Garden Harvest ~ Krispy Kale

Spring has arrived and avid gardeners are out and about, planning and planting for their Autumn harvest time. Around these parts in the mountains, homesteading practices are alive and well, and plant nurseries are not just selling plants, they have become specialists in all kinds of planting, growing, harvesting and perserving those precious yummy goods. It is not uncommon for those who do canning to be seen trotting around town with several of their own special recipes in canning jars for others to try... with great excitement. It is delightful to see the "old ways" surviving and thriving, with delicious freshly prepared veges, made with joy and love. And what's better... you can taste it. You can't get these delectable goodies in any grocery store! If the idea of an attempt at canning is just too much to think about, here is a quick and easy way to enjoy the fruits of one's gardening labors. Crispy Kale is super delicious and nutritious.* And if your kids are picky and don't like vegetables, this recipe will having them eating out of your hands in no time! Just be prepared for your efforts to be gobbled up and disappear before you can even turn the oven off. In my garden, we have a long tradition of wild deer who have cut a permanent pathway through the forest. My Great Auntie Irene used to hand feed the deer watermelon rinds, and although I have not gotten to this place yet with the deer, I have remained mindful of the fact that the deer have made this area their home long before us humans arrived in the mid-1800s. Blocking off the deer pathway was not an option for many reasons, but especially because I respect their roaming area, and more so, love to see them come near. This however, presented a problem when it came to planting vegetables, as the deer love them probably more than we humans do. But I went for it anyway and learned alot along the way. A simple chicken wire fence was an easy solution to keeping my kale safe for human snacking. Kale is a quick growing vegetable and comes in several varieties. I chose to plant a variety for a mixed production. I put in a few six-packs of different varieties and then sprinkled mixed seeds in the soil between the starts. This way I would have a staggered production that will last through the spring and summer months with a continual harvest in rotation. It is only early May, but I have already had my first harvest of a bowl full of frilly green and purple deliciousness. What Joy! I happen to have a very picky vegetable eater to feed, so I figured that making crispy kale chips was the fastest, easiest way to prepare these leafy super nutritious gems, all the more appealing because they were the fruits of my own labors. This quick recipe is as follows: This recipe is so fast and easy it can be done in a matter of minutes. After rinsing the freshly picked kale with fresh water, I tossed it into a waffle weave dish towel (paper towels if necessary) to absorb most of the water, fluffing it lightly. Back into a large bowl, lightly drizzle a good extra virgin olive oil over the leaves and begin to "massage"! That's right, massage the kale.... it likes this. This massaging action gives the kale an even coating of the olive oil and also activates and stimulates the kale's cellular structure.** After the kale has been coated thoroughly with the olive oil, pop it into the refrigerator for a quick chill. This will keep the kale crisp until cook time. However, too long in the cold, and the kale will begin to wilt. Heat oven to 325 degrees and place a sheet of parchment paper over a baking sheet. The parchment paper will help absorb any extra olive oil and keep the kale crisp without getting soggy. Place the prepared kale on the baking sheet and spread out evenly. Place in pre-heated oven. Every 5 minutes or so, toss the kale on the sheet so it will crisp up evenly. Before the last "toss"... sprinkle lightly with some sea salt and put back in oven until all the kale is evenly crispy. That's it! Good luck getting it from the oven to the table and expecting it to remain for any amount of minutes. To be honest, if no one is around, you'll have a hard time keeping your own hands off of its yummy deliciousness long enough for anyone else to get some. Bon Appetite! *Kale is very high and rich in beta carotene, vitamins K and C and calcium. Kale contains vital chemicals that have potent anti-cancer properties, inhibiting cancer cell growth, DNA structural repair boosting ability within cell tissue, and the lowering of cholesterol while decreasing dietary fat absorption. **The notion of eating "raw" vegetables is very popular nowadays, and in the case of certain vegetables, this is appropriate. However, with more fibrous vegetables, like the cabbage family, of which kale belongs, and root vegetables, it is impossible for the human body to absorb the nutrition until the cellular structure is broken down a bit by heat. The idea that raw vegetables are best for ultimate nutritional value is simply incorrect and conversely is just a waste if not prepared correctly for proper digestion. Read more about Kale as a super-food at Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kale

Mass Mentality ~ The disconnection of our ancestral families

Way back in the olden days, the golden days where there was more harmony among villages, tribes... we supported one another in our immediate and then ancestral lives. The Native Americans live by the ideal of "Seven Generations" ... living today, acting through today, as if you were building the future generations with what was being done in the present moment. They were!

This type of "forward thinking" was preservation in action, doing or not doing in the present moment with the constant mindfulness of the impact each and every action has.... the beauty and abundance of life on the Great Mother Earth. Not what every action can or will do, but more simply HAS, as proven down through the ancestral generations! Exactly like the proverbial drop into the pond, rings and rings rippling out until the energy of the intensity of the gravitational pull on the mass of that drop of water is dispelled, radiating out, far past our human ability to see. The power of now.... carpe diem, no time like the present...... In the early settlements of the "villages" of New York, San Francisco and scads of founding cities all across the United States, people of certain ethnicities tended to collect together, establishing neighborhoods, where even though they were all on the "new frontier" of a new land, a new country, a new life and a new start, they could feel a sense of security in the cohesive familiarity of those from the same "tribe", "the old country", the old neighborhood, village, back home. There was comfort in that familiarity as they all stood on the frontier of the unknown that loomed vastly before them in this new land. There was comfort in the reliability of the old man in the apartment next door who owned the butcher shop down on the corner where you bought your meats each day fresh as could be. There was comfort in that community and how even though it did not resemble tribal villages of old, they were the "new and improved" versions of the old ways, with the added caveat of the bright, fresh, newborn promise of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness in a free land attached. There was comfort in the fact that we were all in this together. Some would survive, some would not... but at the very least, they had the courage to give it a go, take a chance, and risk it all to venture out into that very unknown, to embrace the opportunity to really make something of oneself, and the self satisfaction that came along with it. That ingenuity, that courage, that faith and relentlessness in that very pursuit would not only challenge each and everyone to their limit, but would eventually reward them for their very courage of conviction, to venture out, but to stay connected to the tribe, home. To go exploring, but to not forget from where you have come, because where you have come from, is exactly what has shaped who you are now... those very experiences become our tools of life in the '"belt" that we wear to life's daily "battles". To have roots, and wings.... the two greatest things a parent, a tribe can give a child.... as we attempt to appease our own hearts as parents when the time comes to push the "little birdies" out of the nest. In a community, this is buffered by the knowledge and dependence upon the familiarity of the community's people to be around and about, eyes keeping watch over one another... someone always around to help if there is a need. These are the very things that keep us connected to our humanity, and ultimately the stewardship of Our Great Mother Earth. As the populations of success soared, we began the slow uphill climb into not only prosperity, but also mass mentality. We had to find ways of being able to address the masses in all ways... and as we did this very thing with the advent of the Industrial Revolution, we more rapidly than ever before, began the "de-humanization" of people, then animals, then plants, and then the very ground we walk upon by building cement cities that further disenfranchised us from the nourishment of the very Earth beneath our feet. Big Brother had arrived, long before 1984 and we did not see any of it as it slowly developed over three to four generations, long past when anyone could remember, because we had forgotten how to tell stories and keep the ancestral generations alive. American became the "melting pot" alright, far past the coined meaning of the mixing of many ethnicities and cultures all in one place at one time. Unfortunately, that "melting pot" also became the means by which the ethnicities have become diluted, "watered down" versions of the strength, courage and wisdom long built and worked into the various proud world cultures over many, many generations despite differences in race, creed or color. Venturing out became easier and faster with the invention of the automobile, airplanes and trains and we could go farther and faster away from our homes, our families and friends, and ourselves, than ever before to further the fracturing of our ancestral beginnings, the "stories that keep us belonging"... as little aboriginal "half-cast", creamy Nullah says in the recent film "Australia" . He is right. The ancestral traditions and the stories of the events surrounding those traditions kept secure an individual's sense of self and belonging somewhere, somehow, some time, to someone. And that is what makes us..... us. We each are made of the sum total of the ways and means of the past generations and what they did to preserve the future generations.... or not, like what has occurred in the past 100 years. To our grave detriment, ultimately pushing us to the very brink of extinction through the sightless, thoughtless perpetuation of the "pursuit of money" and the loss of the very meaning of life through belonging in that very pursuit. It becomes obvious very quickly that this way of being, degenerates the true harmonious quality of life when our focus shifts to the immediate verses the long term.... seven generations out.

We would do well to take example from indigenous tribes who have lived long throughout thousands of generations, evolving gently upward into a symbiotic existence with all other life surrounding them.... in harmony, simplicity and mindfulness of one another and others right to life at all times. As Wal-Marts spring up everywhere, and Starbucks races to become the biggest coffee conglomerate of all time, simultaneously addicting us to their particular brand of "speed"... we maintain the mass mentality... and we are consciously or unconsciously relegated to just a number in line waiting for that extra special "Doppio, Grande, Macchiato Freddo low-fat, mocha with a extra shot of espresso Latte". Mass mentality equals dehumanization! We are ALL in the middle of it, and still we do not see just how very much it is impacting and influencing us all in very negative, disconnecting, disenfranchising ways. Open your eyes.... Get another shot of coffee if that is what it will take!

A Simple Solution - Creating a French Drain

Many times Off-Grid locations are in amongst wilder countryside. Places where facilities like electric power, water systems, internet and phone systems are already unavailable, as people begin to seek refuge away from the chaotic cities and townships. In these more remote locations, it is often a reality that the terrain and weather play an important role in the possibility for a well working off-grid system.

In this instance, a simple "French drain" can become an easy, inexpensive and most effective way to channel water drainage from any source, in order to secure land, property and living areas where water and the damage it can create easily, is not only a possibility, but a reality. On our estate property, we had a most distressing situation occur. It was early December here in the Santa Cruz Redwood Mountain Forest of Central California. I had just finished putting up all the Christmas decorations, a bit early, in excited anticipation of my three children coming for the first Christmas as a family in our ancestral cabin since I had been a young child. There was a rain storm, and it poured down over 12 inches in little over two days. The over-abundance of water from the entire upper neighborhood came down and ended up draining into the front of the Great room of the house. I walked into the living room and found myself an inch deep in water, soaking the carpet and padding beneath. One could not imagine my initial surprise and then panic as the water still poured in through a crack in the old mortar between the hand-hewn railroad ties that the wall was made of. It was as if someone had poked a hose through the wall and it was just pouring into the room. Through a most valiant effort by several kind-hearted neighbors lending their most capable hands, we were able to diagnose the problem, stop the leak, and I began the most arduous task of taking up the wall-to-wall carpet and padding and trying to vacuum up as much of the water as possible. Other neighbors lent me fans and heaters and several ran for nearly a week straight in an effort to dry the room out, while it was still continuing to be stormy outside. It was truly a nightmare of epic proportions, although ended up finding a major problem that had apparently been leaking for some years and accounted for the musty smell in the room that could never be rid of. Fixing this did the job, and simply. Here goes..... We were fortunate, not only to have discovered a serious problem, but to have had a 12-14 inch deep trench already dug. A walkway decking had been built over the trench alongside the house. In our case it was simply a matter of making sure the water had someplace to go. We also already had an established drain that ran beneath the house foundation and down into the creek below. So the first thing was to make sure the trench had a grade to it that would use gravity to lead the water to the drain. Next we needed to make sure that the continuously eroding hillside above would not clog the waterway. Reused and salvaged four-inch plastic drain pipe with pre-drilled holes was laid in the trench.

Next a filter cloth was laid over the plastic pipe, the width of the trench, to keep debris out of the holes in the pipe. The trench was then filled up to the top with one inch rock, covering the plastic drain pipe and filter cloth.

We re-laid the walkway decking with confidence that any floodwater would effectively run-off through the French drain and the house was now no longer in danger of water damage. Total Cost: Under $80 and well worth the peace of mind. Sometimes, it can be this simple.

The Joy of Coming Home - The Old Becomes New Again

When I came "home" to Sleepy Hollow, my paternal family's old ancestrial homestead from the 1870s snuggled deep in the California Coastal Redwood Forest of the Santa Cruz Mountains, I had so completely lost touch with not only the family, but this home that was always our joyful summer playground all the year's of my childhood. When I thought back on the times spent there, it was always with great happiness and the sense that the "family" and our cabin in the woods had always been there and would of course always be. Then, reality set in....

So many years away from the old place.... all the while I agonized over the fact that we members of the immediate present day family had lost touch and had all gone off into the four directions to begin and nurture our own families with children who would walk the family heritage and legacy into the future. The problem was, we all were so busy with the raising of our children we rarely got down to the cabin and when we did, from pure time wear and neglect, there were always many big problems to immediately deal with, and one would spend the entirety of the short stay, cleaning up enormous messes. After many trips to the cabin to find it cold, dark, wet, dank, musty and nearly completely uninhabitable, the heartbreak for me was just too much. I was blessed with the opportunity at this particular junction in my life, as my children were now all grown and required me none, to move into the old Lady in the Sleepy Hollow and begin the long-term clean up of the "Black Hole" as I affectionately began to call it. The mystical aspects of the house are miraculous and amazing, however other stories for another time... What I began to find great remembering and joy in was the "coming home" aspect of the process of restoration. As the 30+ years had slipped away since the cabin had been blessed with semi-regular attention, many of the simple and symbolic antique items had been carried off, either by thieves, or various family members who had seen fit to "rescue" these little family treasures and take them home for safe keeping. Things also went out in all directions, some to never be seen again, but I was delighted with those simple items I was able to bring back home to the cabin. Strangely, those items were the ones I remembered the most as a child and held the most significance for me as I spent time with my sweet GrammyTeddy while she was alive. Grammy Teddy, my father's mother, was always at the cabin it seemed to my child's mind, for that is where I knew her in the summers only. She baked cookies, apple and blackberry pies (and tiny tarts for me) from the fruit we children picked from the enormous bushes that grew alongside the road. What a thrill I remember as I watched her every move while she baked, amazed at the idea that we could pick fresh berries and Grammy could do such magic, making tasty sweet warm goodness in a pie in just hours. Yum! My first late summer harvest of berries in 2012 provided enough for three pies as I put them together at the very table Grammy had with me watching back in the 60s. She had taught me well and upon completion of my first bake in the cabin, I raised my glass over my steaming blackberry pies and saluted..."These are for you Grammy!", I announced with a sense of gratitude and satisfaction that would be hard to describe. I had indeed come home. The old was new again. There was great joy in re-manifesting the traditions once again when for so long it had seemed no one cared that they had died here. I cared... very much. This family had been steeped in death for too long and I wanted nothing more than to bring life, thriving life, back again. I felt great delight as neighbors would come by and say "The cabin feels full of life", many having lived in the area for several decades and yet never seen thriving life in the cabin. This was a big deal. There are many other small things from the Tiger Lilies I replanted in the front yard, remembering my Mom when she had first planted them so many years back. The exotic beauty of the lilies was always a favorite of mine. Anyway, I took effort to put them back after nearly 40 years. Now I smile and remember my mother every time they sprout up and burst into bloom again. My mother is there... in the garden with me as I breathe in and thoroughly enjoy the blossoms. The old mantle clock is another piece. Dated to the late 1800s, it sat in an old china cabinet and never worked as far back as anyone could remember. Covered with dust and neglected for God only knows how many decades, I had secretly admired and was fascinated with the mysterious old piece. My father had rescued the clock in more recent times and I was able to bring it home to the cabin. A little tinkering and before I knew it, it was chiming on the hour and on the half so sweetly. Who knew when the last time the cabin had heard those pretty bells. I took great joy in bring this symbol of enduring time home again, and this time... to work after more than a half century. Such a simple pleasure. I now take "Joy"...as often as possible. My father's oldest sister was named "Joy". She had died in her early twenties and all the joy literally seemed to die in my father's family. It did not take much for me to realize that now I had moved into the ancestral home, Auntie Joy, along with all the other ancestors who were buried not too far down the road in Santa Cruz, were indeed here with me. I have always had the feeling they are all watching me... from the other side. The sense of this is palpable and visitors to the cabin have noted this as well. I just hope they are all pleased with how the restoration of family and home is coming along. I am, and every once in a while, I strongly get the sense that they are not only happy but helping out as well, as living life in the cabin is thick with synchronicity, co-incidence and mysterious knocks upon the walls. Just too eerie at times... but I've gotten used to the "crowd", as it had always been when it was alive. The cabin has gone through many incarnations, just since I have been in occupation over the past three years. It has been a long process of cleaning and clearing, replacing and replanting. It has been a sorting out of a most holistic type - physical, mental, emotional and especially spiritual of a long family history, mostly not so nice. What an amazing opportunity of grace for me, what an amazing task, a labor of love, a rescue complete. And, oh what a joy! Joy has truly returned. For good this time, I hope and remain ever vigilant and mindful. It truly is, a karmic turning of times and for the first time, my own children are excited about the place and it's ancestral heritage value. The legacy will continue and I can eventually rest in peace assured, with the rest of the "spiritual bunch" that all the hard hand-hewn work back in the day of horses and pack irons of timbering these woods, was not in vain, despite their mischievous egos of the time, but again, those are stories for another time. Blessed Be the Old Gal in the Sleepy Hollow! May She endure for ages to come... with a little help, from the "other side"~ God willing if the creek don't rise!

The Fashioning Garden

Webster's Definition: fashion: n. a making 1. the make or form of anything. 2. act or process of making: hence, craftsmanship. It's winter now and I am missing my flower garden. I go out everyday and take a little walk through the yard, checking to make sure that all my little darlings planted over the last two years are doing ok in the frost and cold. I hate the cold and struggle to keep some warmth moving through me as I dream of springtime to come.

Spring is always my favorite time of year, maybe because it follows the most bleak and barren time of coldness. I always look forward to the beginning shoots of life that pop out as if to say, "our lives are starting anew", and I envision what they will blossom into in the yard. Always so much a surprise as I have a propensity to just scatter seeds randomly in certain areas of the garden. I have a wildflower area. I have an area for my bulb groups. And of course all depends on the amount of sun I am able to gather during the days of Spring and Summer. Living on the edge of the Redwood forest is challenging at best for a gardener. And so many of the plants I love, require sunlight that my yard simply will not permit with the grand elder trees looming high above, already a natural setting of spectacular beautiful evergreen. But I did say the edge of the forest, so the common road through the neighborhood affords me a small strip of sunshiny garden area to fill with dreams of flowering perennials. My partner Greg exclaimed one day "No plant in this town is safe!" as he watched me step carefully over a planted border to reap the drying seeds from a "Fried Egg Plant" that was thriving wildly behind the Water Department Building in town. It was true. However, I knew that no one cared about those seeds. They would fall to the ground, like so many already had, and be trampled by foot and automobile traffic, turn to dust and blow away. I figured I had a conscious responsibility to help that plant propagate... in my yard where they would be safe. I could not help but remember the children's book "Mrs. Rumphius", by Barbara Cooney, about a little old lady who upon taking her walks around town would gather lupine seeds and then spread them along the roadside of town until the entire town was exploding in beautiful shades of purple blossoms, in order that she "do something to make the world more beautiful". I loved the idea. I figure Mother Nature is the best, green thumbed "Lupine Lady" there could be. So I took careful instruction from my surroundings through observation. I watch the birds, eating the fallen seeds. I watch the weather and the wind, blowing the purple thistle "fairy" seeds as they parachute the breeze. I watch the seasons, the angle of the sun, the moon phases and I remember all the elders who gave me their wise guidance in my earlier years of gardening. And then there is the fact that I simply fuss too much over the tiny seedlings in excited anticipation of their growth. Over the years I discovered it was best for me to just leave most plants to their own devices as soon as possible for best results. So I've become a newbie seed saver, harvesting the tiny gems of local plants that I see do well in this neck of the woods, in hopes of eventually fulfilling my dream vision of a Springtime explosion of colorful blossoms. I've a neat and ordered array of little spice jars filled with my little harvest, and a starter tray of potential, a mini greenhouse sitting by my wood-burning stove in the kitchen. It's a little early still, but I figured that the outdoor plants have dropped their seeds, many to be eaten by the birds and squirrels, so I would follow nature's lead and make a safe sprouting zone for my little seedlings. In order to make my small corner of the world, a more beautiful place. With a little luck and not too much fuss, there will be many new additions of hardy flowering perennials to my front garden this new year, including a mini orchard with avocados, cherries, apricots, apples and pears. I'm going for ambrosia! Next, comes the beehive..... Lori Suzanne Holetz Designer, Creator, Visionary, Psychic, Mystic, Shamanic Healer Owner, One Tribe Spirit Publishing Author of The Garden, A collection of reflective musings inspired by visits to a small garden. http://emanjahs-onetribespirit.blogspot.com

A Sign of Love ~ Everlasting

As a child I spent my summer's with my mom, brothers and grandmother in our family's ancestral cabin in the Redwood forest that I now live in permanently. At my age of 9, it was the late sixties and our little sleepy hidden neighborhood hollow was filled with summer homes frequently rented out to transient "hippies". It was that time, and it was all about the Love. At the three-corner intersection of roads just up the hill a bit from the cabin, there was a signpost. This signpost looked like something out of The Wizard of Oz, as it had many home-made name signs nailed to it in a rather crooked and cock-eyed way, pointing the way to the various owner's homes up the various roads. One summer, the signpost had a new sign. It was a brightly colored, whimsically painted sign of Love. I thought in my young tender hippy frame of mind that it was nearly the coolest treasure I had ever come upon. Of no mind of future consequences, good or otherwise, and with a little egging on by my best girlfriend, I wrenched the sign off the post and proudly took it home for safekeeping. I knew for certain, that if I did not "rescue" the "sign of Love", someone else would, with a lot less caring to be sure. Little did I know at the time, that the sign was the name of the real people whose last name was "Love", who owned a home up the hill. Little did I know as well, that the Love family was off in Europe and the house was in transient rental that summer. And little did I know that the renters were a "commune", which only had bad connotations back in that day, in this area. However, somehow, upon discovery of these facts and more, the taking of the sign of Love just did not seem to be that bad of idea...quite justified in fact. It all just seemed to re-enforce in my child mind that I was indeed doing a good thing by rescuing the sign to ensure it's safekeeping. A few days later after my stealth move, my mother asked me to find my little brother, David, and bring him in for dinner. We all went out and hollered "David" over and over, walking up the road, continuing to holler his name. No answer. A short time later David, who was about five at the time, came wandering in and we asked where he had been. "Up the road with the naked people.", little David casually replied. "What do you mean "the naked people, David?" we asked with certain interest and curiosity. But dinner was ready and that was the end of that, for the moment. Of course, the next evening, David went MIA again, however this time, we were certain of the destination. This was our chance.... to see. My girlfriend and I hiked up the hill and found "the naked people in the house of Love"... and sure enough, we were greeted by a wrinkly, weathered old dude with long gray hair and beard, naked. Certainly, it was a shock, but David was right, and he was there... with the naked people. This provided great entertainment and loads of laughter and giggles on the walk home. Leave it to David we had always said. Memories of the summers of Love and the wooden sign have remained with me since. The cool Love sign has reigned over every home I have had since, and now after over 40 years, the old sign of Love is back in the neighborhood, kept safe and returned home. Old times and neighbors have moved on, the signpost is long gone in its entirety and a large magnificent purple crepe myrtle tree stands in its place. The commune and the Love family are long gone as well. No one else knows or remembers. But there is a "sign of Love" that remains in place. Little could I have known at the time, back in the day, that things in my life would come full circle. Little could I have known how the safekeeping of the sign of Love would become such a metaphor for the full circle return of so many things for this great grand old lady cabin in the woods, especially the love after it had been gone from the place for so very many years. Now, as the wooden whimsical "sign of Love" reigns supreme over the mantle of the great stone hearth in the heart of the great living room, times of true love have bloomed into fullness as family and friends frequent our loving home... laughing, dancing, singing and playing music together, filling the heart of my great, great grandmother's home.... with joyful LOVE ~ everlasting!

A year in the life, living on the edge...

A Year in the life, living on the edge of the Redwood Forest... breathing new life into a very old place. In a sleepy little hollow of the Redwood forest along the Central Californian Coast, my ancestors came, were given a land grant by the then President of the United States, Ullysses S. Grant, in 1876, and built the original cabin which remains as the cozy golden kitchen to this day. The last thirty or so years have not been kind to the 137 year old gal, and by Janurary of 2012, that year of "doom", she had all but slid down the hillside, a broken down pile of rotting wood and right into the Notley Creek, named after my great great grandmother, Francis. Oh she must be turning in her grave... which by and by the way, resides only a short drive down the highway at the entrance to Santa Cruz... they are all there... so I know they are all watching as well! Word is that cemetary is the most notoriously haunted around...word musta come down that the Notleys are still hanging around... in very cold, dark and wet black holes..... Word is that the evil no-good doer in the holiday community production this year was named "Notley Anygood"... No doubt sent here by their English Ancestors to pillage our sweet little old lady. Because, that is exactly what happened when I had found it on New Year's Day 2012. Oh, this year was going to get off with a glorious BANG! The dear cabin had become a cold, dark and wet hole in the family and the sincere lack of the ability of anyone in the family to give it the time and care is so desperately needed after 30 years of sitting alone and vacant, just to get it a tiny bit warm and dry again, had brought the whole grand history of our ancestral heritage into a complete disgrace. I arrived back at the cabin on that New Year's Day after two solid months of my inner intuition screaming at me through the busy "holly daze", "GO TO THE CABIN! SOMETHING IS WROING! GO TO THE CABIN!" as to not be ignored. So we took that glorious scenic drive along Skyline, on the crest of the Costal Redwood Forest, from Marin County to Santa Cruz on what appeared to be the most glorious, gorgeous day of crisp winter air and brilliant shining sunshine. Good thing because I was going to need it... breathe deep... and brace yourself! Fill'er up?! Upon entering the kitchen, through the hallway front window no less, because I knew I could get in through that window as I had been the one to nail it shut the last time I had been here. Breaking into my own cabin like a common thief, as the whole key situation was a mind-boggle in and of itself, I began to survey the damage... For the first time in my life, my mouth literally dropped open with astonishment and horror. There were very large chopping knives jammed into all the door and window jambs, all furnature had been dismantled, complete with the plugs cut off the lamp cords. The kitchen windows had been spray painted out in a thick and sickening shade of brown (that did not match the kitchen decor, of further insult!) and there was now installed in the bedroom, an alter to Hitler complete with its own set of very pointy knives of sorts. After I recovered from the body feeling that coursed through me upon discovery that I still can't describe, I drew in a deep breath of musty cold wet mold and mildew, I rolled up my sleeves and got right to work... this was an omen! And, this was going to be the clean-up of all clean-ups. I had been working as an "industrial cleaner" in Marin, mostly multi-million dollar homes, contractor clean-up with all the new, fancy surfaces and products. But here, there were not fancy surfaces, there were no surfaces near at all... they had pulled out the kitchen drawers and they were missing... presumed burned for firewood! This was gong to get way down and dirty! For, a long time to come. Good thing I had no idea what was coming down the road ~ I just wanted to cry as all the sweet childhood memories of summers spent here with Grammy and my cousins flooded back through the annals of time in my mind.. of this being the place where we always fell into the summer's love, in love, with who this year, the Summer of Love generation. I still have the hand-painted "Love" sign that I convenient "swooped" when I was 13 from the signpost up the road. It was a real house, owned by the "Loves" that turned into a naked hippy commune, it was their sign for their house, but I just wanted to make sure that Love stayed in the neighborhood, in my arms, in my possession. Besides it is such a cool sign that I had not "saved" it, someone else would have just pillaged and wrecked it anyway! Just like the cabin! This place had now become known as "the hood" and apparently, thieves abound and have for quite some time! So this was to become the year, 2012, where I brought back the Love to the cabin. After all, I live on an incoming earth vortex and everything I have needed... has shown up plus alot more... Trust that! So I did! More to come....