Out in the garden, clearing out the last of the pepper plants and darkened tomato stems; removing stakes and doing battle with determined wild nettle that stings and burns right through garden gloves and dirt and fortitude. I intend to uproot the summers wild vines and wayward weeds, attempting to avoid just-planted bulbs and next year's lilys all the while.

A familiar doe returned on saturday morning with her rambunctious fawn in tow..she was a frequent and bold guest in early spring. I remember her as limping noticeably at the edge of the wood and worrying for her survival. Surely, she couldn't outrun or out jump any pursuer. How would she keep place with the herd?

And now she returns with baby in tow, moving with awkward grace on three legs; tripod in swift motion as agile as she need be. It comes to me that she is unaware of her limitations as she sees herself as having none. Her mothering instincts clearly in place, she steers her fawn and keeps him within safe range. She is Darwin's unlikely twist in my own backyard. She is her best self without limit or apology...and I watch her, duly humbled.

autumn notes

Morning was steeped in mist and damp, the earthy scent of mushrooms and clouds of feisty mosquitos erupted. Colorful garden snakes serpentine across pavement, most without success. Perhaps the echoes of storm and flood days from last month? Today marks the ceremonial beginning of autumn curiously void of scarlet leaves and carpets of pine cone. Hydrangeas fade into antique bouquets right on stem and turkey broods strut down driveways and circle mailboxes without trepidation.

Ancient peoples and current day farmers begin the task of sorting seeds this time of year. Spending moments noting which ones were indeed fruitful, which ones lacked energy, choosing which seeds to continue to cultivate as they look ahead to next years crop and field. Reminds me that I might do the same....taking notice of what seemed to flourish and replanting what feels true. Sometimes seeds take a bit of extra time and care in order to be bountiful; need to remember that as well.

sending peace.

Did you hear it this morning at sunrise? That soft whisper that is Autumn's song drifted alongside summer's rainfall and began to show herself in the quietest of ways. A hint of gold upon a leaf, a lone goose making her way elsewhere, a dimmer morning and earlier twilight....say it isn't so! We have a wish to bask in August sun awhile longer and desire to stand surfside still melting summer feet into warm sand. No worries...while August is sunflower yellow and crayon green ; September comes in upon a silken carpet of muted golds and singed sienna that soothes and softens.

sending peace.

Misty, sultry August mornings are among my favorite..today I was out early to check on the progress of drying my first garlic crop laid out on the screen porch. First thought..smells just like a NY pizza parlor! Deep inhale. All spring and summer I waited impatient for the brown stalks to tip- toe upward signaling harvest ready bulbs. Buried and tucked away under layered straw, tiny crescent shoots slept thru frosty nights and hibernated beneath many layered quilts of snow. I'll save a few purple blush bulbs to plant come November. I became distracted, however, by several bees intent on the opening blooms of a Rose of Sharon bush. Bumble bees drunk and gilded with dusty pollen, wings and bodies drenched in yellow- white dust. Working in the moment as if in rapture, not about to waste one grain for the hive, they remained until all was complete.

sending peace.

3 copper bowls

Years ago, while traveling to San Antonio, I visited the shop of a coppersmith who was schooled and trained by her father...generations of ancestors calloused hands meandered through her hands now. Her work had weight and memory and astounding elegance. There is a visceral response to certain types of metal artistry that starts in the belly and heart. I instantly knew I needed these three perfectly imperfect bowls in my home. The felt both humble and exquisite.

So, I unwrapped them, placed them upon tabletops and tried hanging them on painted walls and positioning them upon windowsills. Not quite right. Fill them with colored stones or seashells? Displayed and propped upright. Nope. Still felt empty...

I finally stacked them and left them be.

I found them again this week and realized what might be their purpose here...lining them up I filled one bowl with wishes of comfort and peace for those who have endured great loss; a place to hold teardrops till they evaporate over time. The second I filled with scraps and scribbles of dreams and blessings. Tiny notes chicken-scratched with what I hope the future and the present will hold. The third was left empty, perhaps the place for unexpected wonder to land and settle into. Space for not-yet-dreamed dreams and moments of Grace...I look for it to overflow.

sending peace, connie

Things I learned from harry potter

After many months I am called back to my blog so bear with me as I ease into the stream of consciousness that is my cluttered and often busy mind...

Here are just a few lessons I notice last week in the company of a "young wizard" at a local theater:

Control is not power

Your family is ALWAYS with you

Tiny elves can be braver than giants

Having a wand doesn't make you a wizard

There's a story in every teardrop

Girls kick ass

Light always fills the darkness

sending peace, connie

The sky and the waves were both the color of mussel shells...pashmina fog and salted raindrops cover the maine coastline as morning finds its way. Beachcombers wrap hands round coffee cups and measure their footsteps. It was a morning for warm doughnuts and destination-be-damned drives and for slowing down to watch birds dance on the seawall; to watch fisherman casting lines, zen like and aimless, with ballerina grace. Beach roses and sea trumpet bloom windswept. Worth waking up for....

sending peace.

Good morning!

After much work and collaboration with my brilliant web designer, Ally Piper of Brighteyes Creative, I am pleased to be introducing my website. It feels a bit like my first art exhibit; offering one's work is a bit daunting and creates a sense of vulnerability. Just exhale and trust, right?

I am hopeful that it will become a place of resource and shared experiences for those who visit me there.

Lots of stuff in my head to share...(way too much for one blogpost!)

June yoga has begun and our classes continue to be filled with wise and willing students. This month we begin out sun salutation series and it has already brought insight and perspective to our class. I fall in love with yoga again each time we "make it work" and challenge ourselves.

I'll be attending the NH Women's Leadership Summit on june 11. It's theme is "Giving Voice to Vision" which encourages the collective power of community. Maybe I'll see you there?

Just returned from a weekend in NYC and had the chance to visit the NY Photography Museum for the first time. Nice space. Exhibitions, all three, were varied and contemplative. The Civil Rights series was breathtaking, inspiring and brilliant. Commands us to step outside of our own story and witness. Worth viewing more than once, I'm certain. My response to other two exhibitions was quite different...the subjects of both series seemed disrespected and exploited and had what appeared to be no voice in their image. I was left with outrage and sadness after viewing...perhaps that was the mission of both photographers.

Summer books...I have just finished South of Broad, Deliverance Dane and two of the Steig Larson series. All quite different and all good reads.

Next art show is in progress and we are looking to early september to show new images. Details as they unfold.

Last thought....the morning walk past the pond round the corner is mostly quiet but for an occasional red-winged blackbird or early morning turtle. Today, amidst the wisps of fog that remained we had a chance to watch six newborn duckings trail their mother as she made her way through the water weeds and reeds. Their yellow downy tufts made them comically endearing as they followed her soundless instruction.

sending peace.

after the storm

Sap buckets appeared on Perkins Road this morning...mere days after the wrath of february's windstorm battered trees and patience. The storm made war zones of backyard swingsets and felled mighty pines during the howling night.

Bent and dented, the buckets collect drops of springtime hope. Clear sap that will turn amber and sugary awaits. Snow melt hastens and crocuses dare to blink from frozen flowerbeds. Last gasp of winter? Maple trees offering to sweeten our season..counting out the in- between where winter relinquishes its hold and spring begins, drip by drip and drop by drop.

sending peace.

I am constantly enamored by the rituals of "beginnings and endings" celebrated in cultures around the world; Chinese New Year celebrations that send glowing lanterns upward, a multitude of kites flown skyward in India and the discovery of tiny charms tucked inside Mardi Gras cakes sugared violet, gold and green.

New yoga classes begin in march and I look forward to the possibility of offering breathwork/yoga to oncology patients this spring. Daffodils and downward dog pose? Sounds like a good way to harken springtime.

One of the patients who we have worked with shared with me her tools for staying positive and strong while on her cancer journey. She relaxes into a visual of herself canoeing on a pristine lake in northern NH. She controls the speed and direction of her canoe and moves forward gently, peacefully and with purpose as the calm fills her. Quiet stillness envelopes her and she can hear her own breath and heartbeat.

I will have the opportunity to conference with the Fox Chase Cancer Center's planning board next week in an effort to develop their Women's Cancer Center's Resource project as it relates to integrative and complementary therapies. Patients and their families there will be able to access many avenues of care to promote wellness and ease the cancer journey. Now that's a new beginning worth celebrating!! Someone lend me a kite.

sending peace.

And she left amidst birdsong...the last few days in hospice house my client was lullabyed by the songbirds who "sang her home". Early on, during our Reiki sessions we talked of how she found comfort in having the birdfeeder deck built lovingly by her husband nearby her bed. She was extraordinarily present in her journey; her spirit in perfect alignment with each step.

Cardinals, woodpeckers with bright red feathers, bossy bluejays and tiny sparrows all lined up daily to show her how it feels to let go and fly. She watched, really watched and listened to their wise song.

And fly she did...gifting those who knew her with smiling eyes, with wisdom, with her agenda for a brilliant life and finally with her heartlight. I have deep gratitude for knowing her, for allowing me to witness and walk this journey with her and mostly for offering me a chance to hold the space as she unfurled her wings.

Reiki in hospice offers a space and a place for graceful transformation at the end of life. It allows for that honest internal dialogue to be heard in the gentlest way.

She and I, we chose to say "till we meet again" instead of goodbye.

I wait with an open heart.

sending peace.

copyright constance price/compass rose healing arts

White birch has become my favorite tree, especially in winter. A family of three trees stand together at the edge of the wood and nod as I walk by. Fog at the base of their trunks after the recent rainstorm swirls and settles with an evening exhale. Bark shreds and peels back in the wind creating horizontal patterns and uneven surface, exposing grey braille underneath, winter white fabric and at dusk, a faint pink hue; new skin under wrinkled layers. These birch are the local home for our resident golden hawk who chases and scatters blue jay and sparrow with the whoosh of a wing. On occasion, it provides a perch for the silver white owl whose stewardship is ever present. Branches shift and drop as bitter winds howl, bending 'neath the weight of heavy midnight snow and then rebounding in the noon sunshine.

Strong. Flexible. Both yielding and unyielding. Dancing with the rhythm of the season.

sending peace.

january thaw

A trinity of events came together seamlessly yesterday as the day unfolded...the Wolf Moon moving toward fullness, a powerful solar eclipse that transformed the sun and moon for several moments and, here in NH, the warm and wistful arrival of the january thaw. As I drove by the river, I could see it coming in; the water a lighter shade of blue-grey and the river energized without the icy remnants that pull at its shoreline. People seemed to smile more easily, drop their shoulders and breathe in the warmer air. Neighborhoods teemed with walkers and their dogs, foregoing hibernation and wool mittens to draw in the sun. It was a day to be present, really present, with no looking back at last week's frigid wind or forward to the next storms' snowplow song. It was a day to just "be" in the hopeful feeling of mid winter sunshine and warmth. At close of day the sky filled with scarlet pink...the last wink of sunlight washed in rose petal silk and lavender clouds.

sending peace.

The wind has felt like glass shards with the weight of yesterdays' cold; hurling insults at trees as it snaps and shatters in sound and feel, stealing breath and body heat like a thief. Backyard ponds beckon brave skaters; blades shave and scrape ice that feels solid and thick underfoot.

Fireplaces stay lit and oil burners rattle and cough round the clock.

Even the winter birds have stayed hidden with heads tucked under wings, forgoing feeders. No seeds or suet can lure them for more than a quick moment.

And so they wait...and watch a december moon hang heavy looking like a rice paper cut-out that just might tear in the angry wind.

New yoga session begins next week as does the introduction this month of a guided meditation program at Derry Oncology. It is another way to create a place for transformation for patients there and I look forward to seeing how it takes shape.

May this new year find you warm and well, surrounded by family and filled with contentment.

sending peace.

amaryllis

Greek legend tells of how the amaryllis flower came to be...the Oracle of Delphi gifted his wisdom to an innocent goddess in pursuit of her true love. She was to arrive at his doorstep for thirty nights dressed in all white and gently extract a tiny drop of blood from her beloved. On the last evening (perhaps the night of winter solstice) she arrived in brilliant red, transformed by her love for him. The wisdom of this bloom symbolizes persistence and patience and of course, the beauty of profound love.

Each year, at the onset of winter, I begin my staggered planting of amaryllis bulbs in an attempt to have them bloom in sequence. How orderly and so very organized, right? I like to have one blooming on my sister's birthday as a celebration of her spirit. Still, year after year they make their way through the dark brown soil in their own time, on Nature's schedule not mine.

Some bulbs are anxious and sprout immediately and others, late bloomers to be sure, only begin to rise up green after many days or even weeks. Waiting patiently for just enough sunshine and water, they remain unhurried. Some contain one enormous blossom; big and bold and impossible to ignore...they trumpet their own arrival. Others hold several blossoms, blooming back to back and petal to petal. Occasionally, certain bulbs seem content with their own greenery; no striped pink or scarlet blooms at all; just a tall emerald stem with a silent bud flanked by leaves.

May this holiday season bring you much joy and contentment. These last few days of december find me encouraged by the quiet quilt of new snow and early darkness that prevails...the time for taking stock of last years events will soon make way for more sunlight...

sending peace