Moonfield – Awakening

It seemed like forever before the rains came. I know better than to anticipate; waiting like this makes me somewhat edgy. The air was still and the energy thick, influencing the tone within.


I mistook the wind for rain more than once, rejoicing prematurely only to be humbled by my impatience and expectations. It was a wise choice to go berry picking, barefoot, under a fickle sky.

I passed by the once perfect, now departed daisies, whilst following my well worn path. The mints seemed to be reaching out like eager school children, “Pick me! Pick me!” But it simply was not their turn.

I avoided the drama of the Blue Jays’ agitated clamor just beyond the fringes of the trees, the protective, persistent chirping of a chipmunk and the telltale signal of the approaching end of summer from the drone of the Cicada. Clearly in it together, we shared our tension.

However, my breathing came easier with the picking of each berry. From each passing, wordless song in the nearby wood, I reclaimed my inspired center and optimism. I stayed with the task, reeling myself back in when I wanted to wander somewhere else (but I did check on the flowering Milkweed on behalf of the Monarchs).

I considered powerful connections initiated in the New Moon, pondering limitless possibilities. I fought the impulse to retreat to safety, determined to tap into the fullest extent of my potential and higher souled aspirations.

I fell asleep to the sound of falling rain and awoke to the same – a gentle reassuring melody quenching both the parched earth and my spirit. Against my better judgment, I found myself amongst the black raspberries, barefoot (again) and with a tee shirt. My flesh provided a feast for ravenous mosquitoes. Ah, but I did well just the same. I encountered a few spots of mud that squished agreeably between my toes.

The rain stopped, giving way to tightfisted clouds, unwilling to surrender. I took note of a very unique spider that I tried to capture on film but just could not bring myself as close as need be. My peering at him and positioning of the camera caused us both to wonder.

Today I will leave my comfort zone in nature and on the page, and return to my canvas, which has been waiting far too long. It is through various mediums that we find new channels of creative expression and a deeper connection to the source. The seeds have been planted. The time for new growth and creation in the Moonfield awakens.
Journal: Scarlett Lily