Snowy Wind

So this morning I stood in the snowy wind doing my prayers. Not my home,instead far, far away in the North country of Michigan. There is so much moving around us these days since the election. So much fear and uncertainty, so much change. It does not matter who you voted for in the election, because everyone had a role to play in the great unfolding that is happening. I know some have lost their way in the daily struggle called life. For many of us it is harder and harder to survive. But I felt it in my prayers this morning that something much bigger is taking place in this world.

There are two things that I notice right now. There are people who are coming together and reconnecting with who they are and then there are those who are disconnecting with everything around them. The polarity of the two groups could not be more different.

Many of my friends have gone to Standing Rock to be with the People of many tribes form around the world. Every one that I know said they did not want to leave. The hardships were like those they had never experienced, but the joy of being in harmony for one purpose, working together, touched their hearts like nothing has ever affected them. The closeness with Nature and Mother Earth, the Elders who know so many truths. It touched something in them deeply. A remembrance of who they are. Some have gone home and decided to sell everything they own and return there to live in balance and prayer. They prefer that reality. My heart has called to me many times to go, but the answer in my prayers is no. For me I have to stay where I am and support how I can from here. We pray at the waters around us, we hold sacred space, and we speak of what is happening up north. The water protectors are more than just Natives coming together to stop an oil pipeline. It is more than stopping the black snake. It is about coming back into balance and becoming–birthing–the people of one heart. The people who know how to connect in prayer, who know how to connect with their Mother. Who understand that there is something so much more satisfying than watching the latest movie on their big screen TV. They feel the balance while they are there, the brother/sisterhood and do not want to leave. I feel it too. I feel it from afar and many of my friends are feeling it too. We are coming together. We are learning old ways of doing things, not because we like to work harder, but because it connects us to who we really are. Anyone can start a fire with a match or lighter, but the first time you start a fire with a stick or a flint it is much more empowering. You no longer need someone else to give you fire. When you grow your own food with ancient seeds, you no longer fear the store running out or prices going up past what you can afford. You are growing your food. It is there–Mother is helping you.

We have lost so much of who we really are. I do not believe that our purpose on this Earth is to have “Things”. In the end your fancy car and big house mean nothing. They are screams in the darkness that you think says you are important. But you really are just as important as the homeless person who has nothing. There really is no difference.

So for the New Year I would ask you a question. What is really important to you? Your phone? Your family? A walk in the woods or on the prairie? What makes you really smile in your heart? The conversation with a stranger that you know–an exchange of “we are on the same page”. Or are you happy to close your eyes and turn on your phone or electronic devise, getting sucked into the depths of nothing. Don’t get me wrong–tech has its place. But do you control it or does it control you? Maybe, put it down and go for a walk outside. Delight in the trees and flowers and animals that live on the same planet but in a totally different world. And even in the dead of a cold Winter’s morning, go walk in the Snowy Wind.



Living in tornado alley a good part of my life—in Texas, Oklahoma and now Kansas—there is a phenomena that occurs. When there is a threat of a tornado, everyone wants to run out side to see it. The smart ones, people who have lived through them before, know better and run for the basement or whatever cover they have. But others want to witness the power and destruction of something that comes from the clouds. There has not been a tornado here at our farm—that is not what I am writing  about  today. No today I am writing abut a different kind of violent storm.


Right now, in our world there is a violent storm taking place. One of hate, fear, and great destruction. If we look at the violence that has occurred in shootings in the US and now the horrible attack with a truck in Nice France, we see we are in the midst of a terrible storm of humanity. I often wonder why people hate each other so much, why they judge so much. It amazes me the strength of the hatred coming from people and the reaction to fear. I have watched for a long time now as our society as a whole world wide has spiraled out of control.


Along time ago we stopped watching tv in my family. Now we are not totally removed but we still watch movies. But the violence and disrespect for each other we see on TV is now called entertainment. There are some people who enjoy watching other people getting killed, raped and hacked to pieces. These are not some remote deviants, no there are millions of them around the world. They let their children watch as well. It has become our level of entertainment. No more Mary Poppins, or Singing in the Rain, no—too boring for this crowd. Terror, greed, crime, violence, it all sells big time. And don’t forget the sex. Now, I am not a prude, but I do believe that what we focus on manifests around us. If our focus is of this more negative nature, then that is what starts to appear in our society. Children see it and think that is how we are to act in this world. They are very easy to influence. And so what we have called entertainment for the last couple of decades, has now become our reality. The violence we thought was fun to watch, is now showing up in our neighbor hoods, towns and cities. And we are appalled! How could this be happening in our town??? Well, it is what you focused on all these years. But the reality is not so entertaining. We can’t blame it all on the tv industry, or the movies, but really it is a big part of our culture—those two things– in our country. Have you ever watched a really violent movie and noticed how you felt afterward? Really tapped in and felt what it does to your body? Are you calm or are you uneasy? Now watch a really sweet movie—one about love, or the goodness of humanity. How does that make you feel afterwards? You feel love. Emotions of joy.  I personally have a very hard time watching violent movies. I am too sensitive for that—but I love watching movies that inspire me, and express the love in the world. It is what I choose to focus on and manifest in my life.


So if you can take a moment and look at what you watch, what influences your children, and step back and ask—are we creating the world we now live in with our negative actions? What am I doing to change it in my home—or is it business as usual.  What feelings and things do you support in your life?      Are there things that you dislike, a certain company or industry, or shows or games, and yet you still buy into them—literally and emotionally? Detach from it. Plant a garden, plant hope. Start teaching those around you what love, joy and peace are instead of supporting the energy of the violence. It makes no sense to watch the news and cry at the destruction of lives in front of you, and call it entertainment later with your favorite actors/actresses. You are supporting the same energy if you are watching a violent movie as is being played out in our world today. Energies of good and evil don’t really care if it is called entertainment or not. They do not care if it is just people acting. The energy is real. So if you are tired of the destruction in our lives that we are now facing, it is time for you to stand up and do something about it. It is time to walk away from supporting that energy of evil. The entertainment industry makes movies that sell—if you walk away from one type and want another type, they will move with you if enough people do as well. Speak out with your wallet. Refuse to be apart of the violence that is manifesting in our world right now.



Wobbly Spring!

This year has been the year of imbalance in the garden. Nothing is coming up when it should and then everything is coming up at once! It is the earliest I have ever seen some of these plants up and blooming. It feels like May, but it is April, and some things should not even be up and going until almost June! But here we go! Another year full of unknowns in the plant and weather world.

As an avid bee keeper and an advocate for pollinator habitat, this would seem good—early forage for the bees who so need it! Yeah, sure—but what about later in the summer when things should be blooming but are done and long gone. Something as simple as when a flower blooms can effect all the wildlife around it! Nothing is that simple. We live in a very complicated, intensely woven together world, and when one strand miss steps or breaks, the whole web of life is compromised.  So many people do not notice, do not care and will not care. But those of us who listen, watch and care, see things happening that shouldn’t be. We see our world out of control, wobbly and crazy and wonder why no one notices. If our seasons change much more you will see whole sets of plants and trees decide this is not what they like—and die. The stress of trying to figure out what season it is and what should be done now will get to be too much. Look at our food—the wheat around us just headed up over night with a good rain, but the plants are almost not there! I wonder if the crop will be worth anything this year.

I sit and I listen, I watch and I pray, that something will help to bring us back into balance. In more ways than one.  Pay  attention—see what is happening—don’t become one of the ‘head in the sand’ people who ignore the world around them!

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It is the time of year when we burn here in Kansas. I hear that the smoke travels all the way up to Chicago, causing more smog for them. For the months of March and April the air is almost always smoke filled around here. It burns your throat and wrecks havoc with your sinuses, but it is what they do here. Nothing will probably change it. As I coughed and felt ucky with the smoke so thick in the air I thought of people in other parts of the world that breath air worse than that almost every day. City people with millions of people sharing the same dirty air. When I think of that I am thankful that I only have to endure it for two months of the year. How blessed we are to usually have good clean air.

This year has been challenging with the burn patterns. The wind has been fierce—way stronger than normal and changing directions often. We had at least one fire in Southern Kansas that was the largest on record in the state—over 500,000 acres and the fire started in Oklahoma. I’m not even sure that fire is out yet and it has been going since before Easter. A huge mess for the ranchers down there, but in true Kansas fashion semis of round hay bales from an extra good hay year last year were donated to the ranchers. Bags of Milk replacer for calves as udders on mammas were burned and the babies were unable to nurse. That is if they could even find their herds as fences burned and cattle ran. We have had several fires around us that were started by unknown origins. The wind racing them across pastures faster than the fireman can drive to get ahead of them. We use volunteer firefighters in this part of the country. What wonderful men and women! So today the fire was set intentionally across from my farm to burn a prairie conservation area. They do it every 3 or 4 years. They had the field prepped more than a month ago—waiting for the winds to stop enough to light it. Fourteen miles an hour is a good burn wind, anything above that is a disaster waiting to happen. They were very good and burned on a still morning, but it would not burn fast. By 12 noon it was still crawling along. Finally it took and the whole field—at least 160 acres, burned in minutes. But by then the wind had picked up and soon by 1:30pm a fire had broken out in the east hedge row. They fought it with water tanks and tractors, moving debris so that it could not burn. It is now 7:30pm and the wind is even stronger and they are still there fighting the fringe fires with chain saws and water. There is a field to the east that is dry grass and it would go fast and far if it got lit. At 8:30pm the sun is almost down and they are still working! They had to cut down a dozen or so trees that are over 50 years old to stop the burning. How sad to see them go.

Fire is not something to joke about or laugh at, even on the prairie. Just grass does not mean it is easier to control than a forest fire. It can move fast and today the flames were well over house high in seconds. And with gusts in the 30-50 mile an hour range, like they had in the last month, it is almost impossible to get ahead of. So thankful for all those volunteers who have worked so hard this past two months. They are surely exhausted! But for me my fears are over as the fire across the street is over. No more worrying that they might not be so good at their job and the fire would take my property. When you have 26 goats in the barn and most of them babies, they are not easy to move in a hurry. A sigh of relief for us at least, and prayers still going out to those who are still in danger or lost everything this Spring in the fires that rage on the Prairie.

Spiraling Corn

When  my husband came home the other day, he met me in the garden and looked at what I was doing. “You always have to be different don’t you?” was his comment made with a grin. Yes, I always have to be different. I went to plant corn, the earliest I have ever put it in the ground, a whole month earlier in fact. But as I prepped the garden and thought of where I would grow this corn, my idea of square blocks went out the window as a voice said to plant it in a spiral, a mound in the center for the squash. The three sisters was the plan from the beginning.

I have three kinds of corn to grow this year and I can feel the excitement that there is  no corn planted on the acreage around me. This is my corn year. The seeds were given to me at our corn gathering and honestly I had no idea how many seeds I had received of each variety. So here I was being told to plant in spirals. So I made a huge circle. No measuring, no calculating how much of a spiral I would need or if I would have enough seed. Just going with the flow here. So I made my circle, found the middle and made a good sized mound for some pumpkins to grow out from and started my spiral. The circle was roughly 13 feet across—good number I thought. As I started the spiral it just felt right, and easy. I liked it. Much better than a square or straight rows! Nothing in nature is really square you know, and nothing grows in rows unless we plant it that way. So it felt good as I added some soil concoction that adds all the good bacterium and fungi for growing in. It felt really good. The spiral started in the south and just happened to end in the North. No plans, just the way it happened. So starting in the middle I laid the seeds in the small trench, one by one, prayed over and thanked. Grateful for such a beautiful corn. The colors splashing out on the dark soil, reds, orange, white, yellow, blue. Beautiful. The variety is called Painted Mountain and is not really rare. You can get it in seed catalogs. Short season—70-90 days to dry corn. I want to grind it into flour. I can almost taste it as I lay the seeds in the ground with prayer.  In the end I had the exact amount of seeds for the spiral I had made. Two left over that I tucked into the bigger spaces. I smiled to myself. When you listen to what the corn wants, it all works out. Just right. And so starting on the outside and working in reverse, I put the corn to bed, Thanking the Mother for sheltering this seed. It felt so good. Some water sprinkled above and the hopes of corn to grind into flour come fall.

Before I had gone to the garden, I had been asked to do Ceremony, which is a common enough thing in my Native belief system. In the middle of my medicine garden there are some crystals that are very special to me. They sit on a stump. But at the corn gathering, six special rocks had come to me from my friend Greg. Three were from my Great Grandfather’s old ranch, which this friend now lives on, actually in the very house my Great grandpa built—long crazy story that I’ll save for another time. These three rocks are so special to me. It is from a place that two different sides of the family had a connection to. They are big too, about the size of a cantaloupe. The other three are also special to me because they come from a place where one of my beloved Grandmothers has her seed Temple, where old varieties of seeds are being saved, cherished and kept going. All from the west in the sight of Mountains. The places that stir my heart. But also at this corn gathering some very sacred corn came into my hands. It had been kept by a tribe that did not want it shared with anyone outside of their tribe. Common enough these days. It was theirs and no one else could have it. But when it came into my hands I immediately felt that it had wanted to be free, because no man owns corn. Corn is a gift of our Mother and it belongs to her. I believe she set it free.

So here are six rocks which I had yet to decide where to place and a beautiful corn and they told me to make a ring with the rocks around my stump with the crystals, fill in some dirt and good stuff and plant the corn in ceremony inside the ring of stones. Everything fell into place months after the rocks and corn had come to me. The flow of Creator. But here I must tell you a story that was given to me in a vision long ago, before I can tell you what the ceremony was.

This vision is about the first corn coming to the people, and like all visions it can be argued if it is accurate. All I can say is it was very vivid and to this day I see it in my mind, played over and over again with the same clarity.

The people of Earth were starving. There was great hunger above ground and Mother was concerned that they would all die. So she sent from deep in the Earth a little person, a female, with a bowl of corn to feed them. From deep in the Earth, the little person made her way up to the surface, stepping out of a cave into the sunlight for the first time. She was, even in this very important mission, stunned by the beauty of the Above Ground. She went to the people and fed them the corn, the bowl in her small hands never emptying. Always more. When the people were full and rejuvenated to health, she taught them what they must do for Mother. They were to take all of the corn left in the bowl, and in ceremony,  place it in the Mother’s breast, under the soil, in gratitude and love. Just as you would feed a friend or a relative food from your house. So now they were feeding the Mother who had fed them. Gratitude. The Little person did not feel like leaving yet, so she stayed with those who lived Above Ground. The seasons passed and then in Spring, someone noticed that where the ceremony had taken place, something was coming up out of the ground. Corn. It grew tall and produced more food to feed the people. Mother had gifted them again and fed them. So the ceremony was repeated, a giving back of all the corn they did not eat to the Mother out of love and gratitude. Feeding her.

Soon the little person grew blind, for she was not used to the sun, but still she stayed with them for the rest of her life until one day she died. Some time after that, the people grew scared. Every year the corn would grow from the place that the ceremony had occurred, and every year they would eat and then the rest would go to the Mother. But fear is powerful. What if Mother grew angry with them? What if she decided not to feed them anymore? They would starve. So they decided to save some corn back in case. They still did the ceremony, but instead of giving all that was left to Mother, they hid some and planted it in the ground themselves. The corn did not grow back the next year in the Ceremony place. But they had saved some and planted it. It grew, but yet it did not fill their bellies as well, and things sometimes went wrong like no rain or bugs that came to eat the plants. So they grew more scared and tried to make a better corn that would feed them in a better way, out living  the droughts and bugs. They did this all out of fear. The Ceremony was eventually stopped as no one could remember why it was done in the first place. They were in control of their corn now, and they had forgotten that it was a gift from the Mother. The Sacred Hoop of life was broken.

So with this vision in mind, I was told to give this corn back to the Mother. The tribe who refused to share it was in fear. It was theirs and no one else would have it but them. Fear. Control. So as I was guided, the corn was placed in the Mother’s breast again—7 seeds. They were given to her in gratitude for the corn that she originally gave us, with no expectations of if it would grow. It was a gift to her and gifts should never hold expectations for something in return.  The corn is Hers. It was never ours in the first place. That is just our Ego/Mind fooling us.

So think as you plant your garden—could you put the seeds in the ground with no expectations of growth or food?  Could you gift them to Her and walk away ? The fear of lack is so ingrained in our minds. Feel what it would be like to live in total faith that you were taken care of, that nothing had to be controlled or manipulated. That something would always be there for you to eat. Be mindful when you plant this year. Try to let go of the fear that has controlled us for thousands of years and remember, no one owns the corn. It belongs to Mother and she will decide where it ends up.

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There are so many people today that want to live on a farm and raise their food and own livestock. We meet many of these eager people who want to know what we have learned. There are many things we can teach them, but there are many things we cannot.

Probably the hardest thing to teach is commitment to your livestock. Once you have them you can’t just leave for weeks on end—someone has to take care of them. And we can never really teach about loosing your beloved animals. It will happen, there is no other reality, and it will hurt. I have heard stories of crusty old farmers who have to go behind the barn and cry after they have to put an animal down. It should be difficult to do. If it becomes too easy for you then you are missing the connection to your livestock. We cry when we loose an animal—we do name them! But even the chicken which I do not name is grieved when lost to the grips of death.

So this week I have lost a beloved Elder and three goats. Death has come to the farm. One goat was a first time mom that was due to have babies in a couple of weeks. She went off her feed and so we had to induce labor early. Pregnancy toxemia was the culprit, but later we discovered that her gut was twisted. It was pretty sure a fatal end either way. She tried her best and on Eater Sunday she gave birth to two little bucklings. We managed to keep the little guys alive until I could get them to the vet Monday morning. I learned a lot about how to care for preemies. For one they can not regulate their own body temperature. So we needed to warm them up a good bit at the vets and then I had to learn how to tube feed them. In nine years of caring for goats I have never had to tube feed! So home we went and the first little guy passed within an hour or two. And then the every hour feeding for the other one started. He just wasn’t responding well and last night at 11pm he passed as well. I cried a lot yesterday. These are beautiful little creatures and someone should grieve for them!

There are some farmers that say it is not worth the expense to call the vet, or if they can not survive on their own, they are not worth keeping. Only the hardy survive. I get that—and I look for sturdy, hearty stock in our sustainability plan for the farm. But, we confine livestock whether with fences or barns and we choose what to feed them. Even if you could keep them on pasture, we choose what the mix is that grows there. We choose their water source and breeding schedule too. We manipulate their lives and because of that I feel we must intervene on their behalf no matter what the cost.  They are not wild. They can not be wild as long as we fence them or stall them, so therefore we should care enough to intervene where hope is still possible.  It is never easy, and it shouldn’t be.

When we loose an animal we pray over it, just as if we had killed it for food. When an animal is dying and there is nothing I can do for it, I sit with them and stroke them, tell them how wonderful they were and how grateful we are that they were in our lives. I have seen animals call out to me if I try to leave the barn. They do not want to be alone. If you think for one minute that the animals in a barn don’t know what is going on then you are not paying attention. You are thinking they are beneath you.

On Easter evening when my doe Fiona was in agony delivering her babies, the mama goats in the stalls around her were calling out to her. I have even heard the bucks calling out to their does and the does answering back when they are in labor. So as I finally wrapped up the two little boys in a towel and knew mom could not take care of them so I had to take them to the house, my head doe Sunshine, in the stall next to us, put her head up over the divider and called to me. I knew she wanted to see the kids. I held them up to her and she nuzzled and kissed both of them and then she kissed me. Nothing could have kept me from crying at that point. So if someone tells you they are just dumb animals that are a price tag for your future benefit, tell them differently. They know more than we do. We just don’t understand them. S now my little doe Fiona and her two little boys are running in greener fields—may they be happy!

The Tree of Life

Today, my heart is saddened by the loss of a beloved elder–Unci Beatrice Long Visitor Holy Dance. She was a Lakota elder who believed that prayer was very powerful, and that the old ways of her people should be preserved. She dedicated her life to her people and even in her work would drive hundreds of miles to make sure someone had their medicine. She loved her people. But she loved everyone else too. She prayed for all her relations, the people, the sky, the water, the Sacred Black hills, Mother Earth–everything. She prayed for the next seven generations, that their world would be better, that they would be happy and healthy and have a clean world to live in. She prayed daily for everything and everyone–even you who did not know her. She was a woman of prayer.

When I look at the tree of life, I see it covered in leaves. Each leaf to me represents an Elder who holds the wisdom of balance for this Earth and our lives. The tree is sacred. The elders are sacred. We are sacred. We are the prayer that someone made seven generations back. We are a walking prayer. Someone who did not know us, prayed for us to find balance and happiness.

So on the night of the 18th, Unci Beatrice started her journey home. Her job done. And a leaf from the great tree of Life has just fallen to the forest floor–to return to the Mother that made it. Wado Unci for all you have given me on my journey, and may I be able to help carry that torch that leads us back to balance.

Farm Surprise


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At 3:30am this morning I heard the coyotes howling and carrying on right out front of our house. It woke both of us up and as I laid there trying to go back to sleep I wondered why they were so close this morning—what message did Coyote have for me? I often wonder why they howl every time a train goes by. Does it hurt their ears? Or are they just looking for an excuse to sing? I finally fell back to sleep thinking of all I had to do today.

Today is a day to plant and transplant and I was sorting out my schedule, writing a letter that I needed to get out to an Elder and hoping for things to go smoothly today. I went out to the barn were several does have been holding on to the last minute to deliver. And then I heard the little kid calling—not a child but a baby goat! My dear girl Phoebe who always gives me girls had one on the ground and wanted her breakfast! I gave her some feed, rushed with my chores and ran to the house to get towels and iodine and gloves.

When I came back it was clear that she was not done and I think this sweet little girl had only been on the ground for a short time as mom was still cleaning her through bites of grain. So we waited while she ate. I have had many people tell me a goat will not eat while in labor—obviously this one and several others I own do not listen to that sage advise! So after she was done eating, then cleaning the first one again, she finally got down to business and out popped another lovely girl! What a way to start off the kidding season! Two healthy little girls! The first one was the biggest, the second smaller. I think I will name the second one Amber for her lovely color! Still working on a name for the first one. She has a very outgoing personality! Amber is more laid back and quiet. Now we will see what else happens in my day—so far the schedule that I swore I would stick to has gone out the window! Such is a day on the farm with the plants, the bees, the birds and the goats! Only nine more does to go!

Making Medicine

Today is Medicine making day for me. A day filled with prayers and concentration on the plants that are  here to help us. This year for several of my salves I was able to include at least 50% of the herbs needed from my own farm. Next year I hope that to be 100%! There is a different feel to making medicine with plants you have lovingly cared for from seed to harvest. It is far more powerful than simply ordering from the internet and hoping it was raised in a good way.

I was taught by my cousin, who was taught by our Great Grandmother to always, when making medicine, stay in prayer. I pray in gratitude to the plants that have given their lives so that medicine can be made. I pray to Creator in thanks for allowing me to make this medicine and for having the knowledge and ability to do it. But most importantly I pray for all the people who will use it, who will need it to help them to heal. This is the kind of Medicine that can not be bought from a mass produced marketing scheme. It is small batches, made at certain times of the year, and made with prayer. I take this very seriously. That is my job. To take it very seriously. The one salve that was my Great Grandmother’s recipe, or one that she had, is very special to me as well as my cousin. We know in our hearts that it was no accident that she found the recipe buried among the cook books of my Great Grandmother. We honor her and her Black Welsh heritage. She had knowledge that was common back then but now has been forgotten. Every Mother and Grandmother knew how to heal their families as much as possible. There were no doctors just down the street. And on my Cherokee side of the family it was the same. A strong will to sustain life and survive what ever came their way.  Now there is judgment, and opinions of your Spiritual beliefs. It is so sad that we are so scared of something that is as much a part of our personal heritage as food is. It was a part of everyday knowledge, no matter what faith or religion guided their hearts. My Great Grandmother was Southern Baptist. So judge away!

I will continue to make medicine for family and friends no matter what they think of me. It is the job that Creator has put before me and he is not one to be argued with!  So, may someone close to you, who loves you, be making medicine for you to use.  And if not, make it your self or get it from someone who honors it for what it is. A gift. Wado

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Water is the most important thing that we have. It helps us live everyday and it cleanses and heals us. We bathe in it and we cook with it. When we don’t have water, we have famine, disease and death. Plants won’t grow with out water in our gardens.

We have been very dry here in Central Kansas this winter. No snow and very little rain. But today we heard the rain falling gently outside. It is a new Moon in Pieces  I believe. A water sign. And a good day to get some rain.  Right now it is raining, but that doesn’t stop the birds from flying. They love the water too. They’ve missed it. Some are taking baths right now. Fluffing their feathers and enjoy the healing affects of just being clean! They seem happy to see it.

I’m glad it is not a pounding rain—gentle is better after so long since the last one. So now all the plants that have come up early will at least have some water to carry them through whatever the Spring will bring! And the fire danger might just drop a bit—or better yet just go away!

I am of Cherokee decent and water is very sacred to us. For me personally it is important to start every morning by drinking my first glass of water for the day with a prayer of gratitude for water. When I bathe I thank the water as well, for the cleansing away of all things not needed. I consider even bathing as healing. I am grateful to have it in my life. Nothing feels better to me than a tall, cool glass of water after hard work. It refreshes me! So maybe the next time you drink some water, bathe or wash your hands, you should thank Creator and the water for it being in your life too, and stop to realize that just turning on that faucet is a blessing as big as life.

I would ask that everyone pray for the people of Flint, MI who are suffering so horribly in their water crisis. We trust when we shouldn’t always trust, and now a whole generation of children and adults will be damaged for life because their water was not clean. We are spoiled in America. We think that the water will always be here and be safe to drink. Not so. And this is not the first time this has happened, nor is it the only thing happening right now. Let us hope and pray that it will never happen again. Stand up for your water. It is your life.  Wado

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