shapeshifting

Eggs. Three brown eggs a day. But no blue MeiMei eggs.

This afternoon I was in the garden and lifted a straggling vine to fix it to the wall. Beneath it is an old half-barrel with the remains of last year's compost in it, unplanted this summer because the hens just dig up new plants. And in the barrel...seven slightly mucky-looking blue eggs.

That's abundance.

That lunar eclipse turned my brain into Spaghetti Junction last night. No sleep for the inspired. But no clear thoughts either. If I was to write a long (too long) post about my interwoven thought processes right now it would include these threads:

• Online business coaching is producing multi-levels of clones and if the only business they have is telling other people how to run their business telling people how to run their business, who is actually doing anything? Making anything? Creating anything? I see the need for business coaching and there is some incredibly inspiring, fresh stuff out there but ohmygod sometimes it's like standing in a hall of mirrors. Of course I'm not an entrepreneur and I don't need to read any of it but when it's good, it's good. I like good now. Good's cool. Cloning isn't.

• Some of us may have no urge to take over the world but we still want to be part of it. We still want to have left some small positive imprint. And look, Bindu has been reading my mind.

• Being a catalyst for positive change among your immediate circle is a wonderful thing. The common ground you probably share will mean your interpretation of something is more likely to spark change than would the words of someone living an entirely different life. Why throw a whole lot of seeds on stoney ground when you can watch them thrive in your own back garden? I have been inspired to make real change by a number of close friends recently. Even though I've known for years that what they say is true, it took their voice and perspective to bring it home to me.

• Building an emotional immune system (my kind of parenting).

• Age ain't nothin' but a number. Voicing my trepidation of turning 50 in two years has made me realise that the number is simply a marker of how long I've been here. It in no way defines who I am while I'm here. I could as easily label myself as having arrived at 09.30 GMT. Who cares right? But I do think that in my mind it signifies an age at which I really should have grown up. And that's what I'm aiming for. Maturity. A smidgeon of wisdom from the many lessons I've lived through. Less manic intensity. Waaaay more serenity (no, not that one). Serenity is what I've always hoped I'd find when I grew up; I guess the unnamed project is a way for me to get there.

• I love the flavour. I'd forgotten just how much. Next year, now I know to pick before they flower, I'll be harvesting my own.

• Tasha Beagle has been rehomed bringing my charges down to three. And, with so much less to do now (there were seven dogs when I started, three have been rehomed and one passed away) I'm only going to visit them once a month. I have been given three Tuesdays a month to do something else. That's good.

• Megan Matthieson

• Restless. I'm restless. I'm getting that 'throw everything up in the air and see where it lands' feeling. I do not know if or when I'll act on that feeling. I do not know what I'd like to see in that new arrangement. I just have a feeling that there is space for something else. Something outward-facing and important to me. Something real and gritty and true.

• It may be wrapped in something imagined and shiny but still true.

• Thursday night is yoga night.

• The project...it is unnamed.

• Awesomised conversation and laughter with Susannah at Cafe Lucca. Also, standing at one of the busiest corners in Bath while she pokes her upper arm and shouts,"I mean, what the F*CK is THIS?" much to the amusement of me and many passers-by. @photobird...keeping it real.(N.B. It's perfectly normal triceps, in case you're concerned.)

• Dreaming of teaching people to fly by firing them out of massive cannons. I tried it, it was AWEsome.

 See? Scrambled. Good, but scrambled.

x

Valerian in known for its calming properties, soothing anxiety and balancing moods. We have a lot of valerian growng in our garden and I can verify that I never feel anything but calm out there. Of course we also regularly have seven Jimley Jackdaws on the bird table, a bunch of silly chickens, sunbathing dogs and a small child showing an unreasonable amount of talent at kicking a ball. What's to worry about?

Our very nice, conservation-minded Landlord has it in his head that there are too many jackdaws around this year and they're killing the songbirds. They're not. Anyway, he wants to make a pre-emptive strike and shoot the jackdaws.

my work station

We have jackdaws living in our chimney stack or, as Evie calls it, our jimley. They are The Jimley Jackdaws (and if I ever change my name by deed poll again I'm going to be Jo Jimley-Jackdaw because we all know that would be awesome). I love our jackdaws and do not want their death or the deaths of their subsequently starving chicks literally hanging over our heads.

I quite like it.

(Young jackdaws have pale blue eyes.)

Chicka meets Idgie and Ninny at their front door.

See the beautiful blue/greens? Chicka likes to perch. They're perchers, this family.

MeiMei - always moving. Little Brown Hen. Sweetie.

The Flag of Chicken Nation from an original design by Evie.

Sweet MeiMei lays blue eggs. This was her first one for us.

Late afternoon. Horses in the field = Nell on a lead. #herder

I look at this and a sob explodes in my heart. Is he not perfect and wild and beautiful still?

This weekend was brought to us by potato printing and branch weaving. Evie wasn't feeling 100% but she managed to bake some Play-Doh and print with some potatoes. I'd hoped she'd do some making of patterns and be all inspired but she's so tired bless her. I ended up doing the carving while she painted and stamped and had way more fun doing the washing up before retiring to the sofa to crash out. The child needs some sleep.

On a mission for supplies, I brought home these branches to try my hand at weaving on them. I particularly love the smaller ones with the beautiful lichen but, as I wove happily away last night, watching the increasingly dark Being Human out of one eye, I found that most of that lichen ended up in my lap. This is how we learn.

It felt good to be making something. Once I've had a practice run I want to weave something beautiful for the wall. Just because.

x

Thank you all for diving in on my rant yesterday; it seems I am not alone! I do hope I didn't come across as ungrateful. I'm profoundly aware of how good a life I have with my home, my family (need I add that I include 2 and 4-legged members?), my life in nature that nourishes me. I love and deeply appreciate their presence in my life.

There is a part of me that is unfulfilled and becoming increasingly stroppy about it. I swing between feeling guilty for wanting (even) more and feeling guilty for feeling guilty for wanting (even) more. Why shouldn't I want more? Because I have so much already. But why shouldn't I want more? Because...yadda yadda yadda. Dizzy.

Yesterday afternoon we got some sunshine and I went out with Nell and Jackson. We walked down a long narrow-ish field towards the Withy Bed, the old local name for the willow copse. In the field above us, farmers were turning over the earth and spreading manure, a practice that always brings in the birds. Where there are small birds there are bigger birds and when there are thermals, those bigger birds will be buzzards.

This picture of a Chalfield buzzard (maybe even one of those I saw yesterday) was taken by Charlie.

I once thought I'd seen five together, usually the most would be three at once, but yesterday there were nine. NINE. Possibly even ten. All soaring on the warm air in a bright blue sky, distinctive calls ringing across the fields. Pure magic.

We walked back along towards home and as I got to the gate - some distance from where I'd stood and watched the birds - I noticed one had followed us. I stood and looked up as it came closer and closer before circling a while over my head. It clearly took a good long look and then flew off. I've never been so close to one of these beautiful birds before.

Looking up the symbolism of the buzzard it became clear that there is a difference between UK and US terminology. In the US a buzzard is usually included with vultures; here it's a hawk. So I focussed on hawks and found this:

Intuitive ability to discern the message and seek the truth is one of Hawk’s powers that he imparts to humans. He teaches people to provide for self and family. Another lesson is to be observant and pay attention to what might be overlooked, possibly a talent unused, a blessing for which gratitude hasn’t been given or a message from spirit. He teaches people they must be awake and aware. Hawk’s medicine helps people to know how to interpret messages from spirit by bestowing upon them a higher perspective so they can see details of the bigger picture. He cautions humans to times when not to take action because they don’t have all of the information we need yet.

I haven't blogged in two weeks. February is racing through with me gasping for breath behind it!

My online time has been limited to the stuff I can do with one eye on the screen and one on something else. Twitter and Pinterest are my bestest of friends right now and oh, how I love them.

My etsy orders are all up to date at last and I've listed some new little plates. I have a new idea for some special magic to add to the store but I think I have to wait until March before I'll have time to make it real. I've also learnt...have things ready before you list them.

I've also found that Reiki and I are supposed to work together for people as well as animals. In my spare minutes I've been playing with my 'front page' to reflect this change. Early days yet but I want to add much more as time goes on. The first step is to get out there and do it. Cash flow dictates my timetable with bigger projects so I have a portable couch and my insurance to cover before I'm really out there, but this will happen.

My extra day's work a week - with the Beagles of Lurve - is wonderful. It feels good to be outside doing the kennel work, keeping my body working hard while my brain takes the chance to get stuff in order. The second half of my time there is spent bathing and grooming and yes, okay, cuddling these lovely dogs. I finish, I run a couple of errands and then it's Evie's home time. The change in days I work at the office has thrown us all a bit and the question,"Wait...what day is it?" is bounced around the desks while we adjust. New rhythm is settling in though.

Through these minor changes Evie has been my priority. She's suddenly grown up a lot and with that development have come big questions about China and her birth family. Her understanding of her story has deepened - she's been told an age appropriate version of it since before she could talk -and with it has come a wave of grief. I'm not going to write about her feelings here but I can tell you mine were shaken when - as she sobbed and I rocked her to an "it's okay darling, it's okay" mamamantra - she looked at me and wailed,"But it's NOT okay Mum...its NOT okay." And no, it's not. So she reminded me of the underlying truth of our family, easily forgotten during these early innocent years, that adoption is built on profound loss. Adoption following (possibly enforced) abandonment...oy. Time for me to dust off my adoptive parent certificate (oh if only) and remember the full width of this path that we've chosen (and that she hasn't). I know our bond is strong and I think we've built strong, loving foundations around that original loss. I have healing tools that I can add to the mix and this, here in our own home, will be where they will be called on most.

Charlie spent a few days in Spain this month on a blogging gig that - I could feel his pain - also involved a large amount of birding. and just as his feet hit the ground he's off next week for two days training on a new fundraising job for the RSPB. It's half-term week so Evie has no school, Auntie has a new full-time job, Nana is not too well and already booked up with the cousins and we've been caught on the hop a bit. I foresee a bit of work-experience in charity marketing for a certain five year old. Thank goodness for an old-hippy-workplace.

So. Yes. Life! I feel as if I've been shifted into second gear after months of grinding along in first. I've found endless strength and support in Reiki, journey work, nature, family and friends to whom I owe many emails. I have so much that is precious in my life and looking after those things takes time and energy that sometimes perhaps I'd rather spend on something more about me-me-me and my personal path. Yes, life could be easier but it would be infinitely poorer too. These are the lessons for an introvert.

Are you as ready for Spring as I am?

x