Journeying along our native song lines in an open enquiry into history, culture, the state of being and our relationship with the landscape through trees.
What is this? A good place to start. The moment is now.
I love this land, its’ curves and dips, the revealing concealing nature of it. The bend in the road, the valley not yet seen, the familiar places, and the paths not yet walked upon.
She is the storyteller, the wisdom keeper, the mother, the lover. She sings to me, she calls me to home. She carries me as I stand, and cradles me when I fall.
The landscape of close up blue and far away clouds and deep mists that cast silence out to the heavens and beckons us to dream with her.
This landscape of steep sided scree we scrabble at and scrape our knees tells us we are not who, or what, we think we are.
This landscape of soft downy meadows where lovers lie listening to larks.
This landscape of secret rains of hanging moss gardens in deep green fern fronded paradise dew laden. Aquatic jewels capturing a multiple myriad worlds on the back of a beetle.
This landscape of holy hills and rugged rocks scratched with strange sigils and locals with tall tales, distant remembered memories.
This landscape of bark rough beings the wisdom keepers who stand branching into past and future while we sleep beneath the emerald canopy watched by the queen of the fairy folk.
I have sat at the feet of many masters, but the trees are the wisest of them all. It is said that those with the greatest wisdom have spent time sat under a tree.
Come sit, and listen.
I love THIS.