Spring arrives Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Chocolate Lambs

This will be a quick pre-Easter post. I couldn’t believe my eyes the other day when I saw these chocolate lambs (with their tails dipped in white chocolate!) gamboling in the field behind our house. Naturally, I stopped my car and rolled down the window to take their photo – and couldn’t believe my eyes when they both immediately stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me. I don’t know what it surprised me so much, but it did.

It sure looks like these two could be identical twins. They couldn’t be cuter. And the two donkeys that share the field with them agree wholeheartedly, braying their approval.

Just another sign of the arrival of spring. Babies. Lambie-kins. Heck, I even saw sparrows getting frisky today underneath our feeders. Actually, the male snuck up behind the female and made her jump three feet in the air! Boy, did she give him a beak lashing.

Quick Pacha and Brutus Update

We’re all feeling the torture of not being able to play outside together. One has to stay inside while the other gets to frisk about outside. It’s especially torturous now that this warm weather has arrived. I wish I were quicker on the draw with my phone camera. Watching the pups try to catch bugs is simply adorable.

We’re all eagerly awaiting the end of this quarantine. The bright side to this, though, is that it does give Karl and me special one-on-one time with each pup that we rarely enjoy.

In the end, this ‘heat’ season may be bringing us all closer.

One thing I am not enjoying is the onset of tick season. Ugh. I just found two crawling on me as I wrote this post. Bleccch. I’m sure this warm weather is causing a tsunami of eggs to hatch. Ugh. Just the thought makes me shudder…

Just too cute – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+127)

Approaching Thunderstorm – Photo: L. Weikel

Spring Arrives Tomorrow

It’s quiet tonight, and I even have the front door flung wide open to take in the sounds of whomever might still be awake. The peepers were in full throat earlier, but the only voice I hear now is the wind’s, sighing through the tops of the pine trees across the way. Perhaps all the creatures fell asleep when they hunkered down during the thunderstorm that rolled through earlier. Spring arrives tomorrow, riding the coattails of the lightning that lit up the sky tonight.

As much as I love the peepers and tree frogs, though, I’m rarely disappointed when silence is the prevailing theme for the evening. In this moment, I feel like silence is an especially rare gift that those of us lucky enough to have it should receive with gratitude – and awe.

Daffodils Amid Ice – Photo: L. Weikel

Life Bursts Forth

The warmth of the past two days has caused a virtual eruption from within the soil. Croci and daffodils bloomed in a cacophony of color yesterday. With so much of our attention on the war and carnage in Ukraine, it seems almost weird to witness Nature’s relentless surge toward expression.

Weird, but are any of us truly surprised? I doubt it. We all know, if we’re honest, that humans may end up killing ourselves. But Nature will almost certainly survive. (I’d say it’s certain, but I don’t want to jinx it. Never challenge our species in the whole ‘who can make things worse’ category. If anything, ‘We’re number one!’ when it comes to that. Woohoo!)

Full Virgo Moon

Last night, the moon reached her peak fullness. A neighbor had a lovely full moon fire in the middle of her forest. It was gorgeous to witness as we wrapped up an early evening walk. At first it seemed risky but it was clear she had built it just so and neither a tree nor a leaf budding forth was in danger of being singed. In fact, the flames licking upward caused deep orange shadows to dance on the bodies of all the trees serving as sentinels.

A moon cycle comes to its apex. A season of introspection and rejuvenation ends.

Let’s envision skies that are quiet and peaceful rippling out across the world. A new season. A new way of being.

And precisely as I wrote the words of that last sentence, the eerie, unexpected bray of a donkey echoed throughout our little hamlet.

(T+102)