It is a narrow mind which cannot look at a subject from various points of view.
~Mary Ann Evans (George Elliot)
Dear Reader,
It’s Gemini season. Can you feel the shift? So many ideas are popping in, forming passing word clouds that are almost too quick to catch. Oh, but do. It's too soon to know how they might be put to use, but you won’t want to miss this shower of insights and new perspectives. Late last week, Lois, Christine, and I enjoyed gathering with Astrologer Anastasiia Koryttseva. In our time together, Anastasiia did a magnificent job of breaking down the three periods of this season, each defined by the transits of Mercury, Gemini's ruler. The season, which runs from 20 May to 20 June, encompasses spring's final weeks and looks quite interesting and full of opportunities.
The continuous Gemini downloads didn't necessarily help my already active imagination. I soon struggled to narrow down a set of planned activities for the homeschool families who visit on Wednesdays. Now, three weeks into the More Food Less Lawn series, there is still so much I'd like to share. Multiple activities are never my goal. Instead, I prefer to anchor our conversations and explorations around one or two meaningful experiences that open up new ways of relating to the land.
On the unseasonably cold Wednesday morning (45 F), seated on the ground in the hugelkulture Tea Garden, I offered up the subject of clover. Could anyone identify clover from where they sat? What traits can be seen? How is it different from the grasses and other plants in the herbaceous layer? Once everyone was confident in identifying, I invited them to find a nearby patch and stand by it. Taking turns, they each shared what they noticed: the color, the leaf size, the height, and soon were surprised to note so many variations. A good opportunity arose then to introduce the idea of plant species and varieties, and how to remain open, noting the subtle variations of plants observed.
Clover is such a useful plant for gardeners and farmers alike, and it has a special place of honor within permaculture practices. Clover enriches the soil, supports biodiversity, and contributes to a balanced ecosystem. As a legume crop belonging to the bean and pea family of plants, clover fixes nitrogen in the soil. It does this by partnering with beneficial bacteria to transform nitrogen gas in air pockets within the soil into stable organic compounds that nourish surrounding plants. Since clover has a long taproot, it can draw nutrients and minerals deep in the soil. In addition to all of those benefits, the nectar from early clover blossoms feeds bees, butterflies, moths, and as a ground cover, it nourishes earthworms, important stewards of soil health.
In the Gemmo Forest, we have created mowed pathways to separate growing spaces and have seeded these pathways with clover over the past two seasons. But because new spaces are always being created, there is a continual need to seed more paths. And so on this chilly morning, in need of warming our bodies, we filled a dozen small bags with tiny organic white clover seed and headed out with one goal: locating paths without any or very little clover. This reverse treasure hunt provided the children who had been shy to explore the far reaches of the land a playful focus and became an adventure for those braver souls. It’s fascinating to see how having a mission and companionship can reduce fear in even the most timid. Families and clover seeds were soon scattered across the back sections of the forest, discovering together so much more than paths without clover.
Adventures are like that. Caught up in the newness of discovery, windows of the mind open, and suddenly a lens never before available casts light on our surroundings. I had a bit of my experience with a flash of insight during my dash to the Co-op yesterday. Wednesday's cold had turned wet and dreary, and by Friday, I had a hard time releasing all that the weather was preventing me from accomplishing. Windshield wipers swishing, clearing my vision for short moments at a time, the traffic ahead slowed. Glancing to my right, I caught the two lone words on the Epispical church sign and smirked. Be Open. The mood of frustration that I had carefully cultivated over the course of the day broke just enough for me to see through the blinders of choice I had created and laugh at myself.
I wonder how else I am not being open? Oh my, this will take some contemplation, not in a car in the pouring rain, but each morning in the coming week. To think that some sweet soul had been inspired to spell out those two words. Just imagine how many thought patterns that phrase interrupted. Perhaps this is one of the more direct lessons Gemini season has to deliver. I'll certainly be watching that sign in the weeks ahead.
Until next week,
