Greetings, Lovers of the Green,
I was just out on our land early this morning to listen and connect and I could smell the beauty of wild roses so potent. I am inspired to offer you this article I wrote for the Women of Wisdom Newsletter in 2004.
Visit our website www.crowsdaughter.com for our upcoming apprenticeships, classes and dark of the moon lodge this summer. Our Wild Flower Body Tonic and Wild Rose Tincture are available now...our Rosabunda Lotion and Wild, Wild Rose Balm will be available by end of July, now soaking and releasing their potent medicine into organic olive oil
Green Blessings,
Julie
It is early June and I am making a daylong trek to a beloved spot on the Olympic Peninsula. My intention is to gather wild rose blossoms, to create healing oil, honey and tincture...wild medicine...I am going to a place where there are acres and acres of wild roses. Around the end of May, they begin to bloom and are ripe for picking. I drive into the park, gather my cloth bag and venture onto a trail along a bluff, wild roses growing thick at the edge of the world. I begin to pick the wild rose buds and the open blossoms with pale yellow stamens. (Once the stamens have turned brown, their precious essential oil is spent.)
I pick and I pick, communing with bees and occasionally noticing the salt water far below and the graceful giant kelp fluttering in the waves. I walk along on this gathering spree, indulgently poking my nose into the open wild rose flowers. After about an hour or so of this it is quite clear to me that I am intoxicated with rose. I am relaxed and happy and my thoughts are filled with dreams of love and beauty. The wild roses appear to speak a truth to me of what is possible within us and among us. I listen and obey their call to keep picking. I find a little patch closer to the entrance of the park where I finish my task. I have to literally pull myself away from this spot and stop picking. I really do have enough for my concoctions. The wild roses delight in my reluctance to leave and beckon me on to continue savoring their offerings. I speak to them in the language of connection with the unseen worlds. I will return to you in the fall to gather your fruit, the ripe wild rose hips.
It is early October now as I venture to gather their ripe wild fruit. I am wondering what this adventure will bring me after such an amazing summer encounter with the intoxicating medicine of this native plant. I am excited to see the red, ripe berries all around me as I enter the park. I start again near the bluff and begin to pick the perfect fruit. After a while of picking, I begin to notice that there are not just one kind of wild rose hip here but many. Before I am done, I have identified at least six species of rose. I am entranced this time with the deep medicine of this plant... love and beauty, yes, again come to mind but in this season I also sense a strong pull toward Earth. The wild rose blossoms express to me a manifestation of heart, while these ripe, red berries speak of womb medicine, the deep dark medicine of female power. I give thanks for this wisdom and the expansive gifts of this place on earth.
May it be in Beauty!
Visit our website www.crowsdaughter.com for our upcoming apprenticeships, classes and dark of the moon lodge this summer. Our Wild Flower Body Tonic and Wild Rose Tincture are available now...our Rosabunda Lotion and Wild, Wild Rose Balm will be available by end of July, now soaking and releasing their potent medicine into organic olive oil
Green Blessings,
Julie
It is early June and I am making a daylong trek to a beloved spot on the Olympic Peninsula. My intention is to gather wild rose blossoms, to create healing oil, honey and tincture...wild medicine...I am going to a place where there are acres and acres of wild roses. Around the end of May, they begin to bloom and are ripe for picking. I drive into the park, gather my cloth bag and venture onto a trail along a bluff, wild roses growing thick at the edge of the world. I begin to pick the wild rose buds and the open blossoms with pale yellow stamens. (Once the stamens have turned brown, their precious essential oil is spent.)
I pick and I pick, communing with bees and occasionally noticing the salt water far below and the graceful giant kelp fluttering in the waves. I walk along on this gathering spree, indulgently poking my nose into the open wild rose flowers. After about an hour or so of this it is quite clear to me that I am intoxicated with rose. I am relaxed and happy and my thoughts are filled with dreams of love and beauty. The wild roses appear to speak a truth to me of what is possible within us and among us. I listen and obey their call to keep picking. I find a little patch closer to the entrance of the park where I finish my task. I have to literally pull myself away from this spot and stop picking. I really do have enough for my concoctions. The wild roses delight in my reluctance to leave and beckon me on to continue savoring their offerings. I speak to them in the language of connection with the unseen worlds. I will return to you in the fall to gather your fruit, the ripe wild rose hips.
It is early October now as I venture to gather their ripe wild fruit. I am wondering what this adventure will bring me after such an amazing summer encounter with the intoxicating medicine of this native plant. I am excited to see the red, ripe berries all around me as I enter the park. I start again near the bluff and begin to pick the perfect fruit. After a while of picking, I begin to notice that there are not just one kind of wild rose hip here but many. Before I am done, I have identified at least six species of rose. I am entranced this time with the deep medicine of this plant... love and beauty, yes, again come to mind but in this season I also sense a strong pull toward Earth. The wild rose blossoms express to me a manifestation of heart, while these ripe, red berries speak of womb medicine, the deep dark medicine of female power. I give thanks for this wisdom and the expansive gifts of this place on earth.
May it be in Beauty!
No comments:
Post a Comment