The revolving cycle finds us each year at a different moment in the story of our own lives; the unfolding events of history change us, but the seasons do not change.
~Eleanor Parker
Dear Reader
This week had me out in the new Gemmo Forest herb beds with intern Lucie and later pulling onions in the front garden; both areas where Mullein is plentiful. From my first encounters, I fell hard for this Dr. Seuss character of a plant. With its plush pillowy leaves and towering cone of yellow blossoms, what’s not there to love about Mullein? Always a prominent and poignant reminder of life’s precious and divine cycles, I mow and cultivate around it, giving it the spaciousness it needs to do its amazing biennial thing.
The first year in the life of a Mullein plant is all about growth and survival, just as with most living beings.
The seeds sprout in disturbed soil and immediately develop a strong tap root, mining minerals and generously sharing with its companions. The fleecy leaves hug and shade the soil and form a living mandala. It is a superstar among support plants.
Over the winter, the rosette of green remains alive, yet dormant. When the snowpack melts and spring arrives, the second year begins with flowering ending in death. The first sign of a mullein having reached its second year is when a single thick stem emerges from the widening leaf base. By early June, tiny clusters of mustard-yellow blossoms with a lifespan of 24 hours spring forth. Over the course of the growing season, the sturdy center stalk can reach heights of 10 feet (3 meters). Up, up, and up the flowering continues, creeping higher as it grows, attracting with its nectar a host of solitary natives and bumblebees.
From late summer through fall, a single mullein can drop thousands of seeds, many of which remain dormant for decades until the soil is disturbed. Then this giant among plants, having met its production goals, completes its life cycle and dies.
I’m sure you can imagine a wide array of story lines that could be woven from this one stately biennial. Perhaps it's the story of a life of service, or the neighborly support it provides; I’ll be curious to hear what symbology has struck you. What caught me, a lifelong juggler of many projects, is the distinct and focused stages within the life of mullein. They seem to run in tandem with projects that are just beginning to grow and build their reliance as well as those ready to be seen and attract attention, and the one or two in the final stretch of completion.
Mullein growing in my line of sight provides me with an unmistakable visual reminder that in nature there is no skipping steps. There is a cycle, organized around life, death, and rebirth. No matter how passionate I am about a goal or cause, I simply cannot leap from seed to the harvest stage. Yet even at this wise age of 67, I still imagine that there might be a way to assist folks to quantum leap along with me. If this introduction into Mullein has you curious to learn more, I suggest tucking into this thorough post by my favorite Substacker, @holisticfarming.
It's been an abundant week hosting daughter Meghan and 5-year-old granddaughter Rowan. It is always such a delight to watch Rowan experience the land at each new stage of life. This year it was all about our hens, her favorite, Laverne, and collecting eggs for breakfast. Who knows what it will be next year.
Tucked into the richness of family time, another opportunity to pitch our Growing Growers apprentice program presented itself. As this particular program is only held 4x a year, it felt important enough to create time. Off I went again with Lucie, hoping to introduce her to yet another new experience with a larger audience and higher stakes.
The Cheshire County 100+ Women Who Care group is in its tenth year and once a quarter funds one nominated non-profit project through generous individual donations. The sum offered these days is approx. $20,000, an amount that can be a substantial boost for any non-profit, but for fledgling ones such as the Gemmo Forest, it would be a total game changer. Our nomination surprisingly advanced through the lottery to the finalist stage, providing me with the tremendous honor of presenting our request in 5 minutes. Lucie was allowed to join me for the closely monitored 5-minute Q&A. Although we did not walk away with the prize for the evening, we were awarded a warm and welcoming reception to an inner circle of donors and the opportunity to resubmit in February.
I went to sleep that night content in a job well done and pleased to share it all with Lucie. About 3 am a tidal wave of discomfort woke me. Something wasn’t quite right. I tossed and turned and eventually padded down the stairs for a cup of tea and the refreshing predawn air. What was bubbling within that I couldn’t quite name? I journaled and paused, too emotional for words. Walking the perimeter of the garden in bare feet allowed the core of the disturbance to come forth.
Although going into last night’s event I saw myself as a presenter, I now realized I was actually competing. Not just competing but doing so with my neighbors who also had deeply meaningful and well-deserved projects. How had I not realized that? After three years of attending and writing out my donation check, I never once considered what it felt like to be a part of the lineup. What I realized right then was that if we had been selected over the local unhoused shelter, the actual award winner, it would have felt wrong. Not that our cause is less worthy, but the Aquarian in me simply could not be at ease with this winner-take-all process. We live in a well-resourced community, so why are we competing was the question that I longed to ask.
In my increasingly troubled state, I understood that as much as I admired the organization, their generosity and direct funding process, I suddenly was questioning if it aligned with my values. In addition, I think the most bothersome for me is that I threw myself, and Lucie for that matter, into a competition without even acknowledging it was one. It wasn’t until I was on the other side of the process that I recognized it for what it was. Yet my greatest challenge is that no one else sees it as a problem. What to do? And does my plant friend Mullein have any answers for me?
It’s possible in my exuberance to fund the fully annual stipends for our two deserving young growers; I skipped steps. I believed we were in our second year, ready to sprout that stalk and attract interest, but perhaps I've leaped ahead? Could it be that we are in the growth and survival stage? If so, then I ask myself, how does this want to grow?
This is precisely the question we all are called to consider this particular stretch of days during the Sun’s transit through Gate 7. Looking to the Gene Keys for my insight this time, I see that the shadow of this period is division, which I felt the process I experienced did. Not intentionally, I am certain, but instead of drawing the various groups together to find creative ways to use the resources, they become divided into rival camps. Urgh, what tricky waters to navigate. The highest manifestation of the energy of this time is virtue, governing themes of leadership, future direction, and how groups of people organize and cooperate together. Perhaps as the days pass, there will be further insight and guidance. I will certainly pay close attention to the following shifting astral influences.
Energies I will be noting in the week ahead:
Saturday, 8 August, The Lion’s Gate or Portal, a prime time to manifest who you aspire to be and the service you wish to offer
Tuesday, 11 August, Sun transit begins through Gate 4, asking us to consider what it would be like if we didn’t need to know all of the answers now.
Wednesday, 12 August, a very powerful total Solar Eclipse, the longest in this century, and New Moon in Leo. In the south node, it is about shedding the old identities.
Friday, 15 August, a Mercury-Jupiter conjunction, a beautiful opportunity to bring to life and communicate your big ideas and grand vision
Until next week,
Follow the Sun August 5-August 16
