Been a while since I've been able to post, but here I am.  A week ago last Saturday, I went to visit my Mom out in the countryside where she lives.  It's about an hour's drive away, and we were actually going for my daughter's birthday.  And I took our dog, Buster.  He's a beagle/american fox hound mix, and definately has the nose. We live in the city, in a small trailer park, and he doesn't get to run free very often.  He gets lots of walks, but never really gets to run. He used to try to escape out the front door, and when he did he'd lead us all on a merry chase through the neighborhood.  He doesn't try to escape as much now, but we still keep an eye out. Not everyone in our neighborhood is friendly to dogs, and he's a very trusting dog.  And many people don't really seem to watch when they drive, even had a kid get hit not too long ago. So he doesn't get to go free.

It was, by all accounts a wonderful, beautiful day, and I thanked the gods for it.  The sun was out, and it was giving us just enough warmth that I could go around in short sleeves, and not feel the cold.  As soon as we got there I let Buster go, and after greeting Mom's dogs, he ran, with his nose to the ground of course. We had some time to go before the other guests showed up (just a few friends and family) so Mom and I went out to the garden and spent some time picking her peppers and marigolds and pulling her old tomato plants up, and removing the cages that supported them through the growing season.

 Mom soon settled in to weed her blueberry bushes (all three of them) and I found a nice spot to lay back and watch the clouds. 

There weren't many, but the blue sky seemed to go forever.  The only audible sound was the whispering of the trees.  I laid my hands upon the earth and felt her settling in for the coming winter months.  Not quietly, not really.  The seeds may be slumbering but the small animals that help move them were surely burrowing.  The leaves, which have just begun to fall, were beginning to add their layer of security to the old growth from summer, a winter blanket in it's earliest stages.  The trees were humming with life, that last gasp before the long sleep.  I felt it all, and was again reminded that we are all connected to our home, whether we accept her or not. 

I felt that connection and was honored by it, and renewed by it as well.  I was drawing in energy without realizing (duh!) that I was doing it.  And when I finally got up, I was buzzing a bit.  And then the guests showed up so I didn't really get to do anything with it.

Mid way through the long afternoon, I realized I hadn't seen Buster for a while, and decided to try something I'd not done before.  I found a quiet spot and imagined myself as a dog, following his scent, and when I caught it I followed.  I used the imagery of the forest; the loamy soil, the rustly leaves, the smell of autumn in the air, and the scratchy bushes, to help me.  And when I felt him there, I told him that I needed him to come back, not to go home yet, but that I needed to see him.  I sent him images of the ear rubbings and back scratchings that would ensue.  Then I let go, came back to myself and went back to the gathering.

About a quarter of an hour later Buster loped into the yard, tongue hanging in a goofy grin.  He came right to me, (which he doesn't always come to me first, he's not just mine), and I gave him the promised reward and then some.  And so did everyone else. 

It worked!  Yay!

I did it again later in the evening, when I was ready to go home.  He took much longer that time, but I think he had gone farther afield.  He was exhausted too, the inside of his ears all scratched from the underbrush, and snuffling from all the gunk he'd inhaled from his travels.  He's always like that after a visit to Mom's though.  He was so tired that he had difficulty jumping up into the back of the car, and my daughter helped him up there.  Sometimes I worry about letting him do this, but he loves it so much.  And I do so love to seem him run.

Just a little something about what I've been up to...

My most recent hobby obsession is geneaology.  Not that it's that recent, I've been at it off and on for about 20+ years.  The bug comes and goes, and comes back around again.  Usually I'll come across another resource, and I've just got to try it.  Lately though, I've found myself being driven by a different motivation for it. 

When I was 14 I moved in with my maternal grandmother, whom I call Granny.  Yes, really, Granny.  Most of us call her that now, although some of the cousins call her other things.  Don't look at me like that!  NICE things.  She's a sweet Granny, long as you behave.  Just like other grannies, probably.  This year she turns 86, and she has many health problems, not the least of which is fibromyalgia.  It's taking her down, bit by bit, and I HATE IT.  And she lives 1676 miles away.  I can't afford to go see her anytime soon.  She is though, a tough old bird, raised three daughters and numerous grandchildren all on her own for the most part, and has a very strong spirit.  I call her as often as I can, and her favorite thing to ask about?  My geneaology research.  She askes about my munchkins too, of course, but then she wants to know if I've found anything else about this person or that person.  And lately, it's been her grandmother that she's interested in. I also ask numerous question too, because, folks, once that spirit has passed, we may not get another chance to ask those questions. 

Her grandmother was born in 1876.  I think she was still young when her mother died, probably about 10. She was the third out of 5 children, and married when she was quite young, to boy her own age, and they started raising a family just as the century turned from Victorian to Edwardian.  Their marriage certificate was signed by her husband's grandmother, the woman who raised him after the mysterious dissappearance of his own parents. (Thats a whole other story!) They had 5 children before he died, still young, from silicon poisoning from the foundry where he worked.  She eventually remarried, but before that was the first woman to ever recieve welfare in her hometown.  She had two more children after she remarried, the youngest (only six years older then my Granny) had down syndrome and died at the age of 19 from complications of congenital heart disease.  She told my Granny once that she loved him more then any other of her children, which seems strange to me, but who am I to judge?  Sounds to me like she was a very strong and graceful woman, and I wish I could have known this Great-Great-Grandmother. 

Now, the only information I got from my Granny about her grandmother was that bit about her loving the youngest the most. She's told me more of course, but I'd be writing all night if I wrote it all!  Everything else came from online records, hardcore searching and researching over the last six months.  I love it.  It's a puzzle, and usually whenever I find a piece, it only creates more puzzles!  But it's also like painting a picture of someone from a description.  You don't really know exactly what they look like, the nose just so, and the arch of the brows, so you get details here and there, and sometimes those details are hauntingly familiar, and part of your own reflected image.

The Values of a Vulture

While out traveling the roads this morning I was treated to a sighting of a huge turkey vulture.  She came so close to my car I could see her eyes. Her feathers appeared black at first, but as she flew away I noticed that they were more brownish.  And did I mention the huge wingspan?  They can get up to to six feet wingtip to wingtip, although I don't think this one was that big.  She circled down, flew alongside me for a moment, then flew up and away.  I was probably going about 45 down a country road, and she easily out flew me.

 Most people would not think of the vulture as special, or interesting.  And yeah, they really are rather ugly.  But they provide such an important function in nature.  They are the purifiers.  They eat the dead things, which they can smell from hundreds of feet in the air with their very keen sense of smell. Their digestive systems eliminate disease and bacteria from their droppings, so that whatever they have eaten, (and yes, the more rotten the better to a vulture) goes back to the earth clean. They are very patient, and will fly for hours, before finding an appropriate meal.  In the mornings they apparently spread their wings, welcoming the sun, (and drying the morning dampness from their feathers.)  The only have one or two young at a time, and stay with them longer then most other birds and are very nurturing. They are very social and often let others know when a large meal has been found. They rarely kill, although they do clean up after others.  They are a very integral part of the wheel, turning death inexorably back towards life.

So, upon further research I have discovered that the vulture was, in many early cultures associated with the mother goddesses. The Egyptians hieroglyph for mother is a vulture, and the goddesses Nekhebet and Mut, were known to take vulture form to protect the dead.  Isis was sometimes shown with vulture wings, and at Catul Huyuk there are murals depicting priestesses in vulture feather garments. In some cultures they are linked to vengeance, specifically of crimes against nature (the harpy is a descendant of this)  In many Native American traditions the vulture is seen as a renewing spirit, bringing in a new day.  They are the epitome of resourcefulness, making do with whatever they find, and leaving each place better for their visit.

Not sure yet what exactly my vulture was trying to tell me, but I am honored to have made her acquaintance.

I have been challenged by a dear friend to start a blog.  Having never done this before I am suddenly faced with the blank page syndrome.  You know, the deer-in-the-headlights what-do-I-say-now moment.  My life is very full, and sometimes scattered, (it is what it is, good and bad) and I have maybe more of these moments then most, but overcome them after a bit.  Hence this blog. 

Felawyrde is anglo-saxon for talkative.  I had a hard time deciding what I wanted to talk about on a blog, there are so many things.  So I've decided to go the semi-journalistic route and just talk about what strikes me that day.  Some of this will probably be stream of thought type writing, and that, frankly is what sort of bothers me.  I've always edited my writing before. 

I am Felawyn, some of you know me by other names.  This one works quite well.  I like to sew and make jewelry, although recently haven't had much time for it.  I still like to look though!  I am also a reader.  I read fantasy, sci fi, mystery, the occasional romance, and lots and lots of non fic. I like reading so much that I have made my career helping other people find what they like to read.  And along the way I get to find answers to questions for others as well as myself.  Yes, curiosity is one of my constant companions.

Welcome!