Rabbit Year

A life update at the time of my 48th solar return

My February birthday looks quite a bit different here in South Louisiana than it did when we lived in Alaska. Violets bloom like amethyst jewels under the fig tree outside our bedroom window, which is getting new leaves so fast, you can practically watch them growing. The landscape has been undergoing a sort of constant renovation project all winter, getting rejuvenated a little at a time with fresh green foliage. For some trees, that’s happened almost before the dead leaves have even finished falling away. The lines drawn between seasons down here on the bayou are blurry.

One of my favorite and unexpected birthday presents has been the gorgeous blooms from hundreds of azalea bushes I didn’t even know were lurking around in obscurity until they erupted in an electric, hot pink explosion all over town. It’s pretty epic- millions of blossoms, everywhere you look. Some, in softer white, seem to be dressing the Earth up in celebration of its happy marriage to springtime.

The weeds — many of which happen to be some of my favorite medicinal plants — have been showing up in droves, and really thriving lately. I’ve been making tinctures from some of them, like the fresh cleavers (Gallium aparine) that tangle with ferns at the edges of our yard. I also know this plant as bedstraw, and locals around here, who seem to regard its presence disdainfully, call it ‘catch grass.’ This herb has been calling my name, though, and no wonder. Its a powerful ally — a real mover and shaker when it comes to lymphatic function, and mine’s been feeling quite sluggish. It’s so nice when the medicine you need most just shows up and volunteers itself freely to you, right where you live. It’s like receiving a valentine from Nature herself.

I haven’t published anything on this platform in a while, as I’ve been working on a bigger project. I’m slowly chipping away at something that might become a book-length memoir. It’s quite the process, and I really have no idea what I’m doing. Emotionally, it’s exhausting, but I’m learning a lot about myself as I reach through time to watch reruns of life in my mind. It is a cathartic release to write these stories down, but getting back inside the potency of those moments to revisit the events through the lens of my younger, rough and tumble self can feel like a hard…

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