Looking For Skunk Cabbage In The Woods

 

A shadow portrait of me, Zinnia and Fate in a shallow leaf pond

I went for a walk, with Fate and Zinnia in our neighbors woods today.  I wanted to see if the skunk cabbage was coming up in the swamp.

It was too early for the Skunk Cabbage, but we did smell a skunk near the shallow pond where I took our shadow portrait.

We hadn’t been on that path for a while and the wind took down some trees since we were last there.

Fate was sniffing the massive pine branch that lay on the side of the path.  It broke where the tree forked and a squirrels nest was nestled.   The nest was still high in the tree, but the splintered pine on the ground was dripping with sap.

I crouched down to smell it too.  Looking inside the broken pine was like peering into a cave decorated with hundreds of miniature crystal drops from a chandelier.

The sap dripping from the broken pine.

The skunk cabbage may not be sprouting yet, but the moss is.  The decaying tree trunks were blooming bright green with hints of red.  One stump even had five small white mushrooms that looked  like scallop shell umbrellas.

Moss sprouting in a dead tree limb

Meeting The Mushroom Fairy On Line At CVS

The line reached into the aisle of cold medicine and decongestants. There were three people ahead of me.   I had an appointment for 10:30 to get my Covid Vaccination but we got stuck behind a tractor on the way to CVS  so I was late.

Now I saw it didn’t matter.

What I didn’t know was that I’d be standing in line for an hour, having an unforgettable conversation with and 80year old woman.

I don’t remember who started it,  but by the time the pharmacist called my name I had gotten her  life story.

She was shorter even than me.  A fit woman well dressed  with short gray hair,  just the right amount of makeup and a sparkle in her eye.

She’s been a nurse for forty years, and took care of her husband when he was dying. “After I retired I knew I couldn’t be in my house with nothing to do all day long,” she told me, “so I started volunteering.” She smiled,  “You know how that is,  once they see you’re good at something they don’t let you go.”

After getting her covid vaccination she told me she was taking a refresher exercise course.  She’d been teaching exercise to seniors for years a the local library and every year there was more to learn.

She also got in trouble because she spends too much time talking to the people who she brings meals too.  “You’re only suppose to stay for ten minutes, but some of the people are so lonely they just want someone to talk to. I always feel bad leaving them,” she told me.

During covid she had to give it all up since every place she volunteered shut down.  She told me, with great sadness,  about a friend whose husband and son refused to get the first covid vaccines and they died two days apart from each other from virus.

She lived in town her whole life, but in a few years she had plans to move into an In-law  apartment at her daughter’s house in the country.  She bragged about how well she and her grandson get along and that he is a teenager who isn’t afraid to cry.

When it was my turn to get my shot,  I turned and waved at the woman as I walked away.  She waved back and that was the last I would see of her.

I never did get her name, but for days after I kept thinking of her.

She was one of those people I think of as angels.  Not that they aren’t real or of this earth.  But they come along at a particular time, and are for one reason or another unforgettable, then they seem to disappear.

I left CVS thinking of how much I admired this woman who for some reason told me her life story.  I loved her spunk and love of life.  How she was determined to help other people and not feel sorry for herself.  How she was thinking ahead and being practical about where she was in her life.  Being realistic about what she was capable of and what she would need to change. Acknowledging what she might need to leave behind.

I only knew her for an hour, but this small woman in CVS had become a role model for me.

It was only when I was driving home that I thought about the mushrooms.

And you should see all the mushrooms in the woods where my daughter lives,” she said to me “I never would have imagined there were so many different types, so many different colors.  My daughter sends me pictures of them.”

Of course, I knew just what she was talking about.  As she talked about the mushrooms I was in the woods, surrounded by all those  wonderfully strange and colorful fungi.

That’s the moment that comes back to me.  As if she reached into my own life to cement the connection between us.

Now that I think about it, there was something fairy-like about her. Something magical.  And it made me think that I don’t have just one mother in this life, but if I open myself up to them, there can be many.

People who enter my life for years or just minutes who have a bit of wisdom to share, something I need to hear, or learn, or an affirmation of what I already believe.

The Standing Raven And Mushroom In My “Raven” Quilt

Saturday morning I woke up thinking about my Raven Quilt.  I had done some work on it and at that moment I knew it wasn’t right.

So Saturday afternoon I went to my studio and took apart what I had done the day before.  Then I laid out some fabric that felt good to me.  It all came about quickly, but I didn’t have time to sew it all together.

On Sunday I woke again thinking about my quilt.

This time I saw one of the mushrooms I had made when working on my Raven fabric painting.  It didn’t make it into that piece, but I knew it would be perfect for my quilt.

The mushroom,  ( the color isn’t quite right, I’ll try again tomorrow when the light is better)

I only got to my studio after lunch because I was busy mailing out my Flour Sack Potholders in the morning.  But when I got there, I didn’t have to think about what to do next, the fabric was already laid out on my floor.

Standing Raven

Next, it was time for the standing Raven and the mushroom.  They needed to be grounded on the bottom of this section of the quilt.

I wanted to keep working, but it was time to feed the animals, and I knew I wouldn’t get back to my studio.  So I stayed just long enough to lay out the next step….

My Raven Quilt is sold.

My Raven Fabric Painting Is Sold

My Raven fabric Painting.  It is Sold for sale,  you can buy it here

My Raven fabric painting is Sold. for sale.  It is 40″x 44″ and is $450 +$20 shipping.  You can buy it in my Etsy Shop, just click here.  Or you can email me at [email protected].  I take checks, PayPal and Venmo.

Now, let me tell you the story of my Raven.

Four times I thought it had found a home.  I got four emails from four people who really wanted my Raven.  But one by one, they changed their minds all good reasons, like the size wasn’t right or they couldn’t afford it,  that I understood.

The unusual part was how excited each person seemed about it, but then something stopped them from getting it.

Raven took me on a bit of a ride.  And when it was done, I was in a different place.

Raven is a powerful symbol.  One so powerful it took me a year to start creating its image.  I read how it would bring transformation even death in one form or another.  I wasn’t ready for that. But Raven kept showing up and eventually, I was ready.

When all the emailing between me and potential buyers was done, I could feel myself headed for a bad place.  Was my Raven too big, too expensive maybe not even a good piece of art?

So I went into my studio to see.

There on the wall hung my Raven.  My stitched and painted image of the Raven on an old quilt.  There were the old hand-sewn stitches, highlighted in blue paint, brought back to life.  There were my woodland mushrooms, just where they were supposed to be.  And there was the raven in flight, moving from one place to another.

It was a good even powerful piece of art, I could see that, I could feel it.  Looking at it I knew, from now on, when I want to conjure up Raven magic, it will be this fabric painting that I envision.

I also knew I could go down that dark road of self-doubt I’d been before, or I could take a lesson from the Raven.  That powerful bird who encourages us to be the enchanter in our own lives.

You must put aside your fear of being a voice in the wilderness….as you learn to allow your personal integrity to be your guide…”

“Shapeshift that old reality and become your future self,”  write Jamie Sams and David Carson in Medicine Cards.

I took a lesson from Raven and decided to trust myself and my art.  And I trust Raven too.  I believe that my Raven knows where she wants to be.

If that person is you, you can buy my Raven Fabric painting in my Etsy Shop, just click here.  Or you can email me at [email protected].

My paintings of the ravens come from photos I took of the ravens who live on the farm.  The mushrooms are painted from photos I’ve taken of mushrooms on my walks in the woods in the past few years.

After I painted them, I stitched the images using my free-motion sewing machine.  You can read and see pictures of the whole process from the beginning.  Just click here.

All the mushrooms come from the photos I took while walking in the woods.

I painted the image of my flying raven from a video I took of the Ravens on the farm flying from tree to tree.

 

My Raven, Magic, Death and Creation

My Raven is creating its future in the space before it.  It has entered my life as a symbol of magic death and creation,

Like the seemingly magical mushrooms, I see on my walks in the woods that push up last year’s leaves and sprout overnight.  Those mushrooms are always just under the soil, waiting for the right time to emerge.

Shapeshift that old reality and become your future self,” writes Jamie Sams and David Carson in their book Medicine Cards.

Over a year ago when I first became aware of the Ravens on the farm, I was afraid of their power. Everything I read about them spoke either of death or magic.  I wasn’t ready for either.  At the same time, the Green Heron and Great Blue Heron entered my life and their message was one I was ready for.

I made my Heron fabric painting and embraced my ability to find my own path in life without worrying about what was expected of me or what other people thought of me.

But I kept thinking about Raven.  And Raven kept showing up, around the farm, in my dreams, and in that space between waking and sleeping.

Then one day, it was just time and I began doing the drawings for my Raven fabric painting.   I knew because I couldn’t do anything else. It was around the same time that I came to understand the shapeshifting and magic that Raven symbolized for me.

It was as if,  being able to create an image of the raven was an important part of embracing its power.

And then, through therapy, I came to see that just as Sams and Carson wrote, I was able to change my past by understanding my memories through the lens of the person I am now, instead of seeing them as I had all my life.

The magic was not in wishing for something didn’t have, but in knowing the truth about my past.

Sams and Carson write:

You must put aside your fear of being a voice in the wilderness….as you learn to allow your personal integrity to be your guide, your sense of being alone will vanish”  “Be willing to walk your talk, speak your truth, know your life’s mission…”

I finished my Raven fabric painting, but I’m still working with Raven.  In my art and in my life.

When I dreamed a raven flew under my dress,  my friend Julz texted me that she heard a clear message from it.  “...it’s the death of your old relationship with your mother and siblings.  Slowly you’re getting the courage to let go and I think the raven is helping you.”

Julz was right.

I have a pile of painted ravens in my studio waiting to become pieces of art.

And every day, a pair of ravens sit in the dead branches of the maple tree which is outside our bedroom window and my studio.

When I hear their call, I go out to see them.

I watch them, high up the tree top while I stand way below them on the ground.  They don’t stay long, then one flies off and the other follows.  I know the tree is a good place for birds to land and roost.  The small ones as well as the large birds, like hawks and eagles have used it in the past.

But I like to think the ravens are visiting me.  And even if they aren’t, I’m hearing and embracing their message.   No longer afraid of their power.

My Raven fabric painting may be sold, but that hasn’t been confirmed yet.  If it isn’t, I will be selling it here on my blog.

Close-up of my Raven

Catching Up With Myself

One of the mushrooms I saw in the woods today

“I feel glutinous,” I said to Jon across the dinner table.  “I want to drink wine and eat meat and chocolate.”  Not to fill an emptiness inside of me, but more like the feeling I had when I got divorced.

As often happens, I lost a lot of weight when I got divorced.  But after getting together with Jon I was hungry all the time.  I worried that I was eating too much, but a friend told me it was ok.  I’d be fat and happy, she said.

That sounded so much better to me than being sad and skinny.

It’s like I was realizing that I didn’t have to deprive myself anymore.  That how much I ate didn’t make me a better or worse person.  That I could have a glass of wine at night without feeling guilty about it.  That it was my decision to make.

It’s not just about food.   Being back in therapy has opened me up to seeing clearly in a way I only nodded at before.  It feels like I’m literally changing my past by changing the way I think about it.

I can see that I was raised to think as an abused person does.  Taking the blame for things that weren’t my fault, feeling sorry for the abusers, wanting to be “nice” and not cause any trouble above all else.

Certainly above my own well-being.

It’s what I was taught, it is the culture of the family I was born into.

It is taking me my whole life to understand.  Seeking help from all kinds of healers and therapists, reading books on psychology and trauma, finding people who I feel safe with and understand me.  And a lot of repetition.  Never a straight line, but always moving forward.

There has been no single “Ah-Ha” moment. Each revelation leads to another.  Some are too big to embody quickly, they take relearning.   Others are slow and small, inching along with the patience of a turtle.

Solutions are often difficult and scary, but better than going back to the way things were.

“You need time to absorb all that is happening,” Jon says to me,  “This is too important to brush off.”  He suggests I take a day off to let it settle.

I know he’s right.  I can lose this new feeling in a heartbeat.  Have to find it all over again.

I start to cry, the feeling of my own body and my own mind belonging to me, is overwhelming. It’s exciting and beautiful too.  I feel heavy in the bottom of my belly like I’m grounded in a way I’ve never been before.

I want to hold onto this.

I thought about it all night and took Jon’s advice.  This morning Fate and I went for a long walk in the woods.  We walked on paths we’d never been on before.  When we got to the end, we turned around and came home.

It’s telling that the change I’m experiencing now is showing up around food.  That I’m reminded of my divorce.  Because in a way I’m dealing with another kind of divorce,  taking another step in separating from my birth family.

But it’s not just the physical separation.  It’s the emotional and mental separation that is just as important.

The thing is, I’m already where I want to be.  I’m already living the life I want to live, and happy in it.

Now I just have to catch up with myself.

A Rainy Walk In The Woods

There is dangerous flooding in the towns around us, roads washed out, and homes underwater.  We are fortunate that we haven’t experienced any of that. The rain is supposed to continue through the night and all day tomorrow.

In the woods, the cover of trees kept me mostly dry.  My feet were soaked through my sneakers, but I didn’t mind, I had a dry home to go to.   It was actually cooling like wading in the river.

There were puddles where I’d never seen them before, which Zinnia splashed thought joyfully.

And there were mushrooms…

They broke through the ground pushing last year’s leaves up and out of the way.

They were tiny and dangerously bright in color.

And they were big and feathery.

There were lots of slugs and snails (I was drawn to the “tree” design on her shell)…

…and too many salamanders to count.  This one is next to a puffball.

Ghost pipes were scattered through the woods.  It’s not a mushroom, but a plant that gets its nutrients from the ground, in tree roots and fungi instead of the sun.  This is a picture of the inside of a Ghost Pipe flower.

A Walk In The Woods And The Dangling Slug

 

A slug exploring turkey feather mushrooms

The woods were fluttering with moths and oozing with slugs.

The path I mowed in the spring to the Gulley Bridge and stone wall, is thick with grasses and bushes taller than me.  I gather the morning’s rain from them as they brush up against me.  My boots sink in mud, wade through fern-covered marsh, soak in the rushing tannin-colored streams.

The woods are dark, wet, and comforting.

I lean my hand on the big old hickory and when I take it away a tiny slug is sliding across my finger.  I place my finger near a small slug traversing a mushroom.   It pulls in its antennas, then reaches them out again, testing my finger.

But the slug decides against it and curls its body under the mushroom instead.

I walk further and there is a  thin slug hanging about an inch and a half long, hanging by its tail from what looks like a spider’s silk.  I think to free it, but then wonder how the slug could have gotten there.

The strand is attached to a low-hanging maple leaf.  I squat resting on my heels and watch as the slug twirls and spirals as it dangles.  I can see that the thread it is hanging from is growing longer, though, like watching a clock,  I can’t see it happening.

And I wonder if the strand isn’t a spider’s but one made by the slug.  A quick way to travel perhaps?

I hold a stick near the slug’s head thinking it may attach itself to it, but instead, it pulls in its antenna and stops descending.

Zinnia is walking under the swaying slug and I think it must be frightened.  So I call the dogs and sit on a log three feet away.  I’ll be still and watch it from a distance, give it space.  I sit for a while, but it doesn’t seem to move. I turn my head for just a moment, and when I look back, the slug and the strand are gone.

I can’t find it on the forest floor.   But it doesn’t matter.

The slug got to where it was going and I got to witness something I’d never seen before.  Something I didn’t even know was a possibility.

Crying Birch and Mayapples

Sprouting Mayapple

A single drop of water touches my arm, then another.  I look up for a bird but only see the bare branches of the old birch.  Then I look down and see that the ground is wet where I’m standing.

I remember experiencing this last year in the woods.  When I wrote about it someone told me that some trees drip sap.

I watched the drops fall from the birch branch and held out my hand to catch them.  They came within seconds of each other in a two-foot area and tasted like warm water.

I read that when it’s suddenly very hot sometimes a birch tree will suck up a lot of water from the ground.  If there are no leaves on the tree to take the water in, it will then leak out.   It makes sense that this is what is happen with the birch, it’s been unusually hot for the past two days.

The heat is also pushing up the perennials in my gardens.

I’m slowly raking them out.  Today it was my shade garden where the Mayapples are up in varying stages. They are such unusual plants.  They have the shape of mushrooms when they first appear, then the leaves become umbrellas protecting the white flowers and yellow fruit.

The leaves opening on a mayapple. This one reminds me of a bat.
Full Moon Fiber Art