Arts, Environment and the Child: Walking the Wheel of the Seasons

As I walked into the craft area, I was drawn to the straw bales where a very young man called out for me to join him all the way in the rafters. I did, climbing the straw bale staircase, almost losing my footing, but so happy to be sitting with the excited child.

Later, I joined the pumpkin carvers and selected a pumpkin to "lid" and "gut." A parent not in the class immediately began to line the ground beneath the pumpkin carvers with handfuls of straw. He smiled and said that he and his child had been to a festival with pumpkin carving the week before, so he knew the tricks of the 'trade.' I was appreciative of his help in making everything run smoothly.

As I left, I walked through the tomato greenhouses, the rich earthy smell reminding me of gardening with my Mom, and excitedly waiting for those tomatoes to quickly turn to a deep and succulent red.

Saturday October 8 th

After not being able to get in touch with Sonja, a few of us decided it would be great to take the risk and spend Saturday morning at Skokomish just sitting with the plants in the garden and getting acquainted/re-acquainted with the garden space.   On the way, Robin and I had a lot of great discussion, and right before we got there, she said that even though she was very excited, her heart felt a little heavy.   When we got there, we finally got in touch with Sonja: she was in the kitchen with my friend Ben and they were preparing for a private ceremony.  

I felt a little embarrassed at that point, like I had wrongly led the group there assuming it would be okay to go up there "unannounced."   The good thing about this trip is that a few members of the group were able to see the location of the garden, and also getting in touch with Sonja (and her home phone number) was a step in the right direction.

So for now at least, part of this project includes patiently waiting for direction and introduction from Sonja at this point in space and time, going with the flow of what the garden's identity will be from now on.   I realize that the garden changes every year, but this year this is especially true.

Until today, I hadn't been to the garden since the celebration of Uncle's life, and I just had to refocus and remember that it's a privilege to be there, maybe even more so now than before.   Even though I've done gardening and spent time there, I have not continually been a part of that community like I was during Gifts of the First People and during the spring quarter of the Sovereignty Program and then again this spring after uncle's passing; being there today really forced me to acknowledge that community-building is something that takes continuous effort.

I've been branching out into many different communities over the past few years and I've been really fortunate to meet a lot of other indigenous people and do some really incredible work.   I wish there was a less egotistical way for me to say "This is who I am, and this is what I've been involved in, and this is who I know."   I want to show and demonstrate my familiarity with the garden and some members of the Skokomish-Hoodsport communities, but I don't want to "lay claim" to anything or seem like I'm trying too hard to carve out a similar niche like I had before.  

I've spent time in the garden before, with people from two different classes over the past few years. I have felt so welcome and independent there, and I even brought my family to see it when they came to visit.   I would like to think that I could pick up where I left off in the garden, and perhaps I will feel as comfortable, independent and free as I did before in the garden, but right now, I almost feel like it's a new project again.   And in a way, it is:   I didn't work on projects with Sonja specifically, even though we have worked alongside each other and probably with the same people for these few years.  

It seems like this is how a lot of things in my life progress, and it seems even more pronounced in Indian country, especially in urban Indian communities: I see the same people at so many events/gatherings, but I don't ever actually meet a lot of people right away.   Usually, it happens when it's meant to happen, and usually, for me, it ends up being the kind of thing where either I say or someone else says to me, "Hey, I've seen you around a lot.   Who are you?"   It may be a more cumbersome way of getting to know people, and it may appear as "shyness," but the ways in which I make my connections are more genuine for me.

All I know is that going to the Skokomish Nation today made me realize how much I've been positively affected by so many people who I either got to know there or had a connection to Skokomish.   And I think I got to know more people from more Nations and tribes at Skokomish than I ever have anywhere else.   It has been such a meaningful and defining experience for me to be welcomed there by many different people lifting their hands to me.  

It is a strange and dreamlike challenge to re-approach it now with a different group of people.   It makes me miss the nights that we slept in the Smokehouse for the Sovereignty program and all that we dove into.   I feel like I could be a really strong resource for this current class by sharing information, lessons and teachings that were so generously gifted to me by several people, but I also know that there are things that I've experienced and learned that I'm going to be unable to share with people in this class (knowledge that's not mine to share), which makes me feel really alone and lonesome, instead of making me feel spiritually strong, which it usually does for the most part.  

I understand that the garden is a transforming project and I'm so happy to be out there again, so I will do my best to bring what I can in terms of memories and practical experience.   Maybe the sadness that I feel overwhelmed by right now is simply nostalgia for times that have passed.   I knew then that I would never be with that same group of people at that place ever again, and I enjoyed those moments to their fullest, but going to the property for only a few minutes today was a reminder that the past is in my heart, and will not be a direct physical experience again.  

I am not sure why I am choosing to focus on all the above right now, especially because I am truly looking forward to being a part of another chapter of the story of that land, and I am truly honored to be a part of it again.   I think I just need to make sure to myself that I am being honest with my emotions and approaches to this project, so that I can evolve and grow with the project, open to it as it is, while still acknowledging that there are many places in my heart that are already occupied with what has happened here.

Today I researched the Gifts of the First People Garden.   I have participated in the Garden before, so there are many aspects I am familiar with already, but most of my information is coated in a thick layer of emotion and memory.   There are so many associations that are in my heart that branch out from my association with the garden, so it was good to research "the facts" about the garden and its history, instead of solely relying on my memory.

I visited the Gifts of the First People website and revisited the Web Crossing information for the class.   I also directed my project team to these resources.

Home, DIS, CAB and Computer Lab

Even though one of our texts, Nature Journaling, uses Christopher Columbus as an example of how nature journaling has been used throughout history (p. 8), I have an inclination to view Columbus more holistically: he was an imperialist criminal traveling on credit, lost at sea, and when he came to unknown lands, he disregarded the hospitality and kindness of his hosts, beginning a campaign of torture, murder, rape and extremely brutal exploitation that left a legacy that is celebrated by some and resisted against by others.

The fact that Columbus Day is observed as a federal holiday on most U.S. calendars troubles me, but I am inspired by all the work that has already been done to transform "Columbus Day" into World Indigenous People's Day, Day of Indigenous Solidarity or Dia de La Raza.   In the spirit of reclaiming a history that is often silenced, several students and I collaborated to put together a local festival that celebrates the truth behind Columbus' contact: there were millions of indigenous people in the Americas before, during and long after Columbus did his damage, and we are still here today, still fighting similar battles to the ones our ancestors have continued to fight throughout the generations.  

What does it mean for the US to still honor Columbus?   Until Columbus Day is no longer observed, I believe that it will continue to undermine and threaten the work that we are all doing in terms of multi-cultural awareness and deconstruction of half-told histories.   If we are seeking unity, we must seek the truth in history, because the legacies of Columbus and his followers are not honorable.   To embrace these lies of heroism contradicts the level of mutual respect that we in the present day are so close to really achieving in meaningful ways.   We have the tools to uncover the truth, and to teach more accurate versions of the "Columbus story."  

The festival we organized is happening on Monday, October 10 th .   The event will begin with a parade and march from Woodruff Park on Harrison in Olympia to Sylvester Park in downtown, where we will celebrate indigenous sovereignty with the Aztec Dancers, lots of free food, music and speakers that include Larry Mosqueda, Alan Parker and Russ Redner.  

I have spent many hours organizing for this event, but hopefully I can include the hours spent making art for the festival as project hours.   On Tuesday, Sept. 27, I spent two hours with another student, making a huge banner to hang in the CAB at TESC.   At the top of the sign I painted "This is not cause for celebration," referring to the ships I painted directly below to resemble Columbus' ships.   One of the ships had "Oct. 10 th " written on it.   Underneath the ships, I wrote: "To celebrate Columbus Day is to celebrate genocide...to celebrate Indigenous People's day is to celebrate the survival of sovereignty."

On Monday, Oct. 3, I spent 5 hours putting together fliers for the event and printing them up, using Photoshop, the TESC Digital Imaging Studio and the incredible graphic art of Eric Drooker ( www.drooker.com ).   I secured Eric's blessing to use his artwork for this festival, so I went to Last Word books and borrowed a copy of Drooker's book so I could scan the sequence of images called "Manifest Destiny."    I made two versions of the flier, one with all twelve images of the very graphic visual descriptions of the past 513 years of American history.  

However, I realized that the images would be too striking for many people.   I wanted to make sure that the potential festival attendees would know that the event was family-friendly, so I made another flier with less graphic images, and included text on that flier, of which I made 100 copies.   The text reads; " Day of Solidarity with Indigenous People.   Monday, Oct 10.   Gather @ 4pm at Woodruff Park in Olympia, WA. March down to Sylvester Park together @ 4:30 with speakers at 5:30pm.

"Remember Columbus Day, the federally-recognized holiday that falls on the second Monday of October? Did they celebrate that in school when you were a kid? Now that you're older, you know the histories of colonization and resistance that mark recent American history (513 years).

"What does it mean for the U.S. to celebrate Columbus? Indigenous people have resisted the legacy of Columbus and still resist similar threats today. Together we can transform October 10th, 2005 in to a celebration of the self-governance and continued liberation of Indigenous People, exposing the legacy of Columbus' cruel inhumanity and embracing our histories and memories of resistance.

"In celebration of our common histories, we will march from Woodruff Park to Sylvester Park where we will celebrate Indigenous People's Day with our communities.

"Meet at Woodruff Park @4:00pm. Leave @ 4:30 heading east on Harrison Ave.Arrive at Sylvester Park for awesome speakers @ 5:30pm." (End of flier.)

One of themes of this event is "Teach children the truth."   And herein lies the most challenging part.   It is easy to teach children that in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue, but it is very difficult to address the truth of what happened when he landed.   Even young college students have trouble grasping the totality of what happened after 1492, and most of them have much emotional trouble understanding the truth, so how can we expect younger students to learn the truth, without really scarring them and teaching them more than is appropriate for their age?  When should we begin talking about the rape, the torture, the enslavement, the murder, the barbarism, the hunger for gold that led to a devastation of culture, and what do we teach in the meantime?

I think one of the answers lies in simple positive reinforcement of historical events.   My Mom, who is a 3 rd and 4th grade teacher in a public school district, has a sing-along CD, and one of the songs says something like, "In 14-hundred 92 Columbus sailed the ocean blue, it was a very brave thing to do, but someone was already there."   The song goes on to talk about who the Taino/Arawak were at the time and how hospitably they treated Columbus.   The song alludes to Columbus breaking the trust of these people, re-centering the focus of this story onto the people who "were already there."  

I think that is a good approach to initiate discussion among young people, even though it's not the whole truth.   My Mom has discussed with her kids what they think about the content of the song, and the results have been very positive.   The kids go from surprise to questioning "why?" and with just a little bit of "truth education" to stimulate them, they begin philosophizing on history and come out with what we call in the universities and colleges a "deconstructed perspective on history."   We don't have to go into the gory details; kids know intuitively that the "power structure" of Columbus' time disenfranchised the indigenous people (in fewer words), and they are mostly open to talking about it.

In the same vein, there is a new book called "1491," that focuses on what was here on turtle island before contact.   This seems like a very non-confrontational way of re-centering history, taking the power out of Columbus' legacy by looking at the rich complexity of what was happening in the Americas.   From there, the learner is capable of making his/her own conclusion.   We can't expect young people to form accurate perspectives on history if we don't provide them with the tools to learn outside of a pro-Western system of education.

This morning at 10:00am, I met with the director of the TESC Childcare Center, Mike Harris. We briefly discussed my interest in the Center, what my goals are and what it means to volunteer.

I will be placed in the Geoduck Room with the 4-5 year olds and their lead teacher, Donna Simon, who will be available next week to set up a regular time for me to participate. I hear she is an amazing environmental educator.

Since I am a temporary volunteer, they prefer I work with the older children: Mike says it is not good practice to have new faces come and go with the younger kids.

After the short interview, I was given a tour of the Center as Mike laid out the essential information. We passed by the sweet choas of children and their caretakers as I was shown the ropes. I am so excited to start working with these people. They are calm and gentle, yet happy and excited about life. The kids are so cute. I am really glad I decided to volunteer so close to "home."

Earlier this week, I got a background check and I will have to get a TB test before I start.

This afternoon, Robin, Elizabeth, Stacey (and her son Hunter) and I met up at Evergreen and headed towards the Gifts of the First People Garden. The ride up there was filled with great conversation as Hunter adjusted to being awake in the car. We arrived just as Sonja was pulling up to the property and we began our tour.

I was not very good at concealing my surprise at the overgrown state of the garden. Sonja smiled and I said that it's the same garden, it's just wilder, much like our mutual friend Ben, who came back with a big bushy beard and dreadlocks from studying herbalism in the desert recently. Sonja laughed at this comparison and began to tell stories, reminisce, and share histories that the plants inspired as we travelled through the garden. She guided us through the demonstration garden: the beds that align with the body systems, the center stump of ceremonial herbs, the trails, the ponds and the patches.

It was so good to talk with Sonja; her memories revealed the intense struggle she has gone through in the past several months, and I am honored that she felt comfortable enough to share with us all that she did. She misses Uncle terribly. She spoke of the other elders that passed right after him, and how sparse and important the remaining elders are now.

I remember Karyn and Sonora working very diligently on the farthest pond during the spring of 2004. That pond became the home of many wapato (Indian potatoes). Sonja was telling us that she will be having someone harvest the potatoes for the next ceremony; she carefully spoke of the importance of these potatoes. She knows Uncle wanted the elders to eat these potatoes, and she now knows that he is watching over and that she must see it through. She said that many of the elders haven't tasted wapato potatoes since they were children. What an amazing responsibility and honor to be involved in this garden!

Almost the whole time we were in the garden, there was a stream of lughter coming from 13-month-old Hunter. He was mostly laughing at the dogs that were hanging out that day as well (Stacey says: "Yeah, because you know, dogs are just so hilarious!"). Hunter is a treasure to have in the garden, and he makes me feel so at home out there, since Sonora was about the same age when she hung out with her Mom in the garden.

Looking into Sonja's beautifully intense eyes during our meeting gave me an overwhelming sense of peace, joy and knowing. What an amazing woman. As the 'tour' was ending, I said that I had to check on the Devil's Club, so we all walked the trail together. Sure enough, hidden in a stump was that one Devil's Club that is so personified in my mind. Along the trail, we found 4-5 more thick and winding Devil's Club stems.

Sonja's advice and instuctions for the garden were very simple: just cut everything back. Everything? Everything. We are invited to come out at our convenience. We don't have to call her first, but if we want to call her when we are out there, she will come and check on us if she has free time that day. As Sonja left, we did as well, since the mosquitos began to come out.

On Sunday morning, we woke up after a lovely day at Mount Rainier, refreshed and ready to begin getting our hands in the dirt in the Gifts of the First People Garden. I met Robin and Stacey (sans Hunter) at Evergreen and we headed up Highway 101 into the misty day.

As we arrived, we heard the bells and chants of the Shaker Church. Standing around the center stump, we dedicated ourselves to the space with a sense of intention and began to cut plants back.

I chose to work in the Nervous System Bed, starting with the Lemon Balm, Melissa officinalis, which was the first plant I monographed and the only plant I had harvested from the garden in the past. I trimmed her back to about six inches all around, cutting back the hard stalks from previous years. I placed the balm on the bench and moved on to the California Poppy, the Feverfew and the St. John's Wort, trimming the plants back and weeding.

I felt especially calm, happy to be working with plants that feed the Nervous System. I can often be headstrong and independent to such an extent that in the past, I never thought that I would need plants to help my nervous system--I was in control of my nerves, I didn't need help from plants for that--so it felt good and humbling to be working among the plants whose uses I had once fervently denied a place in my life.

Then I moved towards the Labrador Tea, the Thyme and the Mullein in the Respiratory Bed. I have a deep connection to many of these plants, since I have used many of them in the past few years to strengthen my lungs. I felt at home in the Respiratory Bed and I think I will start there next time.

Stacey cut back the wormwood and anenome among other things; she also cut back the herbs in the center stump, and I felt obligated to take the tobacco, instead of letting it just be composted. I processed it (see below), but I am not sure what to do with it, since it is a very important plant in general, and specifically that one at this time. I think I should give the dried herb to Sonja next time I see her.

The Wild Indigo won the award for being the most overgrown, which took Robin a long time to cut back. I am excited for her to experiment with it as a dye plant. Robin also cut back the Rue and some of the Echinacea.

As we left the garden, I felt grateful, overwhelmed, and relaxed at the same time. I am excited to go back and spend more time out there.

Well, Sonja said we should feel free to harvest and take home some of the plants that we tend to in the garden, and we definitely did just that. We each took different combinations of herbs. I took some of the lemon balm and the labrador tea that I cut back, and also took home some of the rue and echinacea that Robin harvested. I hung the anenome on a string, along with some of the lemon balm and the echinacea.

I cleaned the rest of the lemon balm and the rue and placed it on dehydrator trays. Then I cleaned and cut some of the Labrador Tea that I had trimmed back, and placed in on the trays. Finally, I cleaned the individual leaves of the tobacco plant that had been cut back, and gently laid them individually on the trays.

Over the course of the next few hours, I turned the plants, removing the ones that were dried and placing them in jars, and separating the ones that were not yet dry. They now sit in the dark caverns of my kitchen, and if anyone is interested in sharing some of this harvest, feel free to email me at egaeli23@evergreen.edu and I will bring some into class for you. (I have a little rue, lemon balm, labrador tea, anenome, echinacea seeds, and tobacco, though I will probably give that back to Sonja or at least put it back in the garden in one form or another.)

Today I met with Donna Simon, the woman whose class I will be volunteering with this quarter. She is an abundantly radiant and joyful human and I am excited work with her.

Before we headed into the break room to speak, I got a chance to meet several of the children, whose energy refreshed and inspired me in just five minutes. I saw Sonora, and talked with her a little bit, but I wasn't sure if she remembered me from the garden.

Donna and I discussed intentions, schedules and plans for the next month. I gave her my impressions of the class' intentions so far, and I showed her my nature journal. I will begin volunteering in the class this Thursday, and Donna welcomed me to this "other realm" of Evergreen.

I got a TB test today so that I can begin working at the Childare Center. In the waiting room, some women were discussing how great birth control pills are, especially the ones that allow you to have only 4 periods per year. Then their friend came in, talking about how he got busted after crashing his car and walking through the Evergreen woods. He didn't remember taking a breathalizer, but he did according to the cops, and had blown a .20 blood alcohol percentage. His friends thought this was kinda funny. He was glad the school wasn't going to tell his parents. This made me feel sick and really scared, since I frequently ride my bike to and from Evergreen at all times of day and early evening. How can people not discourage their friends from this type of behavior, but instead laugh about it, telling them it's no big deal?

Anyway, I got the TB test, but it took the medical assistants several times to find me the information I requested. I hadn't had a 'vaccine' for a long time, and I was wanting to know exactly what this test would be. It turns out that the TB test is a protein derived from the virus suspended in a solution that is injected just under the surface of the skin, but I had to ask three different people several times before I got that answer, which I thought was a little bit strange. Shouldn't people performing procedures know what it is that they are doing in case the patient asks? It was a little frustrating that the medical assistant initally answered my questions with "I'm pretty sure it's not a live virus..." then "I'm pretty sure it's a dead virus..." then, after asking the right person "no, it's only a synthetic protein derived from the virus that tests your body's reaction/recognition."

TESC Childcare Center

Today was my first day volunteering with the TESC Childcare Center. I arrived at 3:00pm, and the kids had just had their snacktime after their wakeup time. I entered the Geoduck room (3-5 year olds) just in time to witness Donna calling the dozen children to the center of the room as she laid out a mat. They gathered in a circle and I joined in the circle, as nonchalantly as a 5'7'' person could among the shorties.

"Who knows what tumbling is?" Donna asked. A few unsure responses followed until one girl, Rachel, stood up and said, "Donna, a long long time ago, I took a dance class, and we did tumbling in it, so I've done lots of tumbling before."

I too, have done much tumbling, so I felt very comfortable on this first day of volunteering. I began dance and gymnastics lessons when I was 4 or 5, and continued with both until I grew boobs and hips (about 10 years later). I felt like the world was conspiring to make me feel at home at this point. Of all the things the class could be doing, it just happened to be tumbling. I was thrilled.

The children took turns getting across the mat in whichever way they felt like. Some tumbled forward, some rolled. Before each turn, Donna would ask the child by name if they wanted a turn, and it was okay that some of them did not want a turn. Then Donna turned to me. "Liz, do you want a turn?" Of course I did. Then, easily and professionally, Donna introduced me. "Does everyone know Liz? She'll be joining us on Thursday afternoons for the next few weeks." I waved sheepishly and the kids said hi.

I took my shoes off and took my turn, doing a cartwheel across the mat. After I did this, many of the children who had rolled or tumbled on previous turns tried to mimic what I had done, putting their hands down and kicking a leg up, surprised that they didn't keep going. Many kept trying several times, then decided to either roll forward or sideways. Seeing these attempts, Donna said, "We're going to have to get the tumbling mat out more frequently so you kids get used to using your bodies in new ways."

Soon, it was time for outdoor activity/free time. All the children got their shoes on and headed out. Donna said that they could take the tumbling mat outside and that they could even put it on the hill. I began to fold one mat and before I even could pick it up, there were several little volunteers who carried it outside over their heads.

Outside, there were several other adults and groups of children, at a ratio of about 1:5. Some of the other children joined the mat group, so we continued the game of going across the mat. Some children lost interest quickly, while others were content to wait in line and take a turn. Some children learned that budging in line gets you a faster turn. It was interesting to see the more patient children talk to the offenders calmly at first, then when that failed, they asked me for intervention, and I told the budgers that the other children were being patient and waiting in line for their turn, and that they should follow that example. Some children also were taking turns before the child before them got across the mat, effectively running them over, so I reminded them to wait their turn and to be gentle with others.

I quickly learned all the names of the children and felt that I had gained their respect when they heard me addressing them by name. One little girl (Louisa) hugged me from behind and then grabbed and pulled my hand and I was surprised at how string this little stout gal was. She grinned, delighted in her power.

At one point, a child found a frisbee, which scared me as they threw it to me at close range. I told classroom assistant Jesse that I was always the kid that was afraid of the ball. He agreed that he had been 'that kid' too. Sure enough, tow frisbee tosses later, a little kid got whacked in the face at close range. The child began to howl and I consoled him and asked him if he wanted to be picked up. He said no, and within a minute, he stopped crying and forgot about the frisbee in the face. I turned and the girl who had thrown the frisbee was looking down at her fingers, playing nervously with a plant, and caught my gaze. "Oh Sophia," I said. "It's okay. There's no need to feel ashamed, it was just an accident; he's okay and we know it was just an accident. Those frisbees can be a hard toy to play with in such a small space." I think she was relieved to hear me say it. Jesse agreed with my frisbee assessment, "Once we had a bunch of frisbees outside, and it was terrible. Kids were getting smacked in the head left and right. We rarely play with frisbees anymore." We confiscated the frisbee.

At 4:30, some parents began to show up for their children, and I got to see two parents that I knew from classes, Sonora's Karyn and Jeremiah's Lina, both of whom were surprised to see me. Lina said that just last night she had reread a letter I had written her. The connections were incredible! I chatted a bit with almost every parent that came through and then escorted Rachel on a walk through the "woods."

Today, Jennifer, Robin and I went up to the Skokomish Nation's Gifts of the First People Garden. We left town at about 4:00 and drove through the sunny, crisp afternoon air; it was a beautiful day to be in the garden.

We got out of the van and walked to the garden, after waiting a few minutes for a 'guard dog' to be more comfortable with our presence. We thanked him as we walked past. Entering the garden, we circled around the main center stump and had a moment of silence, which was great for me: it took that whole moment to lift a heaviness out of my heart and when I opened my eyes, I felt freer and more grateful to be here.

I hummed a song that Chixapkaid and his Uncle had taught us and began to garden. I began clipping back the coltsfoot, but my attention was quickly diverted. I cut back the grand Elecampane leaves and started to cut back the comfrey, but it hurt my hands and I asked the other women questions about the comfrey: should I leave it for decoration? would they use some if I cut it? is it good for salves if it's dried and processed? would people in the class probably want some?

It seemed to get dark quickly. I began pulling up dandelions by the root from the pathways. Then I pulled up some California Poppy that had snuck into the culinary garden. I felt distracted by the plants, as if they all wanted a little trim and some attention before we left. The Coastal Mugwort was calling my name, so I cut her back and laid her on the bench. The huckleberries too were calling my name, so I kept sampling them. They taste so incredible, especially after seeing G.B.M.'s exhibit in the Longhouse. As it got dark, the huckleberries began to blend in with the darkening universe, disappearing into the night, even though I could still see the leaves. Crazy enchanted little things.

As night fell and the stars began to stand out against the deepening blue, we took the materials we couldn't use to the compost piles. Jennifer looked for her keys, then realized she had locked them in the van. Walking towards the little dipper, we left the garden and headed to her car, where we began to channel our inner car thieves, which was unsuccessful. We tried to unlock the door from the outside through a crack in the window using string, a bungee cord and scissors, but we quickly gave up. I fortunately had my cell phone, and Jennifer has AAA, so we hooked it up.

We talked and did Tai Chi in the Tribal Center parking lot, welcoming the night and the growing number of stars. At one point the rez cop circled the lot and we laughed at how funny we must have seemed. Within a very short time, the locksmith arrived and we welcomed him with smiles. He lives between Skokomish and Shelton, so it was quite fortunate for us. However, he said that Chevy Astros are one of the hardest vehicles for locksmiths to enter. Within 5 minutes or so, he was in and we were on our way home.

When I returned to my home, I washed the Coastal Mugwort and Rosemary that I had collected from the garden, then placed them on dehydrator racks. At the same time, I was drying nectarines and apples, so the house smelled so wonderful--the apples smelled like roses and the mugwort smelled like sage (rose and sage are great companion plants, so this smell was awesome on a lot of levels).

Today was my second afternoon with the children in the TESC CCC's Geoduck Room. The youngsters were excited today, and I was so jazzed to see them. We began with a guessing game of "Pumpkin, Pimpkin, where's your stem?" led by Donna. All the children sat in a circle with one, the pumpkin, in the center. While the pumpkin child in the middle closed his/her eyes, the rest of us all sang, "Pumpkin, Pumpkin, where's your stem? All the pumpkins are looking for them! Where's your stem, Pumpkin?" We would sneakily pass the little pumpkin stem to people around us, and when the song stopped, everyone would make a fist, hiding whatever was or was not in our hands. The child in the middle would get three guesses, then whoever had the stem would reveal it and be the next player!

Soon after the game was over, we put on our shoes and headed for the great outdoors. The first thing I did was stop and smell the lavender, and my enthusiam convinced a few children to come up and smell it too. We crushed it in our fingers and inhaled the relaxing scent. Then I began to accompany a few young ladies on a jog around the CCC lawn, with them yelling "Chase us!" A few times around the yard we ran, then I pretended to forget to chase them and would run off in the opposite way. They thought this was pretty funny, and then said "no, you're supposed to follow us when we run!"

They were soon distracted by some hula hoopers and I saw that there was some chalk in a bucket. I invited those around me to play with chalk on the cement. About 4 kids began to draw with me, and I began drawing a leaf; soon Jesse (a teacher's helper) came up to me and asked if I had been told about "drawing with kids." I said no, and he said that no one really told him at first either, but adults drawing often discourages kids from creating because they know that they can't match that level of skill. Aha! I thanked Jesse for the revelation and I began scribbling more abstractly and the other children created their own pictures joyfully. One little boy with blue chalk used his whole hand to shade his picture and he gleefully showed me his little blue palms.

Then Jesse introduced a few of us to the chickweed growing in the yard. We sampled it and then he showed us the test for chickweed: opposite thin lines of white hairs on the stem. We snacked on it and laughed and learned.

I ordered some peaches from the 4-year operated restaurant drive thru and thanked her for her service. I climbed in the treehouse and roleplayed a young girl's story with me as a pet unicorn.

Today I was so excited to hang out the kids. My life had been rather heavy in the preceeding week and I knew that the children's presence would put in a good place. As I entered the room, I noticed that Donna wasn't there, but Classroom helpers Patrick and Jesse were there, both feeling the burden of over-stressed and understaffed. Fortunately, this was an opportunity for me to step up with my energy. Jesse was hoping that I would come today and it was awesome to feel like a real asset in the classroom.

Usually when I get to the Geoduck room at three, the children have just finished up their nap and afternoon snack, but as I arrived today, there were a few children still zonked. Unlike the other Thursdays at 3pm, there was no indoor game before going outside for free time. I traced Sonora's hand with a red crayon upon her request and she cut it out with scissors. A few minutes before we headed outside, Jesse said to me, "You should really apply for a job here. Then you can get paid to do this. The kids really love you." To which a young girl chimed in "We love you, Liz!" Wow. How incredibly humbling to gain their trust and respect so quickly: I felt honored to be there and could just smile at the mutual appreciation I was feeling.

We headed outside into the rainy afternoon. Almost all the children got drenched and within 30 minutes, cold fingers and wet stockings conviced the adults to let the children back inside. We went into the Bunny Room next door and hung out and played with the children who were 2-3 as well as their teachers. I read a few stories (and sung one with Jesse) and played a "dinner game," and before I knew it, time had passed and it was time for me to head out.

Tonight I felt toxic inside and out. I felt draggy and worn out, energy sluggish, stagnant...what a perfect opportunity to prepare a vinegar tincture of burdock root! I had gone grocery shopping earlier in the day, and among the delicious foods I purchased was a long burdock root. I chopped it up finely and saturated it folk-style with apple cider vinegar.

It's a secret. I made tincture, but this one is personal. Don't worry, I'm not counting it for project hours anyway:)

My Dad came to visit for three days. Among the many fun things we did: watching the salmon. Here he is at McLane Creek. He is so good-natured. I love my Dad.

This was a great day at the Childcare Center. The main classroom teacher, Donna, was absent this week again, which I think is due to an illness in the family--I have a lot of newfound respect for people who are caretakers in their professional lives as well as their personal lives. It takes a lot of heart to do that and still be as energetic and radiant as she is.

Jesse and Patrick were in the Geoduck room when I arrived. I got my requisite hug from Jesse and several children. They were all finishing up their playtime and were getting ready to go outside. In the meantime, we had a dance party, reminding me of the wise words "If you can talk, you can sing. If you can walk, you can dance."

I rocked some girls in the rocking chair for a few minutes; I crossed paths with one of the girl's mom on campus before coming to the CCC, and she said that Sonora had been up since 5am and would probably be quite tired. Sonora didn't seems too tired, just a little winded and distracted in her always-thorough explanations of things: she was also proud that she was up "before the birds were up."

As we headed outside, I took the opportunity to break into a run with the majority of the kids. A few of them were already pleading "Chase us!" but I said "I just HAVE to stop and smell the rosemary." I did, and several kids touched it too; I explained that touching it lightly bruises it slightly and it releases the essential oils which smell so good. Lily said, "And if you touch it like this, the smell stays on your hands!" I was about to talk about rosemary and memory, but attention spans were moving quickly. "Chase us!"

We ran for a few steps, and then I said, "WAIT! I just HAVE to stop and smell the lavender!" We repeated the process of delicately touching and smelling. I said that this smell always relaxes me and makes me feel peaceful. I got a few nods as they inhaled the sweet perfume. Again, Lily said, "And if you touch it like this, the smell stays on your hands!"

We were about to run again, then we stopped to smell the thyme. After this, we ran into the forested trail area. A few girls were hanging out at the base of two trees that were growing at a 45-degree angle. They were making a pile of something, and they explained that it was their home. They were very engaged in their game and Sophia showed me a pile in her hand with a worm in it, seriously explaining her intentions about it.

As I moved on through the playground, I came across a cedar tree that was moving. I remarked on this, and then I found two boys underneath. Eventually I too would be under the small cedar, relaxing with 3 girls and one boy, chatting about ?

Another highlight of the day was finding a wolf spider on the fence at perfect child-eye-level. We talked about for a long time: I think there were at least 7-8 kids who were really interested in this spider.

Skokomish Nation

On Saturday, my friend came into town on the train. I went to visit her at another friend's house, and on Sunday, we agreed to hang out. She explained to me that she is not feeling well at all--emotionally, physically. She thinks it's her thyroid, but the Western medicinal tests show no anomalies. With the other problems she's having--chest pains--her anxieties and depressions are returning, and she's returning to states of anxiety that began as results of trauma. As I understand her explanations, it's a very physical-emotional-mental connection, and all three are aggravating each other to the point that she feels overwhelmed.

Fortunately, I could be something of an asset by explaining my own experiences with thyroid disease, which I did. I wanted to do something with her that would be nurturing, medicinal and supportive and even a distraction from her pains for a little while. I invited her to the Gifts of the First People Garden. It is a place of medicine in many ways, and I offered her the idea that just being there is medicine.

We drove up, and she spoke about her fears and pains. Fortunately, she had an appt. the next morning, so that was something to look forward to in terms of getting answers. As we entered the Garden, Delbert greeted us; she read the sign and I gently toured the garden with her, explaining the plants I knew, pointing to some of the live plants in the garden that she had been taking in tincture form to combat her illnesses. I took a picture of her taking some of her tinctures in the garden.

We walked the path and picked up some fallen black cottonwood buds, and admired the Devil's Club. I told her some of the stories and histories I knew about the Black Cottonwood and Devil's Club in the garden. I told her we could make a little of that black cottonwood bud oil tonight at my house--it's always good to make medicine together.

We exited the trail, and she sat down on the bench near the digestive bitters bed. She hadn't been properly digesting her food, which she spoke of several minutes later, and then I was excited about her intuitive placement of her body in the garden.

One of the reasons she returned to Olympia was because she wished to support her friend's birth (she is a doula), which happened about an hour before she got off the train. Unfortunately, she did not even feel well enough to support her friend. The other reason she came to Olympia is to get health care that she was comfortable with.

We talked some more, and then I felt an overwhelming urge to tend to the baby berry bed. I told my friend that I was doing it in honor of her friend's baby (and another baby had recently been born as well).

I got on my knees, and began to cut and break some of the raspberry branches and strawberry leaves. I remembered when my Dad mowed over the strawberry patch in our backyard when I was very young and how I cried and cried until my parents were able to convince me of the resilience of strawberries, and that such "pruning" actually encourages growth. I told my friend this story and laughed.

Out of the horsetail and raspberry branches appeared a few slightly withered daisies. I gave the flowers to my friend and replanted the roots at the very edge of the baby berry bed. As I kept cutting back the berries, I realized that a song of beloved uncle's kept coming out of my throat as I was cutting. I got such an intense pleasure from pruning the baby berry bed that I decided to quit and allow someone else the opportunity (or me later) to experience this powerful, magical bed!

My friend came over to my home and invited her friend. While they talked in my room, I made them a relaxing tea of chamomile, mugwort, red clover buds,

While my friend chilled out, I made a scrumtious dinner of yams, squash, zucchini and burdock, toast and roasted garlic. Among her many ailments at this point in time, she is having trouble digesting, so I made her a tea of fennel, mugwort and cinnamon.

Then I began to break off and squish the cottonwood buds. This time, which was my second time doing this, I tried to keep the sticky resin from getting all over my fingers, but it still happened: it's worth the price:) I covered the buds with olive oil in the little ceramic pan, covered it, and placed it on the stove. The whole area was quite warm from dinner and tea-making, so I did not turn on the heat at that point. In fact, I did not directly heat this oil at all until almost 24 hours later. The buds hadn't yet changed color at all, so after a day of soaking, I turned the heat on lower than low for just a little while.

Nov. 21

A little after noon, I went over to Heather's house to begin the day of the Devil's Club. I arrived and we spoke for awhile about intentions and updates and got to know each other a little better as she made some tea with oatstraw and nettles. She put the tea in a to-go pitcher and brought two little cups, and we were off.

I drove the truck down Delphi Road as we spoke thoughtfully about many aspects of health, class, our tendencies, our epiphanies, our strengths, the earth and our spirits; this woman is wonderfully articulate and has such a strong spirit of love and compassion. I am excited to share with her this point in life; this time of reconnection to her "earth," living in her physical body.

Our conversations were so joyfully enlightening. I gained so much from Heather, truly feeling connected to her, and feeling a deep understanding. She is very powerful, and I feel that she not only is great at sharing herself, but she also excels in bringing the best out of me. I truly felt both understood and communicative and I very much admire both Heather's qualities and her abilities to get me in a place that I felt very comfortable and nourished while sharing. Here are some of the ideas that were on our tongues (of course, there is no possible way for me to convey in this report the totality of the conversations, because it really did seem very simple and true, yet also like epiphany after epiphany):

The earth is in crisis, so in many ways, it makes sense for our bodies to be going haywire--if we look at ourselves from the perspective that we are always a "whole," then illnesses become sources of strength to reorient us with what we need to be more in tune with that whole self. Illnesses need to not be a source of shame; we didn't "do something wrong" to cause sickness, but instead, it is an opportunity for us to listen and reconnect and catalyze healing not just for that sickness, but for the other aspects that are/were connected to that manifested illness.

Heather and I first spoke at Mount Rainier, a short but incredibly powerful conversation. I remember the fresh alpine air, and the smile on Heather's face. This was my first impression of her, so I have since then had an "alpine scent" of renewing freshness associated with her. I have been studying Devil's Club on and off for over 2 years, so this quarter, I took the opportunity to get to know this plant as thoroughly as possible for class. Knowing this, Marja recommended that Heather and I work together to harvest and process Devil's Club.

I turned on Nootska Road, and we headed up the base of the mountain. This road was the place where former classmate (2003) Karen Wilk had harvested Devil's Club. Her place of harvest was up the creek about half a mile, and I have to thank her for pointing us in the general vicinity.

Recently, I had gone farther up (8 miles) this same old logging road alone, looking for...well, I wasn't specifically looking for anything, but I had hoped to find a trailhead, and I had hoped that maybe that trail would cross paths with some Devil's Club for me to observe. That day, was bathing in the mountain sunlight and I decided I had gone far enough, so I turned around. About halfway down the mountain, as I came around a steep curve, suddenly the truck stopped (I did it, but man, did I ever feel 'stopped'). I got out of the truck, still in disbelief of what I thought I saw. All along the hillside, there were huge strong stems of Devil's Club. Everywhere I looked, there were more, hundred of them, some of the widths as large as half of my wrist, some the size of my thumb, all of them a consistent height, between 5-10 feet tall. There were hardly any other plants around them. They truly dominated the hillside in a very healthy way. Turning around, I saw the hillside across the valley, which was full of clearcut areas.

I decided that this was not the place to take Heather, not really because they were close to the road, but because the road to get way up there was almost 8 miles really bumpy, and I didn't want to jar her nervous system before we harvested her medicine. We stopped only a few miles down Nootska Road, just over a culvert. The sun shone radiantly as we got out of the car. Heather waited and journaled while I headed upstream.

I set forth with good intention, knowing that it would be just fine if this was not the area to harvest. I crossed over some sword fern communities toward a conifer, whose branches parted gently to reveal a "path" for me--there was no specific path, but there were areas that were less dense than others. There were many ferns, and a few large trees and some smaller trees, but mostly, this area felt more like a wetland-thicket than a forest. Hardly 100 feet from the road, I began to see communities of Devil's Club, rising from the ground in their twisted style. There were so many, perhaps a 10x15 patch to my left, and I was in awe and I continued deeper. I began to vocalize my intention, saying "for my friend." Soon, I came around the corner of a few birch trees to a "clearing" filled with even more Devil's Club. Everywhere I looked, I saw more. I continued around the trees, and I knew then that this was the spot. I felt warm, welcomed and good about this community, and I felt like that area was "sanctuary."

I crouched down and admired the strength of these plants. I realized that, for all my research and interest in this plant, I have barely scratched the surface of this plant's amazing power. Just its physical presence awes me, its twisty growth a metaphor for growth and development: we must continue to grow and stand as tall as we can, even though there are setbacks and difficulties. The smell was overwhelming, quite a powerful medicine in itself. I explained my intention again, and I cannot even begin to describe how right it felt (I was thinking in images for a little while--dreamlike, childlike, present, yet ancestral). I thought about my ancestors, how those whose blood flows through mine have taken this action before. I thought about Heather and envisioned her "inner bark" being strenthened by this inner bark.

I chose a stem at the edge of a cluster of stems at the periphery of one of the many communities. Then I began to clear away the fallen leaves, the sepias, the ochres, the light greens, the grays. I cleared away a few layers of dirt and felt the rhizome, close to the surface, much like the bones in our bodies. Again, the smell was so powerful. I excavated the soil near the roots, digging down less than a foot along about a foot stretch. The rhizome was loose, and some of the little roots were giving way. At that point, I was surprized, because the rhizome shot in a 90-degree angle to a stem about a foot away, a stem that I did not even think could be connected to the stem whose rhizome I had chosen. I was ready to break the rhizome off from its lifeline, so I broke off a connected spiny stem and I lifted the rhizome. As I did so, there was a subtle sound of some of the the little roots coming out of the ground, reminding me of the sound of hairs being pulled out of my head. After I cleanly broke the rhizome, I grabbed my half of my hair, pulling on it, and pulling some of it out, gently, but with still with force. I did this a few times, and set the thin clumps of hair along the space where the rhizome had been, looking something like an almost invisible set of nests. (My hair, normally dark brown, looked white against the soil--happy autumn color association revelation to me). I buried my hair, and began the process of giving thanks.

As I covered the space back up with soil and leaves, I noticed one of the leaves was a wild ginger plant with root/rhizome still attached: I had unearthed it in my process. Fortunately, it was intact and healthy and said something like "Oh, just replant me there," which I did: right in the center of where the Devil's Club rhizome had been. I had noticed ginger on the way, but then I looked around to see that the wild ginger plants were everywhere. EVERYWHERE! I touched a few and smelled my fingers to be certain. Yes, they were wild ginger and they were so numerous that I had to tiptoe to not step on them in some areas.

As I surveyed my harvest area, I stood up. I looked to my right and this one plant called out to me. It was a Devil's Club stalk that had definitely been clipped at an angle by a human tool several years ago. The stalk was spiky and about 5 inches out of the ground. Now, this may sound...anyway, it said to me, in all seriousness, "I want to go to Heather, too." The funny thing about that is that the whole time, I had been saying "for my friend, my friend," not really speaking or saying or even thinking her name, but this plant seriously said to me, "Heather." Just then I noticed that its true root was very very close to the surface: it was a thick one, and I could just see the top of it as it dove into the soil. Here, instinct took over (plants telling you what they want to do can humble one's mind) and I put my fingers around this root. I don't even remember moving the dirt at all, but I snapped it off, and the little thing was about 8 inches long, one true root that separated into two that intertwined. I figured then that this root was seriously powerful medicine and would be another element of the medicine we would make.

I left the area and made my way back to the stream: as I did so, I saw many Devil's Club plants and I sung a song of thanks for allowing me to take their brother and sister. It was a great song, very funny and uplifting, the cadence of a child's song. I would later tell Heather that I felt about 4 years old at that point. I took some pictures as I approached the end of the Devil's Club communities, kissing the spikes of one.

I was extremely excited to tell Heather this story. Later in the day, we processed the

Devil's Club at her home. I scrubbed off the thin outer bark and used a potato peeler

to take the inner bark off in strips (which I later cut in small pieces for maximum

surface area) while she chopped the true roots.

This took some time, and we talked and laughed and awed as we did so.

Just as her family was returning, we were ready to cover the Devil's Club with the

vodka. We did, and I headed out (after telling Heather to make a decoction of a

few of the leftovers, then pour the decoction into her bathwater). I shared with her

the ways I've seen people use the heartwood of the stem.