />
<br />
<i>I think of her,</i><br />
<i>her four black fists</i><br />
<i>flicking the gravel,</i><br />
<i>her tongue</i><br />
<br />
<i>like a red fire</i><br />
<i>touching the grass,</i><br />
<i>the cold water.</i><br />
<i>There is only one question:</i><br />
<br />
<i>how to love this world.</i><br />
<i>I think of her</i><br />
<i>rising</i><br />
<i>like a black and leafy ledge</i><br />
<br />
<i>to sharpen her claws against</i><br />
<i>the silence </i><br />
<i>of the trees.</i><br />
<i>Whatever else</i><br />
<br />
<i>my life is</i><br />
<i>with its poems</i><br />
<i>and its music</i><br />
<i>and its glass cities,</i><br />
<br />
<i>it is also this dazzling darkness</i><br />
<i>coming</i><br />
<i>down the mountain,</i><br />
<i>breathing and tasting;</i><br />
<br />
<i>all day I think of her --</i><br />
<i>her white teeth,</i><br />
<i>her wordlessness,</i><br />
<i>her perfect love.</i><br />
<br />
<i>~ Mary Oliver ~ </i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-67131971221109302682015-01-29T08:59:00.001-08:002015-01-29T18:13:12.369-08:00Fracktavism 201 : After the Celebration<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the 1,000+ Fracktavists celebrating on Jan. 21st in Albany</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Six weeks ago I was one of those stunned to tears by the incredible news that Gov. Cuomo had okayed a ban on hydrofracking here in New York State. Time and again when I talk with other Fracktavists about when and where they heard the news, they tell me that they also wept. In the photo above, look for the woman in the purple jacket....that's Sandra Steingraber. She's kneeling beside a gentleman whose name I don't know but who is from Dimock, PA.....I've seen him often at these gatherings as he's supported us in New York all these years. If Dimock doesn't ring a bell for you, please google it. <br />
<br />
Sandra lives not far from me outside of Ithaca. She is an ecologist, environmentalist, and a firebrand in our movement...to many the Rachel Carson of our times. At the celebration rally last week, she spoke movingly of how we did this. Her speech is linked below and I hope you'll read it. It's not my purpose to attempt to sum up her words, but just this morning I came across this op-ed piece in the Binghamton Press-Sun that she co-wrote with Cornell Professor-Emeritus, Tony Ingraffea: <a href="http://www.pressconnects.com/story/opinion/readers/2015/01/22/science-courage-behind-high-volume-fracking-ban/22193583/">http://www.pressconnects.com/story/opinion/readers/2015/01/22/science-courage-behind-high-volume-fracking-ban/22193583/</a><br />
<br />
The last paragraph offers an eloquent summary of the road to this victory: "New York now serves as a shining example for the rest of the country to
follow. Independent scientists and health experts showed the importance
of sharing our expertise with the public at large and urging that policy
follow the science and put public health first. Citizens organized and
built an unprecedented grassroots movement, a model for effectively
making their voices heard and standing up to the oil and gas industry.
And most importantly, [Gov.] Cuomo set a soaring standard by considering the
health impacts and listening to the science, and having the courage to
follow the science and do the right thing."<br />
<br />
It was important to come together and celebrate, and yes, convince each other that these six years and more of often exhausting effort had resulted in Gov. Cuomo's decision. After my first stunned and joyful reaction, what I strongly feel is that this action...the banning of fracking in New York State...has shifted the paradigm, and will free us much sooner from the mindless, slavish devotion to fossil fuels to embracing the full promise of renewable energy.<br />
<br />
Just as the work to ban fracking took all this effort (and undying hope), so much remains to be done, and it will be a hard road. Over and over again at the rally the pledge made was to get to work to help our neighbors in Pennsylvania free themselves and their beautiful land from this terrible scourge that has wreaked so much damage. I've been to Dimock, and I know. Here in New York, there is the threat to this immediate area and beautiful Lightspring Glen, of the proposed construction of the Constitution Pipeline, part of the dangerous infrastructure that would support the gas and oil industry in Pennsylvania. <br />
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Standing with all my Fracktavist brothers and sisters in Albany last week, we knew it was a short rest, but oh what a fine and joyful one. The spark of our hope that has now burst into flame is the firebrand that lights the way and will be passed along and passed along.<br />
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FORWARD!!!<br />
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Sandra's speech on Jan 21st:<br />
<a href="http://ecowatch.com/2015/01/22/banned-fracking-new-york/?utm_source=EcoWatch+List&utm_campaign=35864e5e33-Top_News_1_23_2015&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_49c7d43dc9-35864e5e33-85894413">http://ecowatch.com/2015/01/22/banned-fracking-new-york/?utm_source=EcoWatch+List&utm_campaign=35864e5e33-Top_News_1_23_2015&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_49c7d43dc9-35864e5e33-85894413</a><br />
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<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-44253221114469664852014-12-15T11:48:00.000-08:002014-12-15T13:48:15.834-08:00Passing GO....Winter Solstice 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A year ago this week, with the help of several friends and my new neighbors, I moved in to what I've taken to calling my Gypsy Home here at Lightspring Glen. As the first of these 2014 posts relates, that first shivery-cold night found me too excited to sleep for a long while, entranced as I was by the snowy beauty of the shadowy woods beyond my bedroom window.<br />
Now the year has come round its full Wheel of the Seasons and once again deep snow encircles the pond and graces the woods, and a second Christmas tree lights the living room with its multi-hued glow. A good many of the other Earth Pilgrim posts capture the <i>magick & marvel</i> of many other days of this year, 2014....and it's not at all an exaggeration to say that not a day has passed that I have not delighted in the sheer joy of being the Resident Human of Lightspring Glen. <br />
I was welcomed early on...in a certain way, at least...by an amazing number of the wild residents. Some of these encounters became subject matter for this blog. The owls, the birds visiting the feeders, the otter, the deer, the bear, the bob cat, the crows and ravens, and the sweet box turtle who slowly traversed the back lawn one June afternoon...all such special visitations. And that several allowed a certain direct communion thrilled me to the marrow. To no surprise, lots of human friends have found their way here as well, stayed as long as they could, and left (often reluctantly) promising to return for more of the peace and beauty they found at Lightspring Glen. I assured them the Welcome Mat will always be out. <br />
A week or so ago I stood at the window as the Season's early dark softly enfolded the lacy curtains of snow that had been falling most of the day. Robert Frost's "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" came to mind and I recited it softly, leaning on the window sill. "Whose woods these are I think I know...". My heart filled with Frost's words and the mesmerizing beauty before me. I paused a moment at the last two lines, happy tears slipping down my cheeks. "And miles to go before I sleep...And miles to go before I sleep."<br />
I smiled. No such miles to go for me now. I am home...the first year at Lightspring Glen wonderfully complete, and another wondrous, magical one awaiting me.<br />
From all the beautiful Beings here at Lightspring Glen...and me!...we wish everyone a peace-filled Solstice and a joyful Yule.<br />
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<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-27475234860603844232014-08-29T08:30:00.000-07:002014-08-30T05:15:19.893-07:00Jewels in the Weeds - August 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is two days until the end of August and I am celebrating a special anniversary. Though I've lost track of the actual day, just a year ago I drove up to this place, seven acres of Paradise that opened wide its arms to receive me in. The Official Welcomer that day was a magnificent owl that my realtor-friend, Barb, and I startled from its day-time perch beside the waterfall. As the huge bird disappeared into the trees I only had time to exclaim, "Wow! A Red-tail Hawk!" But no, this winged resident was awaiting us in the pine grove and it took my breath away when Barb pointedly excitedly at it not twenty yards from us. "It wasn't a hawk...it's an owl!" The owl peered intently at us, tipping its head first to one side, then the other. Then, our measure taken, it flew off silently through the hemlocks, the sense of welcome zinging straight to my heart. <br />
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As I've shared in many of these Earth Pilgrim posts, so many other beautiful residents of these Catskill foothills have also crossed my path, each a privileged and often magical encounter. Only a week ago I was thrilled to the marrow by another amazing one. I was standing quietly at a special spot where I go to greet the day, and out of the corner of my eye saw a movement. Not thirty yards off through the hemlock grove a bobcat was padding silently through the woods, a squirrel hanging limply from its jaws. The rays of the morning sun played light and shadow patterns on the golden fur as s/he moved gracefully along. Yes, full of such grace. I stood stock still, mesmerized. S/he paused in an opening and turned to look intently at me, long seconds of a deep perceiving one another. "You're so beautiful," I whispered. Then, still unhurried, s/he turned and disappeared into the undergrowth.<br />
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Other treasures of this land are being offered in special abundance as harvest days arrive. For most of August the countryside has been lavishly arrayed in orange and yellow Jewel Weed, the white doilies of Queen Anne's Lace, the magenta plumes of Queen of the Meadow, and the multi-hued shades of Goldenrod. And as the expression goes, "I could go on"! A foggy morning of a few days ago created the ultimate accenting bling for these riotous wildflower bouquets. The rising mists be-jeweled the spider webs strewn all along the pond's edge. Their dazzling allure refused to release me for quite a while. But truly, to borrow Mary Oliver's line in <i>The Summer Day</i>, "Tell me, what else should I have done?" The answer is obvious. Mary Oliver trusts in her readers' easy understanding as do I of you. I hope you can see my grin!<br />
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The treasures of this first year at Lightspring Glen are at times almost beyond measure. But I, this often blissed-out Earth Pilgrim, am only too happy and thoroughly delighted to continue to pass them out in heaping handfuls. En-Joy!Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-40500762814277075952014-07-30T07:39:00.000-07:002014-07-30T07:39:29.923-07:00Within the Green Cauldron<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This summer's days have languorously unspooled themselves in the weeks following Solstice and so here we are on the far edge of July. Tho' the Farmer's Almanac predicted a hot, steamy season, so far it has been a lovely and moderate one here at Lightspring Glen, a pleasing balance of sunny days and refreshing rainfall. Gardeners I speak with offer gleeful reports of their lush gardens. My first-time vegetable patch sports a veritable tomato jungle with some of the eight plants nearing six feet. And I have a good hunch the Patty Pan squash with its "gi-normous" leaves is hosting garden-fairy parties beneath its marvelous green parasols. <br />
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The sun-dappled woods that once rang with bird-song during mating and nesting season is now a quieter place. I was a delighted witness to the fledging of the four phoebes who were raised on the front porch by their two hard-working parents. They all took flight on the same day, the last one just at dusk. It took me a while to stop checking on them through the porch window, the once busy moss-edged nest so oddly empty. For a couple days the parents kept them together in the saplings by the pond's inlet and I was so happy to see all four little ones hale and hardy.<br />
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Down below the yard, the waterfall and stream's chortling voices have likewise quieted to a more whispery conversation with the leaf-rustle of the trees, their leaves now all in Summer's deeper hues. The ponds are shimmering blue mirrors of green and sun-gold. The marvel of our invisible partnering with the trees goes on in its ancient, unceasing rhythm, they breathing out oxygen, we exhaling back to them. This gentle, sacred Dance awaits us any summer day we care to slip out-of-doors and accept the invitation. <br />
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Harvest days lie ahead with the good labor that this entails, but for these precious days, I seek this quiet pond-side seat, the tumult of the peopled-world blessedly over the far hill. I'll let that back in later...later.Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-2764126594482487882014-06-25T12:14:00.000-07:002014-06-27T05:16:18.712-07:00Unvarnished<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Summer Solstice was four days ago and I'm celebrating my first six months here at Lightspring Glen. Any who read these posts know the total delight I'm immersed in daily as I've settled in and made this my permanent address. Quite a bit of the enchantment comes from the other inhabitants of these seven acres, the Wild Ones who called this place home long before I spotted it for sale on the internet. Nearly every post has stories of these always-marvelous sightings and encounters including evidence of bear passing through the yard and a wistful hope I'd actually see one sometime. <br />
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With miles and miles of woods and open land around here and the expanse of the Catskill Mountains not far off, wildlife of the larger sort, deer, bobcat, coyote, and bear, live in healthy number. Except for hunting season and dodging traffic as needed, their lives go on uninterrupted. This Spring's fawns have been about in the past few weeks. The first one I saw was along the road on a rainy dark night and I prayed it would not dash across until I'd driven past. To my great relief it didn't. That was Monday of a week ago. Two days later I was to catch a glimpse of another one.<br />
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With wildlife encounters, so much comes down to being in the right place at the right time. For quite a while I've contemplated starting to clean out the untidy collection of junk in the barn's upper floor. So about 2:30 last Wednesday, resolving to at last get started on it, I grabbed my work gloves and some trash bags and went up to the barn. It was a pleasant sunny afternoon, nobody home across the road, just the peaceful tunes of birds singing. The hay mow is level with the road and there's a sturdy ramp up to its huge door. It takes a bit of muscle to slide it open along its iron track, and once I'd done so, I stepped inside and began to survey the piles of dusty left-behinds of former residents. <br />
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Then came a sudden sound from somewhere up in the woods across the road. What was I hearing? I stepped back out onto the ramp to hear better. At first I thought it was a dog, an odd sort of barking. Then the sound of snapping branches. At once I knew something was running through the woods and was coming straight towards me down the hill. Just seconds later I glimpsed a small animal with a light brown coat racing through the undergrowth. It dodged to the right before reaching the road and was gone from view, its alarmed bleating continuing. Whatever was pursuing it was seconds from appearing. A coyote? A bobcat? In no way was I prepared to see the huge bear that crashed into the open, its mouth open, panting in exertion, its eyes bright with its intent. It wheeled after the little animal, muscles rippling beneath its glossy black pelt, and raced off at a speed that stunned me. Without any time to think, I yelled "HEY!" as loudly as I could to catch the bear's attention and maybe distract it. Perhaps not a wise move, but I was safely on the other side of the road and with the barn to jump into and slam the door if necessary. It was a futile gesture. The bear vanished in the undergrowth, and I stood mute listening to the deadly race play out over what was likely only a couple hundred yards further. The bleating sounds that now I understood were very likely a fawn's, quickly grew more and more feeble, and then it was quiet. A robin began to sing.<br />
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I stood shaking with what I'd just seen, realizing that I'd just witnessed Nature that we humans know little of but which goes on every day out of our sight and hearing. Had I perhaps been summoned to witness this, I wondered, Nature in its pure but harsh and unvarnished beauty. I took several deep breaths to slow my jumping pulse. I stared into the green and sunny woods where this frightening scene had just taken place, and then went back inside the barn. There was work waiting there on this June afternoon. <br />
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It wasn't the last upsetting thing that day. Later I had to coax my cat, Angus, to release a catbird fledgling. He did so grudgingly and the little bird hopped off into the ferns near the porch looking okay. Monday's heavy rains and winds apparently had dislodged the two young birds from their nest in the rhododendron. The parent birds continued to feed and try to protect them as they will. I did my level best to help, keeping Angus inside for two days, but neither survived. At least it wasn't his doing. <br />
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I had somewhat more control over trying to help the catbird fledglings than the fawn. And I know full well a high percentage of birds and mammals don't make it to adulthood. I've been witness to this so many times elsewhere, but these three deaths were the first for me here in Lightspring Glen. Maybe this offers a balancing out to all the bliss of these six months, the Shadow with the Light. Maybe it's a reality check. Maybe one can be in too much Bliss. An answer may come in time. But there is no doubt that those seconds of mute witness, beholding that deadly chase through the Spring woods, will not fade for a very long time.Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-77787478200779383612014-05-21T08:40:00.000-07:002014-05-21T08:47:16.510-07:00Spring Voices at Lightspring Glen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This Earth Pilgrim now finds herself in mid-May, the year's Wheel spinning joyfully forward. It's my first Spring here in Lightspring Glen, and oh! what a Season of delightful (delight-full) discoveries everywhere in this wondrous new heart-home. </div>
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With Spring now in earnest unfolding, my woods-walks got me thinking: in addition to the voices of all the wonderful birds, Spring certainly also "sings in greens". Every year at this time of leaf-bud and tender new leaves, the overnight greening of fields and lawns, I go around for days stunned by the infinite shades of green, each one luminous in the sun's strengthening light. It's an amazingly vast palette that delights my eyes and fills my senses. And though I often try, my best writing efforts prove inadequate to offer a fitting description of this visual feast. </div>
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It's a water-rich landscape here with the three ponds and marshy areas. So as warmer weather approached, I'd been eagerly anticipating a marvelous chorus of Spring peepers. Possibly my favorite sound of Spring. Oh my, yes! Mild nights in the last weeks have offered fabulous Peeper-concerts often with accompanying deeper voices of their newly-awakened frog cousins. The warmer the night, the more harmonies added. There was a particularly raucous set of frog-singers right here in Hemlock Pond by the house. Then one afternoon, a Great Blue heron happened by along with a kingfisher. Together they made considerable in-roads in that frog population. I was a reluctant witness to their teamwork and tried to bear in mind that Nature has her ways, a Mystery I had to accept :::sigh::: </div>
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Once the snow-melt ended the waterfall's song had become fairly muted. But last week's heavy rain brought it roaring back. So for several days the air was filled with the cascading rush of water tumbling down the falls and down through the Glen. Only the crows' calls could be heard over the silvery din.</div>
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And bird song, not counting the crows (!) ...where to begin? Newly returned to the countryside, as with the Peepers, I was eagerly anticipating the Spring calls of returning birds, those that stay and migrants who pass through lingering only a short time. But it was a chilly April and so a slowed arrival for many. At last temps climbed and literally overnight the woods filled with their colors and song! One morning I was wowed by a flock of migrating warblers darting about in the hemlocks like so much confetti, bright yellows, blues, blacks, whites, rusty browns. They've moved on to their summer habitats in the Adirondacks and further north. And while I could go on and on about the birds that are settling in here, for this post a list will suffice: robins, flickers, Song- and chipping sparrows, a pair of hummingbirds, catbirds, orioles, tree swallows, grackles, an amazing number of ovenbirds, and in the deeper woods the shy, enchanting Woods and Hermit thrushes. The "locals" have made room, the chickadees, juncos, Mourning doves, Blue jays, nuthatches, and wood peckers. Birder that I am, I am easily distracted from my "other" work hearing a new voice and rush to catch a glimpse. And just when I thought I couldn't be more thrilled, one morning last week there on the lawn was a pair of Indigo buntings! They didn't even seem too concerned when I went quietly out the kitchen door to capture a photo. They've appeared several times and how marvelous to think they're looking to settle in for the season here at Lightspring Glen. </div>
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So with Spring in full and fabulous force, is it any wonder that when people ask how things are at my new place, my response is, "I'm living in Paradise!" </div>
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Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-46691467564360835582014-04-27T12:03:00.000-07:002014-04-27T17:52:57.454-07:00Stoking the Green Fire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
It is nearly the end of April, and this particular Aries-born person is finding it hard to be patient when chilly weather threatens a comeback as it is today. I'm not alone of course, and even winter-loving folks who had a grand Season to celebrate this year, are more than ready to permanently don sandals and re-stock their sunscreen supplies.<br />
<br />
Last night I had the most enchanting dream-visit from a pair of hummingbirds who swooped around my head and then up into the bare tree branches above me. "Oh!! Hello, beautiful Ones!" I called after them. ""Don't go away, we're working on warmer weather soon!" I smiled when I woke up remembering this vision and looked out the bedroom window at the grass rapidly greening from the past week's chilly showers.<br />
<br />
What is good about the slow pace that Spring's taking is that if I can just practice patience, every Robin song and every bright daffodil, every swelling bud thrills me. There have been recent Springs when the weather has turned warm so fast that it's passed in a blur and suddenly people were complaining about it being too hot. (grrr! I have absolutely no tolerance when I first hear these complaints!) A recurring dream I once had this time of year was that somehow or other Spring had come and gone and I'd totally missed it. I'm always so sad in the dream and when I wake up. <br />
<br />
None of that sadness will be visiting me here, this marvelous first Spring at Lightspring Glen. Everything is a new and delightful experience. I've been thrilled by the appearances of a pair of Wood ducks and then a Mallard pair on the pond, both males sporting the most amazing, colorful plumage. A visit from the grand kids for my mid-April birthday weekend brought hours of fun exploring the woods and ponds on what were two wonderfully warm days. <br />
<br />
Those days will soon return and go forward uninterrupted at last. And helping set aside all remaining doubts, just last week I was thrilled to see that the goldfinches are trading in their dull gold winter feathers for their bright and flashy summer attire. I'm sure they're passing the good news on to the hummingbirds over whatever bird-network there is. Time for me to go purchase a hummingbird feeder!<br />
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<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-40418197159126787852014-03-28T10:01:00.000-07:002014-03-29T05:09:00.678-07:00The Bear-facts & Mary OliverIn my February 7th post I shared stories of my wild neighbors, "Otters & Ravens & Bears (maybe?!)". Well, the question mark can now be edited out of the title. The morning before last I was out for a stroll along the pond's edge when I came upon the "calling card" of some nocturnal visitor. I'll spare you photo-evidence since it was the sizable scat of some clearly sizable animal. And when I took the path past the barn to the upper pond, there was another "deposit". Other than the chance that my neighbor's dog had snuck across the road and that not very likely, my suspicions were quickly aroused. Back inside I fired up my laptop for an internet search of "black bear scat" (750,000 results via Google in 17 seconds...a wonder in itself!). Within a few short minutes I had confirmation that a black bear had most certainly paid Lightspring Glen a visit during the night. How incredible to think that while I slept, such a wonderful creature came by within mere yards of my bedroom window!<br />
<br />
Just a few days before I'd received an email with Mary Oliver's poem, "Spring" accompanied by a beautiful photo of a bear. Smitten as I always am with her poetry, I'd been reading the poem aloud to myself and loving the images her words conjured. Perhaps I had manifested this Visit? Just maybe, and that makes me smile all the more.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>Spring</b></i><br />
<br />
<i>Somewhere</i><br />
<i>a black bear</i><br />
<i>has just risen from sleep</i><br />
<i>and is staring</i><br />
<br />
<i>down the mountain.</i><br />
<i>All night</i><br />
<i>in the brisk and shallow restlessness</i><br />
<i>of early spring</i><br />
<br />
<i>I think of her,</i><br />
<i>her four black fists</i><br />
<i>flicking the gravel,</i><br />
<i>her tongue</i><br />
<br />
<i>like a red fire</i><br />
<i>touching the grass,</i><br />
<i>the cold water.</i><br />
<i>There is only one question:</i><br />
<br />
<i>how to love this world.</i><br />
<i>I think of her</i><br />
<i>rising</i><br />
<i>like a black and leafy ledge</i><br />
<br />
<i>to sharpen her claws against</i><br />
<i>the silence </i><br />
<i>of the trees.</i><br />
<i>Whatever else</i><br />
<br />
<i>my life is</i><br />
<i>with its poems</i><br />
<i>and its music</i><br />
<i>and its glass cities,</i><br />
<br />
<i>it is also this dazzling darkness</i><br />
<i>coming</i><br />
<i>down the mountain,</i><br />
<i>breathing and tasting;</i><br />
<br />
<i>all day I think of her --</i><br />
<i>her white teeth,</i><br />
<i>her wordlessness,</i><br />
<i>her perfect love.</i><br />
<br />
<i>~ Mary Oliver ~ </i><br />
<br />
<b> </b>Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-28560721248069238532014-03-21T18:17:00.000-07:002014-03-22T07:00:19.290-07:00In the Flow : Up & Downstream<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Dragonfly Cottage</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />
Today is the first full day of Spring, extra-marvelous for me as it's my first here at Lightspring Glen. Tomorrow, March 22nd, is the 21st World Water Day, sponsored by the United Nations. Unless you live under a rock (as the expression wryly goes), you know the several crises afflicting the waters of the Earth. Do visit the <a href="http://www.unwater.org/worldwaterday">UN's excellent website</a> to find out not only what's going on this year, but for a comprehensive look at the entire disconcerting issue and learn ways we can all make a difference. <br />
<br />
My personal story takes me back to the five previous Springs I welcomed the Vernal Equinox from Dragonfly Cottage perched so wonderfully above the Susquehanna River. Opening the curtains each morning was to be greeted by the day's rising over the wide river flowing directly toward me, almost as if it flowed into the hill, though in truth it took a gentle bend around us in its steady flow down to the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic.<br />
<br />
As readers of this blog know, last Fall I made my way upstream an hour's highway travel (perhaps a 2-day strenuous paddle by canoe?!) and further up along Carr Brook, then up Willow Brook, and finally a half-mile or so up a lovely unnamed stream to the ponds, waterfall, and springs here on the seven acres of my forever-home, Lightspring Glen. Up here on this hill we are on the very edge of the Chesapeake Bay's watershed. Just a short walk to the top of the rise and the waters flow off ocean-ward through the Delaware River. As the crystalline waters rise from their springs (not yet certain how many, but at least four) they create three lively brooks clattering downhill over tree roots and stones. Two flow into Upper Pond, its gentle out-flow joining the third brook and all filling Hemlock Pond that's right behind the house. I've joked that even if I'd had to live in a tent, I would have moved here in a heartbeat.<br />
<br />
Though I arrived just before Winter Solstice and the rugged months that quickly followed, there were enough mild days for me to explore and experience these enchanted waters weaving their way across the landscape into Hemlock Pond, then merrily splashing over the waterfall and down through the Glen on the long journey to the sea. But this apparently healthy ecosystem has been under siege...there's a super-fund site literally just over the hill. I must admit it gave me pause when I first learned of it, but when research showed that the clean-up was successfully completed over eight years ago and that careful monitoring continues, making this my home was an easy decision. I'll share the details of this environmental degradation in an upcoming blog, "A Tale of Two Streams". <br />
<br />
Tomorrow it's my intention to go out to the pond and the waterfall to offer my thanks and prayers to these waters and send blessings on its downstream flow knowing they will be multiplied by the heart-wishes of many others all along the River's course to the mighty Atlantic. I'll be guided by a wonderful ceremony shared on-line this week by the International Council of the 13 Indigenous Grandmothers. [<a href="http://inthenameofthemother.net/world-water-day-water-blessing-ceremony/">link here</a>] If you are reading this after March 22nd, it will be no less effective or diminished by the passage of time. It is my hope that when you come to this post you'll be encouraged to offer Love and Thanks to Earth's waters at your own special water-place. <br />
~Namaste'<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hemlock Pond </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-78921471767767430902014-02-26T07:01:00.000-08:002014-02-26T11:59:11.257-08:00Stirrings<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlHAoECvURi-gcCZJlfN8xGnZHcHVx1CxNR__5rZEuti4qPbowUHFtjBq_D-8QmCEuwqm7JdTXrgS7qAgnIyjPbLytFqmEz7MxIBdCzJwHK2dTlnsD-ghmzm4RiVGF82NpzO34olsqJg/s1600/DSCN3404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlHAoECvURi-gcCZJlfN8xGnZHcHVx1CxNR__5rZEuti4qPbowUHFtjBq_D-8QmCEuwqm7JdTXrgS7qAgnIyjPbLytFqmEz7MxIBdCzJwHK2dTlnsD-ghmzm4RiVGF82NpzO34olsqJg/s1600/DSCN3404.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woodland Presence</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />
Two months along in my residence at Lightspring Glen and I still feel more like an honored guest than the mortgage-holder that the Bank says I am. I think this is because it still seems too good to be true to even <i>be</i> here, to have returned at last to my rural roots after five years "in town". As friendly as people were in my suburban neighborhood, and as wonderful as my riverside cottage was, at times it still felt like living in exile from Nature's ready presence in woods and field. I didn't realize how hungry I'd grown to live an elemental, Earth-anchored life again.<br />
<br />
Previous posts relate my arrival shortly before Winter Solstice so it's been a pared down and snowy landscape I look out upon each morning. And it's been a challenging Season of deep snows and many days of bitter cold for my wild neighbors. My only help is stocking the bird feeders and wishing all well from behind my thermo-paned windows. Many days my only out-of-doors time is just that short walk to the feeders and then hurrying back inside rubbing my cold hands together. It still feels a long way off before I can start my woods-exploring and see to rescuing the overgrown flower border. I'm trying not to be too impatient. <br />
<br />
Last week brought a brief thaw and a few blessedly warmer days, even rain showers. Driveways at last were freed of their ice and how good it was to go around with lighter coats and jackets. South-facing fields lost some of their snow opening grazing places for the deer. A few days before this warm-up I arrived home as evening was settling in. When I got out of the car, a sound I'd been waiting and hoping for echoed clearly through the dusk. The unmistakable call of a Great-horned owl thrilled me to my toes and I went quickly to the garage's back door, hoping it would call again. Yes! "Who....hoo....hooooo....." spoke the owl and from quite nearby in the hemlocks. "Oh-h-h....." I whispered, shivering in delight. And then <i>another </i>owl answered from the woods across the road! I stood transfixed, eavesdropping on their conversation for as long as I could stand the cold and then retreated reluctantly indoors.<br />
<br />
So mating season has begun for these beautiful birds who never let a little cold and snow bother them when it comes to this. On a drive yesterday I cheered to see robins along the road in the bushes, managing despite the gusty winds and blowing snow. And robin-reports are popping up on Facebook (our 21st-century's telegraph), each one greeted with comments of delight and a certain relief. Take heart, the robins are telling us. We are all one day closer to Spring. <br />
<br />
<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-84454269550780498882014-02-10T08:59:00.002-08:002014-02-10T09:01:01.178-08:00Mary Oliver's love poem for Otter<br />
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This admittedly fuzzy photo is the closest I've come to capturing an image of my sleek neighbor whose story I shared in the previous post. You can see her back arched as she readies to dive back into the open water. Once on a walk along the Susquehanna River when I lived at Dragonfly Cottage, I saw one swimming and watched from my hidden viewing spot as s/he climbed out on the bank for a minute or so and then dove back into the water. Not long after this delightful encounter, I chanced upon this wonderful poem of Mary Oliver's of her own interaction with one of these marvelous creatures! I know it will bring a smile and just possibly a chuckle at the end, most especially if you're as much of an Otter Lover as Mary Oliver and me. Enjoy! <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> <i>Almost a Conversation </i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Mary Oliver</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have not really, not yet, talked with otter<br />
about his life.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He has so many teeth, he has trouble<br />
with vowels.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wherefore our understanding<br />
is all body expression —</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
he swims like the sleekest fish,<br />
he dives and exhales and lifts a trail of bubbles.<br />
Little by little he trusts my eyes<br />
and my curious body sitting on the shore.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes he comes close.<br />
I admire his whiskers<br />
and his dark fur which I would rather die than wear.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He has no words, still what he tells about his life<br />
is clear.<br />
He does not own a computer.<br />
He imagines the river will last forever.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
He does not envy the dry house I live in.<br />
He does not wonder who or what it is that I worship.<br />
He wonders, morning after morning, that the river<br />
is so cold and fresh and alive, and still<br />
I don’t jump in.</div>
Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-24310870536582715312014-02-07T07:21:00.000-08:002014-02-09T05:27:02.948-08:00Otters & Ravens & Bears (maybe?!) .... Getting to know the Neighbors<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mourning Doves & 4-legged friend</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Prior to my arrival in mid-December, for nine years this place was the seasonal home of a Long Island family. So a good deal of the time the yard and woods were the mostly undisturbed home of the wild ones. After the astonishing greeting on my very first visit by a huge owl (a tale deserving a separate post!), I looked forward to getting acquainted with the other non-human neighbors. It was, after all, <i>their </i>backyard that my small house occupied. <br />
<br />
There certainly were deer. Their tracks in the snow showed how busy the place was after dark. During the daytime I caught glimpses of two or three in the woods beyond the pond. Once I put up the bird feeders I saw evidence of their investigating what was left on the ground at the end of the day. It's been a very snowy winter, so I don't mind at all their being the after-dark clean-up crew. Then to my utter delight, very late one afternoon this young one strolled confidently around the corner of the house and began munching away, the mourning doves not a bit bothered by their four-legged competition. When I told my across-the-road neighbor about this he replied with a smile that one of the deer...likely this one...sometimes comes right onto their front porch for bird seed. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(click on photos to see each one larger)</span><br />
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A lifelong "bird-er", I was especially eager to find out what birds make this their home. So far the feeders have attracted chickadees (about my favorites), a pair of cardinals, a blue jay gang, a lone junco, gold finches, mourning doves, titmice, and a half-dozen or so tree sparrows who are winter visitors from the Canadian tundra. I've not seen the owl again but am hopeful he or she is still in the neighborhood. Its immense size indicated I was likely welcomed that day by a Great-horned owl. Mating season begins for them soon, so I'm anticipating the thrill of hearing their who-whoo-ing songs on a moonlit night. There are crows of course, passing by all the time on crow-business. Their raven cousins prefer less-civilized areas, and I've been delighted to hear their gravelly voices calling back in the hills and catch glimpses of them on the wing. Last week one perched in a tree by the pond allowing me a good look at its handsome profile, croaked a message, and off s/he went. <br />
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I would have been enchanted enough with all of these, but another magical encounter awaited. Lightspring Glen's seven acres encompass two small ponds, three streams, a waterfall, and several springs above the upper pond. One frigid January day I just happened to be looking out at the pond when I spotted a small animal dashing along the farther edge. <i>Odd that a squirrel's out on a sub-zero day, </i>I thought. Fortunately my gaze lingered since it came into clearer view and I gasped to be see it was an otter! I was so thrilled and a day or two later found its tracks on the ponds' ice, so clearly she/he/they lived nearby. As the cold deepened, the pond froze over nearly completely except for a center spot where the streams' incoming currents keep it open. And then a second fortunate sighting of the otter going in and out of this open water catching small fish, and this time s/he was there for nearly fifteen minutes. I couldn't resist the urge to try for a picture and went out to the garage door with my camera. Angus tagged along and when he caught sight of this creature bounding along on the ice, he dashed down to the pond for a closer look. The otter spotted Angus and clearly was also curious about this "unusual" creature. I captured a moment of their staring at each other across the ice. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEmw-HkiFlnYT5c10PUJKx1GraCveog8oOv9bxz-XmlXIPC-ZaJQASrAWyy1IshRgrPBGjxo-VtcKylX9UJmT304YFkkD9Ttvq9iqqIs0w_36xwjOsHfJynwoZBKrCcC3Tnk4bVnqhdU/s1600/RSCN3395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEmw-HkiFlnYT5c10PUJKx1GraCveog8oOv9bxz-XmlXIPC-ZaJQASrAWyy1IshRgrPBGjxo-VtcKylX9UJmT304YFkkD9Ttvq9iqqIs0w_36xwjOsHfJynwoZBKrCcC3Tnk4bVnqhdU/s1600/RSCN3395.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close encounters of the furry kind</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Angus got up his nerve to pad across the ice to the open water (me praying he wouldn't fall in)...the otter dove in, popped up at a small opening near the waterfall, and dashed to its burrow. So they've taken each others measure, and who knows, maybe next time they'll touch noses.<br />
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Bears? If they're here, they're hibernating soundly (and wisely) through this old-fashioned winter's cold and snow. So I'll just have to wait and see what Spring brings. But my sense is that more intriguing encounters are in store for Angus and me. Oh my! :-) <br />
<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-68989947197571701172014-01-15T11:43:00.000-08:002014-01-16T05:00:33.755-08:00The Path Leads On.....2014's New Vistas<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Light, 16th December 2013</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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When I composed and uploaded my last Earth Pilgrim post way-y back last June, I had absolutely no idea of the approaching curve in my Path that would find me in late September bidding farewell to my much-loved Dragonfly Cottage and lead me here to Lightspring Glen by Winter Solstice. This new part of the journey would be very much a roller-coaster and stretch over several months before I could finally step off its wild ride and onto the sweet land that is now my home in Sidney Center, New York. I would have fine and interesting company along the way with the surprising number of folks who aid and abet the process of searching for a new home and then help (or at least appear to help :-) ) hopeful new-home owners like me make their way through the maze of the purchase process. (As I recall this now, the Carnival Analogy fits quite well!) </div>
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It is now a full month since taking up residence, a whole lunar cycle with the Cancer Full Moon coming our way at dusk today. After the long-awaited closing on the 11th of December [11:12:13], the Season's first major snow storm nearly canceled my plans to move in at once. But thanks to the fabulous help of my new neighbors who pitched in with the hauling and toting and who also plowed the 10 inches of snow from the driveway, on the night of the 15th I climbed under the bed covers, turned off the light, and gazed out in awe at the moonlight playing softly on the snow of my incredible new back yard. I was simply too excited to fall asleep for a long while, but exhaustion finally took over. When I woke in the morning, it turned out this Dream was solid, gleeful reality. The thermometer hovered near 10 degrees when I stepped outside with my camera to capture the image of the day's first light beginning to fill the hemlock woods beyond the pond. </div>
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Long ago on another Winter's night when I was more a poet than any other sort of writer, a poem came to me. Its opening couplet sounded itself confidently in my inner ear, <i>"The Path leads on, I must depart / To hidden places of the Heart" </i></div>
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And so it does lead on, this beautiful Path that is my life. More stories will follow as I take my first steps into this indescribably beautiful landscape and into this New Year. Time and spirit willing, I look forward to your company. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the path to the upper pond</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-23389895262247562202013-06-26T17:44:00.000-07:002013-06-26T17:54:10.933-07:00May's Siren Song....Resistance is Futile!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_5KfURtg7oLd2VN_N0vsluA7cu2pNNEEKaMx-_Z_8lVUyQ5Pj0ecd0s63B0igjhDuoYIe2qws-kl7ty5T_zMK1ZHI0UufVAZNwhsfmDR_Kan2pjRtXbKhdtmpb5s9PvtG8_tP2axKAE/s1600/DSCN2948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_5KfURtg7oLd2VN_N0vsluA7cu2pNNEEKaMx-_Z_8lVUyQ5Pj0ecd0s63B0igjhDuoYIe2qws-kl7ty5T_zMK1ZHI0UufVAZNwhsfmDR_Kan2pjRtXbKhdtmpb5s9PvtG8_tP2axKAE/s200/DSCN2948.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">[This is reaching the list well after I began writing it in early May. Life got a bit busy and Earth Pilgrim was relegated to the back seat for a while :-) So here is my annual Spring tribute published a few days after Summer Solstice! The two photos may be viewed in larger size by clicking on them. Please enjoy...]</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Early May, 2013 in New York's Southern Tier:</span></i></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">She's at it again...Gaia, aka Mother Earth. Sweet seductress, she's been busy here these past two weeks or so luring us out-of-doors with </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">her fabulous Spring regalia and </span>blue-skied balmy days. This year our patience felt all the more stretched with Winter's chill and even snow flurries lingering into early April. But then at last, a mild night, and the Spring peepers burst into their annual welcoming chorus, their sweet soprano-jingling drifting up </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">from the River's marshy edges to me leaning out my bedroom window </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">peering into the velvet dusk. My willing re-enchantment beginning once more...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkKsM7QKcCBtsQedSSdEFzu-RhNudvUPrMW2dc8s04FXtqYf-Hf4iJmJFsITBzY4TSafDfPS4H3Kf4uewedKAz_ElhtH6cAI4TxNauJNRu3QgeIvalWMM_Xg1sd1-0YHmXjf3Chgdelw/s1600/DSCN2952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkKsM7QKcCBtsQedSSdEFzu-RhNudvUPrMW2dc8s04FXtqYf-Hf4iJmJFsITBzY4TSafDfPS4H3Kf4uewedKAz_ElhtH6cAI4TxNauJNRu3QgeIvalWMM_Xg1sd1-0YHmXjf3Chgdelw/s320/DSCN2952.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Every Spring </span>I
am smitten by the delicate Beauty </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">of the wooded hills coming alive again </span>and never tire of beholding
this magical, ethereal transformation. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My winter-dulled senses feast on the richness of color, sound, and scent spilling onto the landscape. </span>This year is no different...possibly even more so. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The maples
put on the gauzy red veils of their exquisite, tiny blossoms. The other hardwoods offer a fabulous array of pastel greens and shimmering golds. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Robert Frost's line always comes to mind, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Nature's first green is gold." </span>This photo taken a few days ago of a hillside near Masonville will give some idea of what this is. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Overnight as it often seems, the willows are suddenly flaunting their
neon yellow-green streamers, soon to be rivaled in brilliance by the
forsythia's eye-popping yellow-gold. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then for us this Spring of 2013, a sumptuous bonus of two weekends in a row with bright sun and cloudless skies, temps rising into the 60s and low 70s. Sandals, shorts, and sleeveless shirts were hastily dug out of storage. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Wherever I went people smiled giddily at each other, all of us blissed-out by the sun's returned warmth on our bare skin and the fabulous pleasure of color returning everywhere about us in Spring flowers and gem-green lawns. It may or may not be so, but the daffodils and tulips have seemed particularly radiant this year.<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Out for a walk today I am close to mesmerized by trees spangled
with their miniature new leaves winking and glistening in the bright Sun. And I am no less in awe this Spring by the countless shades of green lavished across the
landscape, at times close to dizzy with such extravagance. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Yesterday's rain conjured a heady perfume from the warming earth, its
life-force stirring from deep down. The woods behind Dragonfly Cottage grows busier and pleasantly <i>noisier</i> each day with welcome arrivals of the returning "regulars", the robins, song sparrows, grackles, and hopefully soon, my favorites, the saucy cat birds and the shy wood thrushes. It is the haunting notes of the thrush that will complete the spell to which I so happily submit myself. And the first dandelions are already offering their fuzz-ball seedheads, poised to release their countless wishes to the next breeze. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Earth falls slowly towards the full and golden light of Solstice some six weeks away. Nothing more to do but surrender to May's siren song yet again. Ah-h-h, Yes! </span>Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466263567552667331.post-27111397327068645822013-06-23T11:19:00.001-07:002013-06-26T16:17:54.966-07:00Earth Healers & Heroes: Jill Robinson and Animals Asia<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYaLL6ul26h-MWO_F2HLEWjj1v9mB4anCCp8rp28s-gMz__Sh6w-e-ajlYz-p164b86jsGt-F4RFwjZxlLbEoqeDQY3U2XrlGfMIAQJ2URwToksOfmin1Ab4lo_Yzuou70fx4oQ_GTBw/s1600/Handsome+Andrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYaLL6ul26h-MWO_F2HLEWjj1v9mB4anCCp8rp28s-gMz__Sh6w-e-ajlYz-p164b86jsGt-F4RFwjZxlLbEoqeDQY3U2XrlGfMIAQJ2URwToksOfmin1Ab4lo_Yzuou70fx4oQ_GTBw/s200/Handsome+Andrew.jpg" width="113" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew, first rescued bear</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Twenty years ago, Jill Robinson, a young British woman working for the International Fund for Animal Welfare, made an unplanned visit to a bear bile farm in southern China. Without permission she ventured down into the basement where the bears were being kept captive. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a horror scene emerged...cage after cage crammed with pitiful bears unable to stand or turn around. Some were swaying their heads, some were vocalizing – pop, pop, pop – indicating severe stress. When one of the bears reached out through the cage bars, Jill instinctively reached out too, taking the huge paw in her hands. At that moment she knew she had a choice, and she chose to act. Jill vowed to do all she could to end the horrific bear bile industry.<br />
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Bear bile has long been used in traditional Chinese and Asian medicine. <span class="txt-content-14">It is extracted from captive bears using various painful,
invasive techniques, all of which cause massive infection in the bears. The majority of these animals are the beautiful Asiatic black bear affectionately called Moon Bears because of the pale lemon-yellow crescent on their chests. Most farmed bears are kept in tiny cages. Sometimes the cages are
so small that the bears are unable to turn around or stand on
all fours. Some bears are put into cages as cubs and never released. And they may be kept caged like this for up to 30 years. Most farmed bears
are starved, dehydrated and suffer from multiple diseases and malignant
tumors that ultimately kill them.</span> <br />
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From that April day in 1993 Jill embarked on the mission of ending this cruel industry. What she has accomplished in twenty years is nothing short of spectacular. In 1995, through her work with the IFAW, China's first bear rescue center was opened and received the first nine bears from a bear farm in Huizhou, southern China. The farm was subsequently closed down. IFAW continues to operate this center. <br />
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It was with Jill's founding of <a href="http://www.animalsasia.org/">Animals Asia</a> in 1998 that her herculean efforts slowly began to make inroads into the system. Within a year they'd persuaded Chinese authorities to investigate 11 bear farms in Sichuan Province. In 2000 a landmark agreement was signed with the Chinese government to build a bear
sanctuary and construction began on the China Bear Rescue Center in Chengdu. Before year's end, the first 60 bears arrived to begin their new lives including the handsome Moon Bear, Andrew, whose picture graces this post. By 2007 a second center opened in Northern Vietnam at Tam Dao. In April of this year <a href="http://www.animalsasia.org/index.php?UID=HOIBM5028X1">the 400th bear</a> came into Animals Asia's care, compassionately surrendered by
the farmer who'd held her for eight years. While she was no longer milked for her bile and was
loved as their pet, the family wanted her to have a better more natural life.<br />
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Tam Dao's director, Tuan Bendixsen, said of this, “The rescue of this bear is a reflection of changing attitudes not just to the farming of bears for their bile but of animal welfare in general. The farmer has put the welfare of the animal above personal gain - the bear had gone from being a source of income to a pet and part of the family."<br />
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Animal Asia's work goes beyond rescuing and rehabilitating the bears.
A major goal is to reduce the demand for bear bile through inspired campaigns of public education and raising awareness about the bears' plight. This extends far beyond Asia and is gaining more and more international recognition. It touched my life in 2009 when I became involved with the Moon Bears Project, and came to know one small female bear named Clara, rescued with eighteen other Moon Bears outside of Saigon. She will be the subject of a follow-up post.<br />
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There is also unceasing work to change government policies in China and Vietnam to positively affect the regulation of captive bear farming and to bring about its eventual end. It has been made illegal in more and more provinces in China and in 2002 was outlawed in all of Vietnam. But with profits still to be made, loopholes have been found by those who seek to exploit the bears. And limited governmental resources to enforce regulations mean too many bears are still suffering in those terrible cages.<br />
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So much has been accomplished...so much remains to be done.<br />
The <a href="http://www.animalsasia.org/">Animals Asia</a> website is a trove of information which is both painful to view but is also incredibly joyful and up-lifting. Jill writes <a href="http://blog.animalsasia.org/~aafblog/blog_en/">a wonderful blog</a> that I particularly recommend. A lively <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AnimalsAsia">Facebook page</a> is also serving to spread the word about this wonderful organization and the continuing efforts of a passionate and dedicated Earth Healer, Jill Robinson. <br />
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....to be continued....</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxaQHHeqRn6xkSrp1GnG4IC3MzNOn8nrTvy9qc9sWgfCGZ8z16BFp4jM5GnHGFo7llP49Y7XTbsl3AdxF2S8CWMPbx4Sgq1xKzx5oVeOu7DC-TTB-fh0S-HDxFdOCfUShXEQ0OgXBEbg/s1600/Moonlight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxaQHHeqRn6xkSrp1GnG4IC3MzNOn8nrTvy9qc9sWgfCGZ8z16BFp4jM5GnHGFo7llP49Y7XTbsl3AdxF2S8CWMPbx4Sgq1xKzx5oVeOu7DC-TTB-fh0S-HDxFdOCfUShXEQ0OgXBEbg/s1600/Moonlight.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moonlight</td></tr>
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<br />Carol Ohmart-Behanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06827253615649137484noreply@blogger.com0