Showing posts with label nature speaks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature speaks. Show all posts

Nature Speaks: The Delights of Mabon - Welcome Autumn

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Golden Yellow Daisies Still Blooming in October and Feeding the Honey Bees

Article and Photos by Jennifer Rotermund

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the Fall.”  
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

I was a sun-lover when I moved to Seattle 15 years ago. Growing up in Upstate NY, I experienced Summers that were warm and humid. The sun was life-giving, and life outdoors was vibrant and verdant. My Summer vacations were filled with hours of napping on our soft green lawn, long days running and climbing through the woods and nearby mountains, or on family road trips searching for the best forest creek full of rocks on which to explore and climb. So, it was with this youthful enthusiasm that I approached my new life, all those years ago, as a newly transplanted north westerner, only to discover Summer in the northwest is our dry season. Our lawns go dormant and look dead, humidity levels remain low, and nature retracts, seeking refuge from the sun, awaiting the return of life-giving rain. I was a sun-lover when I moved to Seattle. Now, I love rain. In Seattle, rain is life. Rain is countless kernels of liquid life gifted to us free of charge, landing directly on our trees and in our gardens. Its a soothing balm that heals a dry crust of soil made angry by the Summer sun. Rain is cleansing and refreshing. I love feeling its return in September - and the return of Autumn.

Echinacea seed heads beginning to be eaten by birds

The Great Medicine Wheel turns to the Western Gate as we welcome Autumn’s return. Mabon, an ancient term for the Autumnal Equinox, marks the brief time in September when the Sun aligns with the Earth’s equator, and the length of day and night are roughly equal. However, the days are shortening quickly now. And as we spend more time indoors, so too - if we allow it - do we find ourselves turning inward, slowing down and reflecting. Our ancestors would spend the coming few weeks pulling in their final harvests (just as we do now in our p-patches and vegetable gardens) and collecting seed for next year’s crop. In fact, similar to Spring, Autumn is a time when we often feel compelled to take stock of what we have and clear out what is no longer needed. This is a natural process we feel, perhaps now encoded into our DNA after so many generations. This drive, I believe, is what gave us the phrase I hear every Fall called, “putting the garden to bed.” I love that phrase. It’s perfect for this time of year, but I think the value and true meaning held within the wisdom of that phrase has been somewhat altered over the years. 

Nigella and Calendula seed heads are full of nutrition

Typically, when clients call me in to “put the garden to bed” in the Fall, they include requests to cut everything to the ground, rake up and throw away all of the leaves and fallen debris, and generally make everything look very neat and tidy. But when I think from the perspective of the soil life - from the beneficial fungi to the beloved earthworms - or when I think about the neighborhood birds over-wintering outdoors, and then I think about “putting the garden to bed,” I imagine a thick, warm blanket of leaves and fallen-over perennial stalks keeping Winter’s eventual frost from touching the soil. I picture layers of old fern fronds, bowing down to the ground, providing shelter to small birds through a cold Winter storm. I think about my Summer flowers, turned into mini food banks in seed pod form, delivering necessary sustenance to our wildlife through Winter’s time of scarcity. When I think about “putting the garden to bed” (and I do, just like everyone else), I remind myself that Spring cleaning is my time to clean-up and clear-out the garden. Once Winter’s cold hands have released their grip, when both the air and the soil temperatures are lifting new growth back up from the garden bed, that is when I prune and clip and rake and prepare for the new growing season. But in Autumn, I remember that just because I’m spending more time indoors, does’t mean that the wildlife outdoors has that luxury.

Fall Color taking hold at Ronald Bog

Of course, there are a few exceptions to this light-handed approach to the Fall clean-up, and a balance of the practical can be weighed here. Pathways need to be maintained, if regularly traveled, for safety purposes - composted leaves can be slippery. Rake fallen leaves directly into garden beds as mulch, being careful not to smother small plants. Also, invasive plants that may have taken hold while everyone was away on Summer vacation still need to be pulled out, or else Spring cleaning could feel unnecessarily disheartening as these weeds take hold at a fresh new pace in March. Then, a few rare trees, such as Black Walnut and Eucalyptus, through a process called allelopathy, suppress the growth of any plant covered in the tree's leaves. Don't use those leaves for mulch. Finally, it's best to rake up the leaves and any fallen fruit from fruit trees - pests and fungi can over-winter in the fallen leaves and reinfect the tree the following year if not cleaned-up.

True, our gardens are ours. We can't help but feel a sense of ownership over something we tend and manage so carefully. Yet, it's not just us and the plants in the garden. There's a rich diversity of life out there - much of it also tending and caring for the garden. And, it's so easy to do our part to care for it. Now, at the beginning of Autumn, with the return of the rains, is the time to begin again.

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Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sacred sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.



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Nature Speaks Column Writer is a Contributing Artist at SummerSet Arts Festival

Thursday, September 4, 2014


Article and Photos by Jennifer Rotermund

Seven years ago, my partner and I moved into our lovely little Shoreline home, in the Echo Lake Neighborhood. Like nomads, we had previously lived in apartments from Bothell to Belltown, so we were thrilled to be settling into a true neighborhood and own a yard. Much to our delight, since we wanted to get to know our neighbors, we found a house without a fence around it. I've spent the past seven years transforming the entire property from lawn on all sides into a certified wildlife habitat and urban farm. 

But recently, I found myself feeling a little over-exposed to the public (complete strangers walking by have begun to let their dogs off leash specifically to run around our yard and chase the wildlife, as if our yard was a public park, and doing damage in the process), so I began looking for ways to further protect the visiting wildlife while simultaneously expanding our existing habitat. Stubbornly, I also still refused to pay great sums of money to permanently wall off my entire property, but another idea began to hatch in my mind. 


Mother Nature, to me, is the best and greatest designer. From the swirl of a snail shell to the precise pattern of bifurcations of a tree branch, everything in nature seems to fall perfectly and beautifully into place. One day, I envisioned a natural fence meandering gracefully through my backyard similar to the old rock walls running along property lines in the New England, where I grew up, but made of sticks and branches and brush instead of stone.

I began pulling together branches and twigs from my garden and then setting them up, teepee style, in a naturally curved line along my back property line. I’d save dried herbs and perennial flowers, bundled to add interest, and some occasional conifer cones. Sometimes I’d even add in some natural yarn or wool for bird nesting material. To my delight, the moment I began this crazy construction, the birds and squirrels followed right behind me, busily exploring this new terrain. At the end of the day, I had a crazy, whimsical and wonderful privacy barrier that would stand up to the elements, slowly decompose in place improving the soil, and attract a greater variety of birds than I had ever seen in my yard.

As a professional wildlife habitat gardener, I've shared this idea with my clients and currently have several requests for others to be built.


In the meantime, I'm excited to announce that I'll be displaying a version of one of these walls in this year's SummerSet Arts Festival at Ronald Bog on September 6th from noon to 5pm. The theme of this year's festival is "The Journey Home," so in honor of that theme, and because this is a topic that is close to my heart, I'm building a four-part Wildlife Wall (as I call it) to stand in each of the four cardinal directions (North, South, East, and West) with natural items representing the spiritual symbolism of that direction from a variety of ancient belief systems incorporated into each section. This Earthen Sculpture will be fully interactive, and the center will represent the journey "inward" for each of us, or in other words, a type of "Journey Home."

The SummerSet Arts Festival is a gem of our city and a beautiful event that honors the original cultural traditions of the land where Shoreline now sits, and it showcases the beautiful and creative talents from our city. It's a fun, expressive festival that magically brings people together.  I hope to see you there. Please introduce yourself to me, especially if you've read this article and came to see this new creation: a Wildlife Wall!

Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sacred sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.


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Nature Speaks: August’s abundant harvests encourage summer’s graceful surrender

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Late Summer Asters
Article and photos by Jennifer Rotermund

There is a force within that gives you life —
Seek that.
In your body there lies a priceless jewel —
Seek that.
Oh, wandering Sufi.
If you are in search of the greatest treasure,
don’t look outside,
Look within, and seek That.

—Rumi, translated by Jonathan Star

In my twice daily ritual of gratitude (mornings and evenings), a repeated item on my list is that the cycle of life is a circle and not a straight line. I’m grateful that as we begin something new, we find ourselves embracing the conclusion of something else. That each conclusion brings the opportunity to begin some new chapter instantly gives me hope, and allows me to breathe again. August feels this way to me. June and July’s long daylight hours and frenetic pace are often more than I can manage gracefully. Air and Fire elements dominate in a way that feels wild and hot and free - and wonderful in its own way. But, it isn’t until August’s arrival that I feel grounded again and somehow finally ready for Summer to begin. Yet here we are at the season’s eventide.

Black-Eyed Susans
Beginnings and endings appear perfectly paired in August for a dance of life that is choreographed specifically for this time of year. We begin August with Lughnasadh (Lammas), the Gaelic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. Despite the heat of Summer, this is the end of a growing season that began in February. The green leafy vegetables I planted from April through June are now bolting and flowering. My onions and potatoes are finally ripening. Most of my ornamental flowers have gone to seed, and my deciduous trees and shrubs have begun to show off their early Fall colors. In the month where a backyard hammock seems like the most appropriate destination, it is in fact the time to get to work planting the next round of seeds and starts for the Fall harvest and for over-wintering. And so the cycle continues.

But do not despair. The ancient celebration of Lughnasadh gave birth to the modern-day country fair, which reminds us that there is still time to celebrate and be merry. The days are still long and the harvest season marks a time of abundance in life. The Rose of Sharon trees have just begun to bloom. This is the time of the Black-Eyed Susan, Penstemon, Agastache, Fuchsia and Cone Flower.  

Native Pearly Everlasting in a Mugo Pine
All of my Mint plants are now providing lavender-colored flowers for blissed-out bees. The native Asters and Pearly Everlasting are enjoying their moment of glory. Go to any local nursery and you will see that this isn’t the end of the season, but the beginning of the next round of exciting bloom. I’m so grateful for that beautiful, nurturing and glorious cycle that is life. How ceaselessly it inspires awe and wonder in its many transformations - especially in August. 

Special Note: I dedicate this article to anyone who has ever struggled or is struggling with depression. I have. In fact, throughout my life I’ve found January and August to be the two most difficult months to face - specifically, I believe, due to the deeply rooted aspects of change and transformation that are found at the very core of these two times of year. It’s all too easy, in times of change, to lose track of our own center of gravity, our own core, our own path. At those times when I begin to feel lost or even a little bit “off,” I turn to nature. For in nature, I find reflected the deep beauty that is within me - within each of us …. that deep beauty and inner light that is all too easily forgotten in our daily modern life, yet which is always there.

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Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sacred sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.

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Nature Speaks: Welcome the Return of Summer

Friday, June 20, 2014

May your life be like a wildflower,
growing freely in the beauty and joy of each day.
- Native American proverb

Bumblebee resting on a native Seaside Daisy flower

Nature Speaks: Welcome the Return of Summer
Article and photos by Jennifer Rotermund

June is the month of abundance and joy. You take dash of rain, a healthy pinch of warmer temperatures and several heaping tablespoons of daylight hours and you have the magical recipe for flowers, vegetables, fruit, and new growth everywhere. Almost all plants seem to know which element dominates this month as they bolt straight up toward the sun. In June, I harvest Strawberries like mad, and delight in the swelling Raspberries, Plums, Blueberries, Currants, Elderberries, and Apples following close behind. My herbs grow at a frenetic pace that I wish they could sustain year-round so that my natural pharmacy could always be this readily available and well-stocked.

Edible Nasturtium flower

This is the month of the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year for those of us in the northern hemisphere. The Great Medicine Wheel of the Earth has moved through Spring and stands fully open to the Southern Gate. Sun-worshipers delight in this time, as we enjoy 16 hours of daylight in the northwest. Even the Full Moon this month was known by our ancestors as the "Sun Moon" because the Sun dominates and delights every aspect of our lives in June. Reflecting this energy, our inner and outer light shines brightly this month as well. Just as each plant shares its unique flower or fruit with us, so too do we have the opportunity to recognize the unique gifts we have to share with the world. 

Blueberries in June

As a gardener, I love growing food in abundance for my family, friends, and to give to a food bank. Even the wildlife eat especially well from my garden this month and hardly make a dent in the crops. I love feeding and caring for others with what I’ve grown myself. But I also delight in watching the role that everyone plays in my garden. Visiting Honey Bees are producing honey for my neighbors two doors down, Bumblebees pollinate all my flowers all day long, Hummingbirds zip through the air ridding it of unwanted insects, while Earth Worms aerate and amend the sun-warmed soil. We each have gifts and talents to offer the world; with June’s abundance and the joys of solstice, we are called to celebrate and share these gifts. What are yours?

Love in a Mist flower facing the June sun

~~~
Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden /urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.


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Nature Speaks: The Lusty Month of May

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Edible kale flowers
Article and photos by Jennifer Rotermund

"It's May, it's May, the lusty month of May!” - Guinevere, from “Camelot"

This month begins with the swift passing of Beltane, the Gaelic celebration of May Day, on the first of the month, thrusting us toward the ever-approaching climax of the Summer Solstice in June. Like an orchestral movement building to a crescendo, the fullness of May is upon us. Increasing soil fertility, warmer weather, and the occasional lingering rain shower collide in harmonious perfection to match blossom with pollinator in the dance of life.

Merlot lettuce
In the northwest, thanks in part to the Seattle Tilth, May is “official” start of the food-growing season for the bulk of the population who choose to partake in this divine ritual. Afterall, what’s more hedonistic than having fresh food waiting for you to harvest it just steps from your front or back door? My partner and I recently had friends over to dine with us, and after they arrived, we invited them to join us in harvesting the dinner salad together from the front yard. We then enjoyed a fresh mix of four different leaf lettuces, kale, spinach, chard, arugula, parsley, mint, lemon balm and kale flowers, picked only moments before with loving gratitude to Mother Earth for the incredible miracle of being able to grow such ample nourishment for us. Mixed with a little olive oil, a splash of lemon juice, a sprinkle of coarse sea salt, and enjoyed with great company, what more is there to want out of life? 

Mottistone lettuce
And, we Shoreliners have it so good here. Not only is the Seattle Tilth available, at our finger tips, but we have our very own Diggin’ Shoreline as a beautiful resource for food-growing inspiration. Then, if that wasn't enough already, it gets even better. Unsure of what to grow in your gorgeous soil? Our locally produced, Maritime Northwest Garden Guide has vegetable, herb and flower plant lists, organized like a month-by-month calendar, informing you of the best time to start each plant to insure success.

Our local nurseries are now stocked full of plant starts for an easy jump-start to your edible garden, from local growers, such as Rent’s Due and Langley Fine Gardens. Or you can be wild and courageous and start your food from its most humble beginnings - the seed - from local, organic, non-GMO seed producers, such as Uprising Seeds (now available at PCC).

Baby kale
It’s as if the universe has conspired to make it easy for us to be happy. If you have a plot of land, a ready garden bed or even just a sunny balcony upon which to cluster a few containers filled with potting mix, delicious food and the pleasures of the season are within your grasp. Here, at the start of the “feel good” season, life really can be that good.  

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Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.


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Nature Speaks: Unfurling

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Sword Fern Fiddlehead “Nest"

Nature Speaks: Unfurling
(Article and photos by Jennifer Rotermund)

Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.  - Goethe

In the Pacific Northwest, April showers bring April flowers. Mother Earth doesn't feel the need to make us wait another month; she rewards our faith in the changing seasons expeditiously. Life giving water coaxes out the most delicate Spring blossoms and then wildly paints the world in every imaginable shade of green. 

Sword Fern Fiddleheads Unfurling

I find myself drawn every April out into our temperate rainforest on the peninsula, where the trees measure life in centuries rather than hours. To walk through a Northwest old growth forest on a rainy day in April is to indulge the primal part of you that is still connected to everything. The heady musk of the forest floor is awakened by Spring rains and wafts up to greet you, sweeping away the stresses of daily life, and enticing you ever forward into the presence of giants I thank everything holy still exist. To be in the immediate presence of 500+ year old Western Red Cedar is to simultaneously experience divinity, while being transported to a time that even our eldest elders have long forgotten in their stories of wisdom. It is the essence of primal reawakening for me. I am stirred and moved. Something within lights up, is renewed and reborn. This is Spring in its most basic purity. 

Unfurling Lady Ferns

Spring is the time of the East, the air element, when the birds remind us of youth with their new songs of courtship. As Spring comes into full bloom, so too have we come full circle through the seasons and are beginning anew. Turning away from what no longer serves us, the fresh air of Spring inspires us to take those first steps on shaky new legs into something new. If we listen closely to Mother Earth, we hear her encouragement to be bold. 

April to me is best represented by the Fern plant and the simple act of unfurling. To unfurl is to make or become spread out from a rolled or a folded state, especially in order to be open to the wind. Easiest to spot as the ground cover in our old forests, our native Sword Fern (Polystichum munitum) holds tight all Winter at its core to a rounded nest of fiddleheads, which begin to gracefully lift and unfurl in April, expanding to their full breath and width in lustrous kelly green. Edible Ostrich Fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris) and Lady Fern (Athyrium felix-femina) fiddleheads faithfully extend tender new fronds into April's first chilly mornings in bright bursts of chartreuse. 

Unfurling Lady Ferns

Inspired by the teachings of the ferns and the wisdom of the trees, I ask myself, what are the ways in which my life is unfurling and opening as I face each day? As the sun travels a progressively higher arc in the sky, and the days swiftly lengthen, with my feet firmly rooted into life, how do I expand myself newly to meet the opportunity of each new day? I chose to be bold and to follow what inspires me most.


Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.


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Nature Speaks: Welcome Spring’s Cleansing Renewal

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Ribes sanguineum “King Edward VII”
a cultivar of our true native
Text and Photos by Jennifer Rotermund

Dewdrop, let me cleanse
in your brief
sweet waters...
These dark hands of life.
     - Basho

I love the rain in March. Like a lion or a lamb, I do not care how it arrives. In November, the rain signals the true end of another growing season. In December, it feels harsh. In January, it's just plain cruel. In February, it mocks us relentlessly.

But in March, when our clocks have sprung forward, when soil temperatures are warming, when early flowers finally emerge, rain's life-giving and cleansing qualities are clear. The natural world around us wakes up in a burst of new life, and I can't help but feel a mixture of relief and elation. Some ancient primal space within says, "Ah, good, you've survived another Winter."

Indian Plum flowers
The Great Medicine Wheel turns this month and opens to the Eastern Gate, as we welcome the Spring Equinox - Ostara or Eostre, as it was known to our ancient European ancestors and is considered to be the original source of the word Easter. For a moment in time the Earth’s axis is not tilting toward or away from the Sun; instead, it is directly vertical relative to the Sun, giving us almost equal length of day and night.

If we look at life as a circle, rather than a straight line, March marks a time of renewal, of shaking off Winter's cobwebs and dust bunnies and starting anew. We've made it through the end of the life cycle, and we are reborn again into Spring. The earth that has rested all Winter is now fertile and ready for new growth. And it is, in my opinion, the time when our Northwest native plants really shine. Our local cycles are written into their DNA, and they understand what we're all feeling in March - excitement, anticipation, an expanding sense of happiness from within. They feel it too!

Indian Plum against the sky in March
Indian Plum (Oemlaria cerasiformis), naked and invisible only a month ago, is now covered in white flowers that seem to glow from within. It's newly emerging - and edible - chartreuse-green leaves taste of cucumber and enliven the senses.

Red Flowering Currant (Ribes sanguineum) opens its jewel-toned pink flowers and welcomes the return migration of the Rufus Hummingbird in what feels like a perfectly coordinated arrangement. The earliest emerging honey bees and bumblebees also appreciate this beautiful floral display.

Oregon Grape (Mahonia sp. - there are several types), are just opening up their clusters of bright sunny-yellow (and also edible) flowers, which additionally delight the local hummingbirds and draw them away from their Wintertime sugar feeders.

Our early Spring Ephemeral Flowers - Trillium and Dodecatheon, to name a few - are just beginning to greet us again to let us know that they too have survived the Winter. (For a more exhaustive list of our native wildflowers with gorgeous photos, I recommend this website.

Oregon Grape flowers
March is the month of awakening and advancing. The pace of life is quickening, is "marching" forward. I find that I'm naturally inspired to take stock of my health, to clear out and clean out the build-up of Winter "clutter" (in all areas of life), and to make sure I spend time outside re-connecting - rejuvenating. Mother Earth knows how to take care of herself with her annual cycle of death and rebirth, and she has so much healing to offer us.

Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.


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Nature Speaks: Reaching Toward Spring

Tuesday, February 18, 2014


By Jennifer Rotermund

"I'd rather be a could-be if I cannot be an are; because a could-be is a maybe reaching for a star. I'd rather be a has-been than a might-have-been, by far; for a might-have-been has never been, but a has-been was once an are." - Milton Berle

Too often, I do this thing while I'm working in a garden where I reach just a little too far. I'm 5'8" with long arms and legs, and I'm accustomed to being able to reach the things I need - even if it takes a little extra stretch - without any extra help and without thinking too much about negative consequences. But there are consequences. My massage therapist chastises me about this on a regular basis because I keep throwing out my shoulders, wrenching my neck, and straining my back. Balance and harmony are not static concepts. They aren't something you achieve once, and the work is done. They demand moment-to-moment attention and adjustments.

Likewise, "reaching" takes many forms in life. Perhaps we reach to shut off the alarm that wakes us up each day, we reach to do a warm-up stretch or as we move through a daily yoga routine. We reach, through our mind's eye and the goals we set, for the things we want out of life. And, sometimes we reach out to a friend or loved one to give or receive comfort. There are endless ways to extend our reach. Knowing our limits, balancing right-timing and appropriateness with self-care, is just as important.


February in the Pacific Northwest feels this way to me. The month kicks off with the Pagan celebration of Imbolc, the midway point between the beginning of Winter and the beginning of Spring. Although it doesn't always feel like Spring is any closer, this is officially the beginning of the growing season - the days are lengthening, tree buds are swelling, and early bulbs are sprouting out of the ground everywhere. Roses pruned right after Valentine's Day will respond with a burst of new growth and set up a new flush of flower buds. Collectively, all of nature is reaching; it's reaching for the sun and reaching for Spring. What inspires me is nature's ability to grow and reach at the right time and appropriate pace to safely navigate the obstacles of the remaining weeks of Winter.

The pea, one of the first edibles we can plant this month, demonstrates this balance beautifully. A pea, planted on President's Day, will quickly send stabilizing roots deeper into the soil while simultaneously sending a bright-green chlorophyll-producing stem through the soil's crust and into the air, reaching for the sun. This little shoot then instinctually balances growth with solar warmth - a warm day means more growth, cold days mean less growth - in a carefully orchestrated process of self-actualization.


I often turn to nature for deep wisdom and meaning. Gardens have so much to teach us about life. In February, I learn about stretching and reaching for life-giving goals, for those things that allow me to thrive, while also paying close attention to my boundaries and limitations. Spring is about expansion. In preparing for Spring, I expand and reach out a little further into each day in a way that allows me to happily wake up and do it again the next day.

Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.


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Nature Speaks: The Great Wheel turns as life begins again in the garden

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Seed organizing box
Photo by Jennifer Rotermund

The Great Wheel Turns as Life Begins Again in the Garden
by Jennifer Rotermund
"Often when you think you're at the end of something, you're at the beginning of something else." - Mister Rogers

I find January to be a difficult month to get through. The holiday season - which I celebrate from the Autumn Equinox through the end of the calendar year - is over and people take down their candles and twinkle lights, despite the fact that it's still dark and cold outside.

Since our local Flower and Garden Show takes place in February, and the first veggies (peas) can be planted in February, I admit that I tend to look at January as the month that stands in the way of the beginning of gardening season. I’ve been conditioned to see the passage of time as linear - a never-ending progression of past, present and future.

Red Flowering Currant,
already thick with sweeping buds
Photo by Jennifer Rotermund
Indigenous societies viewed time, instead, as circular. The Ancient Druids of Europe, as well as most Native American tribes, historically referred to the changing seasons as the "turning of the wheel."

In that belief system, Winter metaphorically represented the end of life, but also transitioned forward - through dormancy and the first stirring of new seeds - into a gradual re-birth with the inevitable turning of the seasonal wheel.

Spring represented early childhood, dawn and new beginnings. Thus, physical death never truly meant "the end" of the life cycle. Tibetan and Mongolian cultures, in fact, believe that those who have passed away are often reborn in the next generation.

In the Northwest garden, January marks the final depths of dormancy. We spend more time indoors, we comb through new seed catalogs, we allow Mother Earth to lie fallow, and we make plans for new beginnings. We dream grand, gardening dreams! But if you observe closely, you will see that the new tree buds are already beginning to swell. January is the time of the seed - the essence of the potential for life - yet already starting to stir with the turning of the great wheel of time.

~~~~~
Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden/urban farm and certified wildlife habitat/ sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality.


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Nature Speaks: Winter dormancy in the garden - an opportunity for rest and renewal

Monday, December 23, 2013

Photo by Jennifer Rotermund

By Jennifer Rotermund

Andras Corban Arthen tells an origin story of Yule, called "The First Song," where the first children of the earth (the first plants, animals and people), created by Mother Earth and Father Sun, live and celebrate and thrive through their first Spring and Summer only to be greeted with the shorter, darker days of Autumn and then Winter, as Father Sun moves far away and Mother Earth grows still and cold. Distressed, these first earthlings turn to Sister Moon for help, and she advises them to think their happiest thoughts and then “yule” (related in an ancient language to the word "yodel" or "yell" and means to call out in song). So it was their yule-ing (or singing) that drew Father Sun back toward Mother Earth again, wrapping everyone in his warm embrace, and heralding in a new Spring.

The beginning of Winter in the Northwest can be especially challenging - the days are short and dreary, and the holiday season can leave us feeling exhausted. Outside we're confronted with the cold air and a garden that appears to be mostly dead. Yet it is at this time that we are given the gift - modeled for us in nature - of dormancy. 

Winter Crow
Photo by Jennifer Rotermund

Dormancy is defined as a state of quiet, temporary inaction. A plant's energy is retracted back from the growing tips of the stems and branches, down into the roots, for storage in preparation for new growth the following Spring. As the days shorten in Autumn, and the temperatures drop, the metabolic process in the soil decreases and dormancy begins - gradually at first, but reaching its peak during the darkest, coldest days of Winter. This pause, this period of rest is essential to the health of all plants; continual growth is not sustainable in nature without dormancy.

I find great comfort and wisdom in this cyclical demonstration of slowing down, turning inward, and allowing rejuvenation to take place. And I find it interesting that we have traditions that inspire us to gather with friends, family or various social groups to sing at this time of year. In many indigenous cultures, singing is considered a form of medicine. Teacher and dancer, Gabrielle Roth, was quoted as saying, "In many shamanic societies, if you came to a medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask you one of four questions. When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?"

Winter is the time to slow down, find comfort in silence, and when ready, begin to sing (and dance, if you'd like!) toward the pending Spring - after all, in nature, dormancy is followed by a time of beautiful, yet incredible growth!

~~~~~
Jennifer Rotermund is the owner of Gaiaceous Gardens (an urban farming and wildlife gardening business with a teaching garden / urban farm and certified wildlife habitat / sanctuary located in Shoreline). She is a Permaculture Designer, is certified by the National Wildlife Federation as a Habitat Steward and serves as a Docent at the Kruckeberg Garden. She is also an ordained minister with a particular focus on earth-based forms of spirituality. 


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