A few weeks ago Tim and I went to visit our friends Chris and Cathy’s home and school at Wild Gardens.  You can take a digital visit through their SoulArtSystem website.   It’s a place where they nurture family, friends, plants, animals and earth.  Magical green things seemed to sprawl in every direction.  I couldn’t take it in fast enough – in fact my mind was moving too fast that day – with jittery agitation and busyness.  I could feel a sense of avaricious, grabby energy around “taking in” something new.

Cathy offered us a breath centered yoga class in the sunlit studio overlooking a verdant tree-scape and unruly garden plots.  I found myself trusting her guidance and then coming home to the place underlies surface turbulence.  She suggested we simply say yes to our experience – even if it was yes to saying no – which made me smile. I started feeling my body’s yes to the areas of spine and pelvis Cathy traveled with words.  Relaxing, breathing, trusting.

When we emerged from the studio, I could savor my friends, the sights, sounds and smells more slowly.  Cathy gave us a tour of the land, art and living spaces.  She generously invited us into her family’s special way of living.  Together they grow grasses, herbs, trees, vegetables, raise farm animals, craft foods, drinks, willow reed baskets, build, paint and mosaic.  Expressions of their creativity surrounded us.

One of the first things I noticed were the unusual Hugelkultur garden plots. These plant islands were manifestations of relationship.  I learned the whole process is about blanketing the earth and allowing life to emerge in the slowness of time, decomposition and growth.  Instead of discarding organic material into a compost bin you use it to build up a “hugel” bed.  You mound branches, leaves and grass clippings together with . . . “straw, cardboard, petroleum-free newspaper, manure, compost or whatever other biomass you have available, top with soil and plant your veggies. . . . The logs and branches act like a sponge. Rainwater is stored and then released during drier times. Actually you may never need to water your hugel bed again after the first year (except during long term droughts).”  They describe and illustrate the process in their blog post about Mini-Annual Hugelkultur Beds.

Cathy and Chris had placed little altars at the head of every plot.  The altars were archetypal and whimsical markers; they were invitations to slow down, really feel: maybe gratitude, humility,  mystery.  They charmed me deeply.  I feel like I’ve been under their spell nearly every day since our visit.

While I haven’t been much of a gardner, I understand having a relationship with nature.  There are special places I pine for, places I grieve for, places I cherish – places that have nourished and nurtured my heart and soul.  Green and living things seem all the more precious knowing that so many are slipping away.

This year my yoga has become early morning ramblings through our forests – clearing the spider webs threading through overgrown berry and nettle.  I’ve been visiting particular old and new growth trees, ponds, streams and rivers,    And now, this week, I had the urge to bow.  I bowed to the little pond where I take tea with birds and bullfrogs.  It was a deep, full bow – a Pranam.  I’ve learned that  offering Pranam can soothe and rejuvenate the body and mind. The feeling and intensity of respect and humility lingers and grows when practiced as daily ritual.  I can tell you it’s true – I feel it every time.  I see now – there are little altars everywhere.