tree folk and other invisible friends

The human being is nature observing and thinking about itself.

I love trees. There is a forest that starts just ten yards from the window of my shaman’s cave. The first nature spirit I talked to – regularly – was to all appearances a dead tree. Here is Herstory:

I would feel a bit out of sort, and sit on the deck overlooking Her (zone of influence). She listened to my heart, and in a still quiet voice, inside my mind, gave me comfort.

Many years ago, when I had my first and last real garden, the property had a great willow tree on it. This was a willow left behind when developers had ravaged the neighborhood, and cut most of the trees down. It was acquiring a bore (insects lay eggs under the bark) necklace. We were led to expect this would kill the tree.

The bio-dynamic gardening book I had, had advised me to go into the garden in the early morning hours, have a cup of whatever (hot chocolate for me), and listen to the spirits there, reminding his readers of Christ in the garden at Gethsemane.

One morning I was pondering the bore situation, and had an “insight”. I would make a kind of poultice or bandage of earth-substance (mud) from the bottom of the pond in the lower garden, where the ducks hung out, laying eggs most every day. The ducks were good consumers of snails and such, and excreted whenever they had the urge, which meant that the pond’s muck was seriously fertile. They also liked to hide their eggs in the ivy that was on the ground there, but … that war is a different and somewhat smelly tale.

The whole idea reminded me of Star Trek episode (original), where Dr. McCoy uses cement to bandage of rock-creature who had been wounded by a phaser, while protecting the egg nest of its young.

Duck Muck was gathered and placed all over the puffed out bark, where the insects were active. Circled the tree. Let it dry for a couple of days, and did it again.

So much for the bores.

We have another grandmother tree where we now live (see picture). Sent me a squirrel one day, to do a mime bit. First showed a limp back leg, … after getting my attention, with its limp leg it climbed the final step onto the deck. In that moment, I was in the mediation room looking onto the deck, ganja-dreaming, listening, yet worried over the future of my knees (arthritis, no cushion etc.)

After achieving contact with my attention, the squirrel dragged its limp leg right into my line of sight, but also into the sun. Calmly turned to face me, and starred.

She (the local locus – i.e. a grandmother tree) hinted in my mind – as I watched the squirrel finish his mime-dance: Put the arnica massage oil on your knees and have the sun warm them, even it Winter, whenever it rises (the deck faces just south of East).

Once I was clear on the massage, the squirrel un-limped his back leg, scampered around on the deck, having been her messenger, which is mostly what squirrels are, chittering and chattering and observing intently all the going’s on, while meanwhile sharing consciousness with the all-in-all.

A couple of days ago, a woman, who helps maintain my Lady’s plantings (neither of us bends in the right places anymore), described a hole at the base of a tree, where there was already a seriously dead branch or two. I immediately put two and three and four together, and began to make plans for another poultice.

The soil (the two) would come from a plastic barrel of compost a friend had given us last fall, and which I had used almost all of to create this year’s Fairy-Riot***. I would combine the left over with same soil into which a tree stump had decayed, with many visiting shrooms every year. Clearly this would be vital soil, and right at hand as needed – the Mother not wasting anything. (third&fourth pictures are the stump and company six years ago. Thinking stumps were wounds of the forest, we had set a large crystal on a naturally found hexagonal rock on the one on the left, and the Hopi Stone on the one on the right, which is the one almost fully decayed in our present).

This would involve some physical work, and as we had three guests visiting (mom and dad and son), I asked them to help when the time came. Concern over where the sun might be and such. Then when the time came, I added my Lady, so there were four.

First, on my own, I had taken the composted soil and added air to it with a small spade. I then added 4000 clover seeds, knowing Mom&fairies would do best with what was offered in the right way. When the team was assembled, they used the spade to dig out of the decayed tree’s area, whatever loose soil and stump fragments there might be. This was added to the well aired compost, for a mix. Once mixed, the hole where the wound had been was filled with the combined compose and active rot.

The soil was next placed in the shape of a cone (wide base, narrowing top) leaning against the damaged tree, filling the hole and creating a thick covering. Moss ordered in the mail was then well moistened, and use to cover the cone.

Done what could be done. The rest, I leave to the Elementals.

***Fairy-Riot = can only garden on deck, while sitting in a chair, so last year got a bunch of soil containers that were lying about, filled them with well developed soil, and scattered hundreds of seeds. Watered twice and day, and appreciated the changes. Faerie seemed grateful for the opportunity to go a little wild on the deck. Can’t wait to see what they do this year.

{as to the seeming distinction of fairies and Faerie, I use the first as being a type of invisible, the latter being the vital ethereal space that contains all manner of creatures, from Titans in the Whether of Weather, or the gnomes hiding stuff around my cave, just to keep me awake.}

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