Mother’s Day & Old Yards

Reposted from Jackthorn Life When We All Lived In The Forest (the group)
The fragrances of the essential ingredients of Lily of the Valley have a relaxing effect and gently caress the senses …
Apart from being a beautiful flower, the lily of the valley also has its healing properties. The plant contains resins, acids and sugars. Lily of the valley normalizes blood circulation and eliminates unpleasant sensations in the heart. It has a calming effect on the nervous system. Since ancient times, a decoction of the flowers of the fragrant plant has been used to treat heart problems.

Russian legend has it that these beautiful flowers grew from the tears of a mermaid who loved shepherd Sadko very much. She had such strong feelings for him that one night she decided to go to the human kingdom on her own and find him.
She wandered for a long time in fields, swamps and forests. And here, among the slender birches, she noticed two silhouettes, playing in the moonlight. This was Sadko with his beloved. The proud beauty turned and left the human world with a broken heart to hide in her water kingdom.

And only the moon saw her beautiful blue eyes shed pearly tears. They fell into the grass and turned into white flowers. Thus the maiden’s tear for the mermaids became a symbol of unrequited but pure love.

Lilys of the Valley grew in my mother’s yard, in the old yard from the first house in La Crosse. I loved them and loved that I got to pick them, bring them in a set them in small old vases. They grew around the side of the porch before the undergrowth began and the places where I could hide.

Mother’s Day

In celebration of all mothers, everywhere, of every kind. · 15 hrs · Nice Capture, Motherhood

And oh would we had known—as with so many things—how short a time those babes would be in our arms. How terrible and joyous the days could be. What music and silence.

Post Mum’s Day

Slump. When the kid leaves there’s this big yapping hole that slips within my space. The Indestructible Energy has moved to become peaking and waning motions of energy here, fields that shake or shiver or are silent. That’s the thing, Silent. As silent as remorse or a sleeping cat. A constant connection that moves like sound waves. Water through a hose, making a fountain of captured rainbows. Doors opened and shut. Words written on the air. Calm. Breathing. Returning to remembered cottages, and rivers.


Old Moss Woman’s Secret Garden



Simple Things

Flowers & Prayers