Look back to August's blogs on the beauty of the Wet Meadow and all the medicine plants that resided there. Contrast those vibrant pictures with the scenes below.
My herbal student Erik and I left the house and yard after lunch to gather materials for smudge bundles. I had in mind visiting the little hedge of Sweet Fern that grew on the path by the old bottle dump. I had not been out in the fields and woods since Labor Day weekend when I injured my back. Now that I was feeling better, I was looking forward to a hike with Erik and a relaxing afternoon of putting together smudge bundles.
The first sign that something was amiss was discovering a pickup truck parked just beyond the Blackberry patch before the entrance to First Field. We stopped in our tracks and listened, sniffed, and sensed the energies. Should we go on, or should we return to the house? I ventured closer and decided that the truck had likely been parked since Friday. Pine needles and a few of the first Autumn leaves decorated the tops of the windshield wipers. The bed of the truck held two empty gas cans. We entered the field and discovered the mowing. A murder of Crows swooped the field calling out their ancient warnings. We abandoned our plans to pick Sweet Fern and began to explore the changes that had occurred. Through the woods we hastened past the bottle dump where Sweet Fern had been ripped from the ground, down the hill past Grandmother Maple and into the Wet Meadow, now a shadow of its former self. The field was cut down to the edge of deeply chasmed brook. Blue Vervain was gone. Only a small colony of Boneset and Gravel Root remained.
Below you can see the fill that made it possible for the tractor to cross the brook. I've never entered the field across the brook, but now I guess I can venture over there if I so choose.
The field was silent. No birds sang. No incessant hum of insects busy at their work was heard. I remembered the very large coiled garter snake I had met at the edge of the Wet Meadow on my last visit. He had been sunning himself in grassy game trail. I wonder where he took shelter during this huge transformation of his ecosystem.
In the end, Erik and I came home after a quick detour to check on Rabbit Tobacco in the gravel pit. We cut Mugwort, Juniper, Sweet Annie, Lavender, White Pine and Garden Sage and tied them tightly in bundles with cotton thread. When they dry, they will make nice smudge.
I don't know what may happen in the fields. It has been many years since they were cut. It may be that there are no further plans to change things, or perhaps something is going to change forever. I am quite grateful for the time I've spent there and will send healing to the land from my altar. When I visit next, I'll bring some land healing essences to bless the space and give it my good wishes for whatever the future may bring.
Running through my head during this experience has been an early sixties tune from the Brothers Four:
Once there were green fields kissed by the sun
Once there were valleys where rivers used to run
Once there were blue skies with white clouds high above
Once they were part of an everlasting love
We were the lovers who strolled through green fields
Green fields are gone now, parched by the sun
Gone from the valleys where rivers used to run
Gone with the cold wind that swept into my heart
Gone with the lovers who let their dreams depart
Where are the green fields that we used to roam
I'll never know what made you run away
How can I keep searching when dark clouds hide the day
I only know there's nothing here for me
Nothing in this wide world, left for me to see
Still I'll keep on waiting until you return
I'll keep on waiting until the day you learn
You can't be happy while your heart's on the roam
You can't be happy until you bring it home
Home to the green fields and me once again
