Spring Time for Action

Take my eyes off the computer, take back my feelings from watching the elections, put down my research materials, its spring time!

The main event in my front yard was the blooming pink flowers of the decoration plumb tree. She who enchants me every year by throwing pink petals in my path, falling from the tree like snowflakes.

My front yard is self-planted.

Some flowers are very imperialistically inclined. One spring there were just a few firepoker flowers, ill named for sure, they look more like orchids, in brick red. The next year they have colonized the entire front yard, and a year later they moved all the way down to the sidewalk.

I have noticed that my Morning Glories are also into expansion. I have planted one bush in the backyard to have something nice run up, on my aging old bamboo hedges. I watered it a little. I saw how they took off.

Next year Morning Glory sent out the probes. They ran on the ground all over the place.

They checked every possible way to get sunshine, and I am sure reported back to headquarters.

They did run up on the bamboo but they also overran all the backyards they could reach and colonized all the sunny spots. Now I see them all over the neighborhood, the original bush is not where they feed on. They have worked out other arrangements.

So as women, I think we should take heed from my flora. Let’s expand. Let’s step out from our allotted space.

When we gather in the fall it will be the first time in five years. There are no women’s festivals anymore like they were before in the eighties. Nineties.

All the music festivals from the west coast are gone. Women just don’t come out anymore. It might be age related. The young women don’t do festivals, the older ones feel it’s a little inconvenient.

But this year I was encouraged to produce one more festival, my tenth, that is wheel chair accessible, comfortable, bathroom in the cabins, everything is easy to walk to. We have changed the place to a new camp, Camp Harmon in the redwood forests near Santa Cruz.

There must be a time when we as women gather in nature to nurture our own nature. Women work to hard. We don’t play enough with each other. We don’t circle anymore. Witchy circles have become these mythical special little happenings, hard to find.

Not this time.

Let’s buy our very reasonably priced tickets, move the happiness of our souls. Let’s listen to birdsongs and inhale the free air from the redwoods. No bugs, nor mosquitoes. Simple comfortable beds at night. Good food.

For our minds we have all the Holy Book presenters, and the glorious past from the heroic age, when everything was born for the first time. Women’s spirituality, sisterhood, freedom of choice.

Its nurturing our souls to inform our minds about the women’s whose shoulders we are all standing on. In this case we are still here, in body, you don’t have to read obituaries just yet. Just have to show up.