Nature Rallies


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To Rally: to come together with strength, purpose, or renewed energy

Dear Reader

Since I last wrote, there has been quite the shift, a rallying that carried new energy and potential. Let's begin with Ruby's story. As I bring today's note to a close, she's leaped onto my lap, snuggling in as if last week never happened. Her late-in-the-game rally lasted, and she's made it clear she’d like a little more time in this world.

Perhaps it was the heartwarming visit from the compassionate hospice vet, the addition of fancy salmon mousse that she is eating with gusto, or an astrological aspect I’ve yet to note. I might never know the reason, but I do know we all walked away from that week a little clearer on what it looks like to hover between worlds, and in agreement on how we will respectfully support her when that returns. So thank you, Ruby, for helping us learn to be a bit more at ease with the inevitable.

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The weather also rallied. After a steady track of deep night freezes and barely warming days, we were treated to a string of balmy days and soft, warm showers. Not wanting to miss a moment of what was surely a transient theme, I used the time to complete a favorite end-of-season ritual: tucking in the remaining bare beds.

No matter how diligent I am about cover cropping every completed bed, a small cluster will always miss the window for seed germination. Covering the soil of each bed after a season of hard work is a way to say thank you and prepare for the next growing season. The majority of our beds received a sprinkling of my own cover crop mix. This year I used a blend of oats, red clover, and phacelia, which will die off over winter and form a mulch I can plant directly into in the spring.

Later in the season I use only oats, but now it's too cold for even those to take off and provide that needed protection. Instead, I use a mix of chopped fallen leaves and hay, mimicking the forest floor this time of year. Making the leaf/hay mix is half the fun and how I spent the warmest of the afternoons. Using my new mulching mower, I gathered leaves in the catch bag around the grassy areas, careful to leave banks along the edges for our invertebrate friends to overwinter. Each full mower bag fills a bed, and with 9 beds to complete, it made for an active afternoon in the glorious autumn sunlight. Dusk arrived with little warning by the time I wheeled out the bales of hay for distribution, so I made quick work of this top dressing.

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Expecting a rain by mid-morning, I was out early the next day with clover seed and straw for the pathways. The skies were dark, heavy, and promised a hearty watering, the ideal assist for germination. There is something about spreading clover seeds that brings forth a childlike joy and a bone-deep satisfaction that I am feeding the soil that feeds us. You don't need a vegetable garden to encourage the growth of one of the hardest-working plants on the planet. White clover not only pulls nitrogen from the air and feeds it to the soil, but is also a favorite among native solitary bees who enjoy the nectar of its blossoms. All of this, along with a spreading root system that keeps soil in place and prevents erosion.

Growing through the seasons, I have become highly considerate of resources. Using only what I need and always, always giving something in return. Sometimes I see the direct benefit of what I share, but often I don't; instead, it's about paying it forward for the next generation and beyond.

And so that is how my week went. How was yours? Did you experience any rallying from nature or otherwise?

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​Energies I will be noting in the week ahead:

Monday, 9 November: A New Moon in Scorpio and a Mars & Saturn square will have me expecting some deep revelations and likely some tension to take action. Channeling Mars's forward motion and Saturn's structure, I hope to focus on one important project I can move forward this lunar cycle.

Until next week,


A new format to explore coherence!

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Field Notes from Lauren

I began expressing my big Cancer emotions through writing at a very young age. For me, the unique act of writing is what allows me to process and evolve fully . Today, my weekly missives follow themes that weave between the literal fields of my work in the Gemmo Forest, our family homestead garden, and the energy field we all experience. My life now follows the rhythm of the land. From spring through fall, I can be found outdoors, hands in the dirt, working alongside her husband, Joachim, to tend our 7,500-square-foot family garden or with local volunteers caring for Gemmo Forest. When the cold sets in and the fields rest, I return indoors, where I rekindle my love of writing by the wood stove, always with my faithful calico, Ruby, curled close by.

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