Once Upon a Child's Heart

So much joy comes for me with Spring!  Just the sheer knowledge that I made it through the dark and gloomy Oregon winter is enough to send my heart soaring.  But Spring's gifts do not stop there, Easter, a steady unfurling of flower blossoms, off and on sunshine with fresh pourings of rain, and the endless opportunities to work in my yard.  I feel so alive! This week I'm working on my garden.  Today I started a Three Sister's Planting.  This is an Native American tradition of mindfully planting corn, beans, and squash.  Before I started planting I did a Google search to get more information on how and why this is done.  What I found on it was so interesting I wanted to pass it on here. At first, I thought this page was too "Thanksgivingy" to post in Spring.  Then I realized the only reason the Pilgrims and Natives were able to have a feast in the fall was because they planted in the Spring.  Their planting technique was unique to No...

Ch. 7: The Nasties By Kristen S. Sandoz 2013 Some time ago I began to tell you about Justly's quest to find a new place to sleep for himself and his new pup.  They had been outcast from the Royal City on account of the pups imperfect eye color.  The pup had one flame orange eye and one ice blue eye and this was entirely unacceptable for a hound of the King.  Justly had saved the pup from an untimely death on account of this imperfection.  As a result Justly had to leave the city and his warm comfortable bed under the Baker's oven.  Last time Justly had just fallen asleep under an ancient walnut tree to a lullaby from a lovely voice and finally drifting of into a splendid dreaming about his mother.  Now, on with our story. The voice that sang Justly to sleep belonged to our beloved Pearl and in the morning Justly heard Pearl’s voice again, along with a robust and craggy alto, and knew instantly that he was in the presenc...

The Egg By Kristen S. Sandoz 2013   The other day my five-year-old son had a friend over and they spent a lot of time with our hens.   Later that day when I went to check on the ladies I found two eggs smashed against the fence and evidence of a cover up.   If you have ever raised your own chickens you know how precious eggs are.   I was not happy about this and handled the whole thing very poorly.   That night I was really disturbed by my reaction and it brought to mind an experience I had as a five year old.   It was small, black, exquisitely hand painted, and edged with gold gilding.   It was lovely and delicate much like a teacup with gold trim.   You know the kind that even as an adult you’re afraid to touch its dainty handle with your comparatively large and clumsy fingers.   Only a teacup doesn’t quite compare with the fragility of nature.   In my hand I was holding an egg.   It was a gift to my mother f...