March is Green and Misty

The early misty Marchy morning and me.

Oh March!  The past few days have found me feeling very sensitive and heart-achey for no apparent reason, other than the early spring... when I think of how my heart feels, I have the image of dark, damp earth being pushed aside for a fresh bright green shoot reaching for the yellow warmth of the sun.

Early as it seems this year, I welcome Spring. I welcome the open and raw feeling in my heart, as if someone has removed an armor breastplate after a long and exhausting battle.  My ally has been motherwort so far this year.  I need her loving support since just the beauty of the wind on my face can make me tear up with the sheer beauty and enormity of the experience.

I had some spare hours on Saturday morning before the 10am opening of the Woodfin YMCA Winter Market.  Being on the sleepy side of town, the shops were still closed and the roads nearly empty, barring the threads of misty clouds weaving around the trees, snaking up from the creekbeds.

A living rock, soft and green.

My car went past the road for the market and past the town limits just a moment later.  I kept going, until I noticed a fork in the road, pointing out the Blue Ridge Parkway entrance a few miles down the way...so I pointed myself in that direction and onward I went.

The sun was not quite above the mountain range, and so the diffused light through the clouds was pale and wan.  The mist was backlit as it curled around the top branches of the pines and oaks, or spun itself into circles in the little valleys and nooks.  I made my eyes stay to the road until I finally reached the Parkway entrance road and found a small pull-off.

I am a cautious person, and do not often go off on adventures alone.  I fret and worry and fill my time with stress instead of the sought-after peace...but not today.  The pull of the forest was so strong that I could not resist and with cameras in hand, went down the trail that began at the end of the pull off.

Wild Violets and
Mouse-Ear Chickweed

Beauty greeted me..then the symphony of the woods.  There were crackling leaves, dew dripping from the trees, and as the sun began to climb ever higher, a growing chorus of birds.

Everywhere I looked was gray and green.  Grey rocks covered in green mosses and lichens.  Dark earth giving rise to tender, baby leaves of many, many plants.  Grey bark with mossy stripes, and the grey branches tipped with a green haze. the promise of future leaves.

I found a verdant patch of violets breaking the soil around the base of an oak.  Just a few days ago, I ate my first violet of the year...ah...so sweet and fresh!  Perfect heart-shaped leaves for a heart-achey me.  What a delight, and a gift...

I found mouse ear chickweed (growing between the violet leaves) and some other familiar spring friends like wild onions, henbit and uncurling ferns.  While exploring, I came across a mystery plant...the leaves were beautifully spotted with white.  When I touched the leaves I found that they had a slight thickness to them, and they were soft and peach-fuzzy.

With the help of a Plant Identification group on Flickr, I now know it to be Hydrophyllum macrophyllum, large leaf waterleaf.  It will grow lovely, long stemmed flowers in the warmer days to come, and the leaves will be more solidly green.

Hydrophyllum macrophyllum, large leaf waterleaf,
Early Spring Growth (March 2012)

I finished these pictures just as the batteries in my camera died, so made my way back to the car and wound down the curly mountain road.  With the sun rising over my left shoulder, warming my face and head, my heart felt lighter in my chest as the mist lifted from the treetops into the sky.

Michael, Angel of God

This story was originally written in 2009 while working retail in Downtown Portsmouth, Virginia.

They come in and see me sometimes, these Angels of God. Something about organic food draws them in, or possibly it is the Crossroads, the first and oldest heart of this town that funnels them into our corner market.

Michael came to me on Monday. He didn't make it farther than two steps in and then he froze still, his eyes locked to mine as I stood behind the register counter, smiling with a benign greeting. He offered me rapid and insistent blessings from his Lord, and I acknowledged them and offered them back in return.

"Can I help you find something today, Sir?" (and perhaps allay your intensity, which I will not otherwise flinch away from?)

"Look into my eyes, and tell me if you see God within me!"

"I surely do see God in you, Sir. I see him in everyone." (so easy not to lie, sometimes.)

He disagreed - he insisted that his God is not in everyone, because the Devil has a hold on too many people. Since I didn't agree nor care to argue further with someone so passionate about his beliefs, I smiled and shrugged in such a manner that he may find agreement therein if he chose, and thankfully, he did.

I was regaled with a story from when he was incarcerated - of the guards in jail trying to put his Holy Lights out - the selfsame intense orbs which threatened to burn me in my boots should I prove to be a demon or otherwise negative influence bent of the destruction of all that is Good in his world. He asked me name and offered me his: Michael.

Michael said that the Lord gave him that name, right after he cleared the fog of the guards' mace from his eyes. He says the Lord took away all of his pain, and I believe him. How could I not, knowing that the Holy and the Crazy and the sacred/scared Fool are generally the one and the same. I offered Michael my own blessings, and he left as intensely and abruptly as he came in.  He didn't need organic food, just validation from the witch at the crossroads, I suppose.

God Bless You, Michael - the blessings of whatever God you serve, for I don't think you'd care for mine. My pity goes with whatever demons your deep and wild eyes come across, for your God sends you forth with no fear...a dangerous course for ones so fleshy as ourselves.