The La'au Po

The dry and Tree Tear-filled skies continue.

Light clouds streak the sky

The Wild Hucklerries and Wild Blueberries are coming plump. Delicious

Yesterday while I drove into town for errands I began to chant E HO MAI. I needed help breathing, and knew there were answers La'au (the Plants) might have for me. No sooner had I finished when I spotted a stand of the brilliant herb/weed.

Most of the Fireweed in our area is long past bloom, the stalks turned to fluff. But there they were! 

"Thank you!" I said. I was excited and so grateful. I didn't have my gathering tools: scissors, gloves, jar. I need to carry them with me in the car all the time now. But the spotting gave me encouragement. Yesterday was La'au Pau, the last of the moons good for gathering medicinal herbs, plants. It wouldn't be a lot to go into town, do the shopping and errands to the post office and then go home for my gathering tools. And as well, the time between errands and gathering la'au would allow me to adjust my attitude and tune my heart and ears to listening for the Fireweed's response.*

My intuition is guiding me in this gathering. No where could I find (on the Internet) any protocol or usages tuned to applying Fireweed as a medicine for the effects of Tall Trees raging in fire. But. Fireweed is the first on the scene after stands of forest have burned. Alight with their brilliance these tall stalks with purple flowers fill the land when the ash has settled. It is that natural sequence that feeds my gathering.

Heeding the practices of the Honorable Harvest:

1. I Introduced myself.

2. I stated my intention,

3. I asked for permission to gather Fireweed.

4. I listened for their answer.

5. I heard them answer.

6. I clarified which parts I should gather.

7. I clarified how many I could gather.

8. I said, "Thank you."

9. I gathered.

10. I said, "Thank you."

A small jar of Fireweed flowers and stalk are in the last of the Vodka I bought for making tinctures. The rest of the stalk is hanging under the eaves of our Au Hale. In 6 weeks I will have a tincture of Fireweed. 

While I was finishing up my shopping in town, before I stopped to gather Fireweed I bumped into a friend. She asked, "How are you?"

I told her, "I'm having a hard time breathing."

She said, "My eyes are burning."

I said looking into the sky, "It's the Tree Tears. The forests are burning." 

She said, "IS THAT what this is! I'm so sorry you're suffering."

I said, "It's nothing compared to what they're experiencing."

She said, "Thank you for the consciousness."

On a La'au moon it was good to connect with the grief that I feel. Not so much so I wallow in it, but, so I can remember to gather the practices left behind ... on the way to where we are now. Listen to what Robin Wall Kimmerer has to say (click to link) about this. The prophecy of the Seventh Fire.

Nana i ke kumu ... look to the source

Last night, at dusk, the rain dangled like diamonds, soaked the dragon

left puddles for the first time in two moons (two months)

Watering the potted Rose of Sharon, the blossoms burst 

Ripples in puddles, reflect what is above

This morning there are clouds and blue sky

This morning on the Prairie Front (South Whidbey Tilth) spider webs catch rain drops

I ask Pete to show me the two trees who have joined hands. I tell him "They know something." 

From the Prairie Front I intended to go straight home; the long ferry 'dump' (cars streaming off the ferry) changed my mind. I headed for the Maxwelton Watershed. Checking on the growth of St. Joan's Wort at this time, I was curious of her availability. Was she still growing since my harvesting shortly after Summer Solstice?
"YES, she said. I am still here."

Many of the flowers had turned from yellow to red, but a few still grow yellow. I was tempted to harvest today. Huna ... the flowers hide. Maybe not today. And, yes, not today because I have no scissors to cut her. 'I won't pull your hair to satisfy my need!" I tell her I'll be back if that's alright with her; with a scissors closer to Hoku the Full Moon which is Friday coming. 

The lei la'i is dried now, but beautiful in our car. Reminding me to braid TEK (Traditional Ecological Knowledge) with the Mundane (the everyday today which is like a wild bean crazy with going places)

My straw hat wears a special flat leaf of Sacred Cedar, a tiny bit from a very special Cedar growing not far from our vardo. She reminds me to remember all the things, people, places that are important.

In the field behind the fence where I have spotted St. Joan's Wort cows munch. What you can't see are the soaring Swallows gliding and diving. Maybe I am too close for their comfort. I don't stay long.

Just before I leave I look up and see the source ... Nana i ke kumu ... is there a promise of water, precious giver of life.

"We give thanks to all of the waters of the world for quenching our thirst, for providing strength and nurturing life for all beings. We know its power in many forms--waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans, snow and ice. We are grateful that the waters are still here and meeting their responsibility to the rest of Creation. Can we agree that water is important to our lives and bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to the Water? Now our minds are one."
- The Words Before All Else The Thanksgiving Address of the Onandaga language