Greenwitchaustralia's Blog

A little bit dress up, a little bit of green magic…

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The Great Big Enormous Parsnip

How do you cook a one metre long parsnip in a thirty centimetre oven without cutting it up… and how do you empty a lake, polish the bottom and put the water back?

I love the kooky space of my night sleeps. While they appear a bit random and ridiculous, night thinks are most informative.

These two dreams from this week seem like great parables to me. Feeling refreshed when you have a toddler and a teenager, how to juggle work life balance, how to find a house that meets our needs that we can actually afford and want to live in… They all seem a bit impossible, like the princess in Rumpelstiltskin being asked to spin straw into gold overnight.

These are the great sorting dreams. Sorting this from that, and working out what’s yours and what belongs to other people.

I have no answers today, but love the way my unconscious state is continuing to problem solve for me and work out some next steps to my modern-day dilemmas. If not I will put out there for a morning waking answer from my fairy godmother… or, she who knows.

Any ideas on cooking that parsnip?

Green Blessings.

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There’s Gnome Place Like Home.

Earl the gnome has been with me for about ten years. He looks more wizened than that, old soul that he is. He’s in his third home since we met, and while he is obliging he is yearning for a place to stay for the next couple of hundred years, or so.

While I don’t expect to accompany Earl for that long in the earthly realm, I certainly share his desire for a patch of our own. There’s gnome place like home.

For as long as I can remember Gardens have been my default dreaming option. I’ve planted many metaphorically speaking, some thriving, some with a few too many aphids. These days my gardens are doing much better, and they are starting to make their mark in my earthly world.

I do some small time gardening at my rental property. A few potted herbs, a few lettuces (well-tended by Earl), and the oaks that have been travelling me for the last three years. I also dabble in a one year old community garden plot that is starting to emerge. I lose myself there when I go trowel in hand.

But more recently I seem to have quietly become the custodian of a very Secret and very special garden. Without realising it, I had stumbled across the very garden that has been in my dream space for at least ten years.

When I first met this garden, I kinda liked it, but wasn’t that quick to recognise its beckoning call. The garden was knocking on my subconscious door for a few months before I answered.

And then a sow thistle asked to be removed…

The last few months have been a whirlwind as I have claimed this space as a welcome respite from my busy world. I have weeded, and pruned, and dug and manured, and removed debris and swept and sat and listened. It is starting to tell me what to do. I am truly with joy.

A heart garden is not always what and where you expect it.

But a heart garden will always meet your greatest inner needs.

Green blessings.

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Baba Yaga and the Lost Ring

The Baba called out to me last night in my fitful, exhausting dreams! The immense and never-ending task of sifting my compost. Uggh! It’s winter sodden, poultry manure enhanced and cold. I woke with a knowing that I’d lost my wedding ring while working in Baba’s Garden…and I had. Tears, admonitions, more tears. “But I washed the socks, raked the leaves, boiled the bones and turned the compost. What more could Baba want?” I consulted Women Who Run with The Wolves and read about the Sixth Task- separating This from that and thought… this might be my work, but I felt confused.

As I sat in sadness I knew it was time to consult one wiser than myself. One who knows. I posted my plea on Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estes site with no expectation of hearing anything.

What I posted

Yesterday after a days hard but fair toil with the Baba Yaga, boiling the bones and washing her socks, I had a strange dream about sifting a huge pile of compost. I woke up and discovered I had lost my wedding ring in my efforts. With a sore neck (from raking) and a sad heart (from losing a cherished ring) I ask you wise one, whether I need to sift the compost or seek for something deeper? Green Blessings.
Added by you
to “Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes”

And glory be I got a reply!

The Reply

Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes dear cs; assuming you meant consensual reality re raking et al, go look for your ring. If that’s where it is, it will still be there waiting for you. Pay attn to what goes through your mind as your separate this from that. That may be the fire from the skull, literally. See? with love, dr.e
Yesterday at 10:08am

And so the sorting begins. The ‘separating this from that’. I made offerings to the garden sprites, and symbolically turned the compost. I couldn’t focus fully on the task, distracted by the shiny thing (the ring) rather than the journey. So quickly I realized my error. FOCUS. This is a recurring theme for me, so needs some attention. I am committed to my task now. Today I raked over half the garden. Tomorrow the other half . I have neat piles of leaves instead of the scatter gun gardening that I was doing the day before. The compost still has to be sifted. I am hopeful my ring will be found.

I will FOCUS on FOCUS.

Special Thanks to Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estes for continuing to be a beacon of hope and inspiration to so many, and to Baba Yaga for keeping me on my toes.

Green Blessings.


The sea of tea.

“I have drunk so much tea today I am awash and fear I will float away… How much tea is too much?” I put the kettle on to reflect on this text from a friend. I do love a nice cup of tea, especially with a sweet biscuit or two.

Pondering the question, got me thinking about lots of too muchs. I have a few, the most significant being an impressive book collection that often threatens to ooze out the seams.

Once I had a fabulous dream about living in a house totally made of books. I knew the dream was important, and I’ve never forgotten it, despite the passage of at least twenty years. Years later when I stumbled across the amazing visual work of Colin Thompson in my favourite books of all time, I felt like I’d found my dream in print.

I’ve had many interpretations of that dream, but the one that I clung to, was that my writing would matter. I spent hours writing in my head, rarely committing anything to paper. Bit too scary that. What do you do if your dreams come true?

I spent the most inordinate amount of time reading and purchasing the books of others. At five large bookcases with overspill I called halt to this lunacy, and culled. I’m down to three bookcases and still shedding. I have come to understand that if I had saved all the money I had spent on books, I might just own a house now, instead of an image of a house made of books. The dream still teases me.

So I just keep writing. I write for joy. I write because I can. I write to get thoughts out of my head. I write to inspire. I write because I like the click clack of the keyboard. I write because I must. I write or I will most certainly bust.

My hall way is cluttered with books I’m trying to move on. They keep chatting to me, begging for another chance. Some snuck back on the shelves when I was making risotto. They jostle for positions, and plead to be worthy of my shelf. Alas they must go.

So, I have some books, well quite a few, that would like to go on new adventures.

They like to be loved, so if you might have a need, just drop me a line. They might be just the thing.

They could go to your house, the school, a friend, the kindergarten or wherever the demand.

So I have books for free, instead of too much tea.

Green Blessings.

Pop into 2009_04_01_arc..PS for her lovely sea of tea image and more!