All the following scenarios are real, they happened to me, just all names have been changed.

 Scenario 1:

Envision the little elementary school in R. not far from where I live. Mostly white kids, a few Asian and about 12 Native students; Some Mohawk, some Ojibwa, some from other tribes, who’s parents moved here....

The subject of the day was family - and so all the kids in grade 1 were asked to tell how many siblings they have - counting them, you know....

All goes well, until it is little Charley BlackOtter’ turn to speak.

“15”! he announces.

“WHAT???” the teacher wonders - “No, Charley, are you sure?

” Yes!” The teacher is perplexed and decides to let it go for now. She knows, that Charley's mom has him and 3 other kids at home.

. Now the teacher is really perplexed. To make matters worse, Charley gets teased during recess. To make THAT matter worse, an older Native boy rises to the occasion of protector and brings all his followers. They whack the white kids with their tennis shoes because they made fun of Charley and his mom and SHE is a BLackOtter!!!

The teaches break up the fight and discuss with Charley the consequences of telling tall stories that are not quite true. Little Charley , now in the principal’s office, hangs his head and confesses, yes, he was wrong, he has 17 brothers and sisters, not 15 and he is sorry he had miscounted.

The school staff discusses the matter further. The teacher does have to call Charley’s mom anyway and asks her again about, how many kids she has. “What business is it of yours” is the answer. the teacher explains: Mom BlackOtter replies: If Charley says he has 17 brothers and sisters, than that must be true!” NOW the principal is perplexed. But she also knows; it has something to do with being Native. Just what exactly...???

Maybe the kids of his 2 aunties count as siblings????

She also checks her records and finds out, Ms BlackOtter is in her late twenties and lives in a “common law partnership”

She also knows - from the local gossip, that Charley’s grandma is a “special” person. Not that she always was - Thelma R. in her days was known to be a famous drunk and “loose” and none of her 6 kids are from the same father, ifff indeed a father was known at all. Thelma was at one time a reasonably good student in the church run residential school over near P. but then had “turned sour” = gotten pregnant, claimed the priest to be the father (Oh what a nasty accusation that was back in the days...) The child was taken away from her after his birth abd given for adoption by the Church and Thelma had “married the bottle” and was known as a lay down drunk” up into her mid 40 ties... But then somehow she had managed to sober up, collect all her various kids around her and had moved back out to the land. = a small parcel of land that due to some treaty was her family's...

Now thelma was some sort of a matriarch and not good to eat Cherries with. She had taken up the “Old religion “ and now was considered an Elder and highly respected by her folks.

the principal was not inclined to tackle Thelma or anyone of her daughters. But still... she would love to find out, what was behind the 17 brothers and sisters, that Charley claimed to have.

Hmmm..... Maybe she should phone that Medicine woman- lady who comes to the school and teaches about Native customs.

So my phone rings.

Well, Lets see, if we can shed some light into Charley’s family relations:

1) Charley’s mom was married for a brief time to an Ojibwa guy from Ignace, further west, they had the oldest, now in G. high school and soon to graduate from there. That marriage broke up when the man moved out to Alberta and lives together with a lovely Cree lady and has 2 kids with her - and the one she adopted from her sister that had a few too many and so - in Alberta Charley has 3 siblings....because in Ojibwa culture, your brother’s brothers and sisters are your brothers and sisters....

2) Then there is little Hannah and her dad, who did not stay long either, but he now lives out on the reservation, and has 3 more kids -all waaaay older than Hannah but - Charley’s siblings.

3)Then Charley’s dad, who lives out in P. with another lady. He has 3 kids with her, but she has 2 from a previous marriage = +5 siblings for Charley

4)Then there is Henry, the guy that is now Ms BlackOtter’s common law husband and with whom she has little Ella and baby Henry the 2nd.

Henry is a nice guy, but he has an ex- wife on Curve Lake with 2 kids and then there was this crazy girlfriend before Charley’s mom and there also was a little baby.... now being raised by Henry’s mother in Curve Lake.... that then would be Charlie’s sister Marjory....

Soooo: Do I know all these people ?

No. I know Elder Thelma S. and 2 of her daughters from the Pow Wow in T. last year. But I know, how Ojibwa society works and how people view relations.

And I can explain it to the principal in the school. - Now, were we to add all the kids from Charley’s Aunties and Uncles, we would be in the 60 kids range - easy.

But Charley is smart. He knows already, that white people do not count these brothers and sisters....:)

Good for him!

 

 

Crazzzzzzzy Coon!

Since about a year now, I have a new vice: A cup of coffee in the afternoon!

Not just any coffee, my own special mix: a spoon full of TC French Vanilla coffee, a spoon of sugar, s swig of natural vanilla extract (happy juice”), half the mug filled with boiling water, the rest milk or 10% cream -.... mmmmmmhhh!

Delicious!

After that treat I have new élan and the rest of the day is fun!

and so it was yesterday, that at 3.00 in the afternoon I left alruna’s Greenwood pouch behind, brewed my special mix and with it and my new edition of Sage Woman slipped out onto the upper deck for a little r+r.

But It was not meant to be.:(

After barely 3 sips the phone rang and one of my clients, distressed and with hoarse screeches in her voice demanded my full attention for at least an hour......

Well, where was my coffee I thought having in mind, to re-heat the treat and...

No, there was the phone again1 My friend J form england. I was delighted to hear hew voice and we chatted for - - at least another hour....

Then..... My husband, currently in Europe rang and we delved into a serious

palaver about his aging parents in their long term care facility.....

After that, dare I say, it was well into evening, dinner time and a little visit to AT....

Suffice to say, I was getting late and then, just past 10.00pm,

there was a loud ruckus outside on our decK! Our Raccoons had arrived. For the amount of noise I expected to see al 8 of them and was quite surprised, to see only the little male, one of “Finger-Eater’s” kids from last season. He is quite tame and so I was not too surprised, when he jumped up on my leg in greeting!

And Whoa!! He jumped again!! and again!!!! with all 4 feet into the air at once!

“What’s up, buddy?”

He just ate one or two of the cat-kibbles offered and proceded to jump around on the deck, keckering and squealing!

Then he “upped the antis” and jumped up onto the railing and ran like crazy from one side of the other on top of this precarious balancing beam. “Wishe’e!!, what is up with you?” He now proceded to jump clear into the thin night air just to land again on his 4 feet on the railing....

and again....

and again.....

And a.... plompffff!

Having missed the 1inch plank, he sank out of sight like a stone.

I got the flashlight. He lay below amongst the sleeping Dandelions, motionless.

I raced downstairs to his side. Gently touched his prone body....

JUMP!!

He sprang back to life like a “Jack in the Box,” raced across the clearing to the nearest tree, up the trunk keckering like a wild witch! :bugeyed:

He jumped along one of the almost horizontal branches and then across to the next tree and out of sight... Still keckering madly....

“Oh NOOOOO! I thought! Is he gone mad??? Rabies??? What can I dooooo?”

I went back upstairs and onto the deck to see iffff maybe there was some blood or something giving me a clue....

OH YES!!!!

There was!!!

My empty coffee mug, spilled on the table, carefully licked clean by an eager little pink tongue!

Coffee-Crazed Coon Alarm!

 

 

 

I was on the Baysville walkabout - Street-fair and rummage sale.

Soooo much to see and vendors were setting up more and more....

All of a sudden I heard a voice close to me. A none human voice!!!! ( No I am NOT an escapee from the local mental health facility- - - I am a shaman and regularly hear none humans talking - to me and among themselves.....)

"Here I am!!!" the voice said, coming out of a bottomless bin of all sorts of clothing and fabric...

So I dug down - and grabbed hold of a large piece of ?????

cow hide!!???????!!??

"I want to be a Medicine Pouch!!" It said

"YOU" I 'answered' !?? You are not Wild Animal!

You are - - just a cow!!!"

Sooooo??? What's wrong with that? You do not like cow???

 

You eat cow! I KNOW!

I lifted the hide up to check the condition. looked good! nice and soft and clean. 

"How much?" I asked. "$ 20.00 was the answer.

"Or - I trade you for a $ 20.00 pair of earrings, Mi-Shell....!!

"Deal!" I put the talking hide onto my pile of goodies and kept looking.....  

The hide had to wait her turn - until a rainy October afternoon until I got around to making something out of it. And then the problem was, she did not want me to cut her into smaller pieces of waist anything of her at all... Just to cut and shape the handle was a loooooong negotiation.....

Cows seem to have their own mind about things and are not taking NO for an answer.

Now however I am done.

I fulfilled my bargain and put 14 hours of labour into it!

I smudged it on October Full Moon in honor of the Goddess!

Now the pouch can talk to you!

Have fun!

Mi-Shell

 

..... Evenings however are more my "thing"!

On Tuesday evenings in the summer our drum circle gathers in the gazebo in the park in downtown. I usually sit in the North, a habit of mine....

I have a clear view of the park, the adjacent side road and the houses and gardens beyond.

For the last few evenings I had noticed, that we have not only the rather ordinary large black Squirrels here in town, we also have at least two, who have quite a few white blotches in their otherwise black fur. It is fun to drum and at the same time watch them racing up the trees and across the hydro lines...:)

So I was somewhat used to seeing little black and white critters hopping across the gras.

But wait a minute!

This little one there - - that was not one of the Squirrels!

That was a baby Skunk!

With much determination the tiny fellow made its way across the green expanse, through the flower beds of the war memorial and towards the busy main road.

Forget drumming, I was going to prevent the little Zhigaag wag (Ojibwa) getting hurt - or run over.

So I ran at an angle across the grass to intercept him. He was not impressed or in any way afraid when I blocked his way.

He stubbornly again and again tried to walk around me towards Main Street!

I was rapidly running out of room, just a few steps to the sidewalk. People started to stop and cars honked their horn. My drum circle friends were laughing, making jokes and having a lot of fun.

Little Zhigaag wag was NOT having fun at all and pressed on. I did not want to get "perfumed" and so did not grab the little tyke; I would have loved to just "sack him and take him to my wooded home far far away from any cars...

But I had nothing to put him into for transport and I just could not afford to smell like Pepe Le' Pew's lover next morning on the Farmer's Market....

So I grabbed an old newspaper out of the trash can and shoved him rather roughly around into the direction where he came from. He sort of got the idea and hesitantly started back across the lawn; me screeching and hollering and waving the newspaper less than a yard behind his plumed backside.

It was quite a show and we had quite an audience!

Finally at the other side of the park; then across the side street and into the first garden......

Somewhere here should be his mom and his siblings!

I hope he will be all right, living in downtown......

I hope he will be mindful of humans, dogs and cars....

I am NO good in the Morning!

I just do not do Mornings!

I just can't do Mornings!

My Miahanits =Spirit Guardians are all night creatures!

They do not "do" mornings either!

E'eren Börü =Wolf does not hunt in the morning!

Far from it.

No Wolf does.

And Owls do not either. They sit on a branch in the shade and snooooooooze!

Since I do not have a branch to sit on, I sit on my chair.

Since, especially in the summer season I can not afford to snoooooooooze the morning away, I sit there on the craft show - or our Farmers' Market, behind my table and try to keep awake and try to "fake it".

All my mice (or in this case jewelry creations...) are neatly lined up for your perusal, I have a fake grin on my face, so you do not see, how difficult it is, how awful I feel, how slow and irregular my heart beats and how mushy my thought process is. Ifffff you were to come over to say hello, ifffff I hear you, with my one and only relatively good ear, ifffff I interact with you at all, it may be in a rather strange way: A Wolf-ish growl, an Owl-ish hoot....

- - "Ooops; what did she say?"

Some people see me sitting there half snooooooozing and to take advantage of that with all too quick hands, grabbing one of my nicely lined up mice - and trying to slip away.....

.....hoping, I am too sluggish to notice- or react in time....

However; they are sadly mistaken! They will not be confronted by me, but by the fierce Guardian predator in me!

No Wolf will allow you to steal one of his bones -

No Owl will let you get away with one of her mice, previously hunted and now nicely lined up on a branch for later consumption on.....

You will encounter sharp Wolf's teeth biting down at you hands,

- - or Owl talons clamping down at your wrist, prying loose the piece you tried to snatch....

And the words uttered then, will sound more Wolf language than nice English....

 

So this year, until I am awake......

....until I somehow manage to think straight,

....until I remember my name and what this Farmer's Market or craft show is all about.........

I will keep the heavy glass lids of my treasure boxes closed.

So I can sit in front of them and snoooooooze and people will not get bitten by a Wild One!

 

 A month ago:

It is my friend Lynn’s birthday!

I drop by at the re-store, where she works, to give her a hug and a little birthday present.

 “She is not here” her boss tells me. “She had to go to the clinic, for some tests and will not be coming back today”

’ “Oh, ok,” I say. “I will stop by in a few days then...”

A few days later Lynn is there, behind the desk as always!

“Happy belated birthday!” I say, holding up her present.

“Oh, Hi Mi-Shell!“ We reach across the sales desk to hug.

 The instant I feel her in my embrace my joy dies. All I can feel, all I can see is Blue, hard, steely Blue.

It fills my soul with cold shock! Blue is the colour I see in others, when........

 “Oh NO! PLEASE!”

 Blue is the colour I “see“, when someone has cancer......

 “How are you ?“ I manage to ask her, my voice shaking.

“I am ok,” she answers, but her eyes tell a different truths, her mouth is not smiling anymore either.

 I do take both her hands into mine. “Tell me! What is it?, You know, you can....” Her eyes fill with tears. “My mammogram turned out bad and the ultrasound too.... It is still too early to tell, but the doctor said I better steel myself for a bad diagnosis. It is still small, but looks spidery and feels hard I will have a biopsy done tomorrow.....”

 We hug again. She feels is just as blue as the first time. Her tears lace my shoulder.

 “I was not going to tell anyone, not until I get the results of the biopsy back...Please do not tell my kids or my sister, they will freak out, because we lost our mom and 2 aunts to it.....”

“Of course not” I promise. “But until then, you can talk to me, day and night, whenever you need to.....”

More hugs.

 “Now open your present.”

 She does. It is a Wolf Necklace and matching earrings.

 Maheengun the Wolf is the Spirit of endurance and survival skills.

She will need both.... ...................................................................................................................

I pray

for the day

 that the Blue

 is gone away!

.........................................

 I still pray......

Her mastectomy date is on the 15th....

I will keep cradling her late night fears....

I will keep praying.....

The Morrigane:

I am sitting on my beading table, listening to the radio while working.
My back hurts, time for a break.
The news anchor tells about how many Canadian Soldiers have been killed in Afghanistanin recent days.
What a horrible conflict. I turn it of, grab a cup of tea and go outside onto the deck. It is sunny again! The greenery that surrounds me is still wet from a recent rainstorm.I sit down in my favorite chair.

Where DO they go? - All those young soldiers, that get killed??

Behind close eyes the scene arises:
Yellowish brown desert dust, a barely recognizable vehicle of same colour. Behind it a young lad in army fatigues, crouches for cover, firing at an unseen opponent 100 yards away. Adrenalin pumping through young vibrant vessels, pushing out screaming fear.
Then the vehicle explodes into a yellow fireball, belching black smoke and the adrenaline surges into open empty space drenched in blood......
And there - She materializes out of the smoke and despair- like a phantom - Morrigane.
Reddish purple cloak, heavy with spiralling beading of marcasites, hematite, garnet and jade. A hauntingly beautiful face, a decade past its prime. Looong tresses of black curly hair, graying at the temples, adorned with bluish black Raven feathers.
Amidst the fire, the chaos and destruction the soul-orb of the fallen warrior turns from living rich red to opaque white, hovers above its former body-home - confused....
She bends down, Her slim, delicate, cupped hands lift up the orb and gently transfer it into the bone bowl at her feet. With it She rises, turns to leave, while a rain of bullets race clear through Her shape towards their intended targets.
Where does She go?

............................. There is an ancient stone wall.
Overgrown with ivy and vines heavy with royal blue grapes. A barrage of "Daddy longlegs" with dark red and yellow-orange bodies guard this place. A Seven-Sleeper emerges from the thick, ready to greet his mistress.
Bone bowl in hand She walks through the entrance into the grotto.
In its middle a huge cauldron, hewn from rock, studded with the crystals of destiny.
A stone bench holds phials and soft leather pouches, containing memories, tears and healing.
In a low alto voice Her chant arises.
Aiiiliho iii'uiho hoo'............

It is now heating the waters of transformation and giving voice to all the pain in the known multiverse, vexing it into silence.
She ads the sands and dusts of garnet and hematite into the waters and russet vapour billows up, filling the space.
Summoned by the chant, the shimmering essence of the long departed condenses into a group of iridescent green-yellow orbs, alive with the faces of his ancestors.
She raises the bone bowl, holds it to Her womb, Her heart, Her temples and then high above the cauldron. Ever so slowly she tilts it, until the soul-orb floats free.
Spiralling slowly it is shedding its red colour back into the cauldron below, then, floating towards the waiting ones, it assumes their yellowish-green glow.
An ancestor among ancestors.

That is, how our warriors return home.

She lowers her arms, the vapour vanishes, all turns to black.
All that remains is the all knowing Seven Sleeper ... (dormouse).

And even She metamorphoses into the Squirrel, sitting on my knee,begging for nuts...

I get up- to make a necklace out of garnet, Hematite, marcasites and bone beads.....

...... to honour Her.

 

 

Daily spiritual practice is, what brings forth personal growth and I find, it also sharpens and deepens my extrasensory abilities that are so essential in my shamanic work as a seer, healer and teacher.

One part of my daily practice is meditating just after I get up in the morning, before breakfast. It is the magical “in between time”, when I am awake and “wide open“, but not yet in the grip of the hectic day ahead.

 During the last 2 weeks or so I use a reading in the book “Messages of the Great Goddess” by S. D. von Gagern as my focus point for the morning meditation.

 Inspired by ancient engravings into the soft rock inside the many caves of the Ile-de-France, this lady developed a set of symbols that are to empower women and lead them to experience the sacred feminine within themselves.

With this book in hand I step out onto our deck into a beautiful spring morning filled with birdsongs. I sit down in a comfy chair and read today’s exercise.

It focuses on an ancient petroglyph, a triangle with a small circle in its centre and equates this symbol as one example of the beginnings of sacred geometry.

The reader is then advised to visualize this symbol drawn in pure light upon the third eye or brow chakra and concentrate on the energy it emits.

I put the book aside, lean back, close my eyes and make the symbol appear on my forehead. It forms as pale yellow light, then develops fine, hair-like grey lines throughout and then just as fast “defragments” along these lines, bursting apart, growing, spreading outward, and exploding... All over my body, top to toe, I now am pale yellow with spider-like grey lines!

 A sentence falls into my head:” My third eye is in my left toe!”

But there is no time to comprehend the meaning of that; as I see, from my toe on outward, the pale yellow - grey patterned energy is spreading across the deck in front of me and along the cloth line where, our bird feeders are hanging! Then it races out into the surrounding forest, into and across the water, across the vast land, all across Mother Earth, across the Universe and beyond and also back into me from behind. ”Everywhere” is my third eye and “everywhere” is a part of me and I am “everywhere“.

 A part of this “everywhere” is scampering up my leg, sits up on my knee and starts keckering loudly.

“The third eye on my knee wants peanuts!”

It is not easy to continue meditating with a Squirrel sitting on the knee!

I KNOW!

 I tried before!

.........................................................................................................................................

..........................

Thoughts about chakras:

Chakras have “rules!

 - rules like how many one is supposed to have

- rules like where they are

 - rules like what colours they have

- rules like what exactly they activate and enhance

 - rules???????

 - Why only THERE?????

 - What ifffff my - or one of my chakras is in my left toe - or my right???? !!!

 - Or my elbow??!!

 - I have chakras everywhere! :)

- All kinds of them!! :)

- and since I am a part of the Universe and the Universe is a part of me - -

- - one of my chakras is the Canada Goose nesting in our pond!

 - and one is the Squirrel!

- and the Hummingbird that is darting around my nose right now!

- - ? Why am I meditating outside while wearing a red sweatshirt?????

My students often ask me, how it all fits together, living and working within a shamanistic world view, being creative and making a living selling shamanistic art.... So I thought I let you in - a little - into the creative process:

Since about 15 years I create "Medicine Pieces" = large Medicine pouches, staffs, shields, wands, smudging fans, baskets to hold smudging supplies and a variety of other ritual objects.

Some of them are for sale through Bearpaw jewellery, (www.bearpawjewellery.com = our art business, others are created for personal use, for friends or are commission work. Each one however is unique and has its own personal story.

My latest creation is a large Medicine pouch , mainly white rabbit fur and this is its story:

I received the fur as gift for teachings given in a class about intuitive oracle readings.

Right away it was clear, that it would be most appropriate to create a pouch honoring the Spirit of the Goddess in her Spring manifestation as Ostara.

I also wanted the pay my respects to Kaltje', the Siberian Mother of Spring, melting snows and new life as well as her Guardian Animal, the Snowshoe Hare.

So I waited for the right sign, to begin my work. The sign appeared one April Morning, Thursday before Easter in the form of Kaltje' herself, sitting outside, in front of our wood pile! What a Surprise!

We rarely get to see the Snowshoe Hares when they change colours!

Inspired I started cutting the fur and sowing the pouch.

Then, late at night I took my drum and with a steady fast beat went on a trance journey to try and find Kaltje'. Emerging from the swirling tunnel of light and colors I found myself in a place at the mouth of a large cave, its entrance halfway overgrown with dry vines, bramble fallen rocks, barren branches from nearby shrubs. I adjusted my inner vision to the dim light and saw the dark brown ancient old Earth Goddess emerging from the depts of the cave. She was old, her voluptuous form sagging, breasts heavy and pendulous from nurturing all her children. But then, touched by the light outside the cave and right in front of me she changed into a young strapping maiden, breasts high, nipples pointy, belly flat, tights smooth and strong. Her body covered in strange petroglyphic images the likes of which I had never seen.

She lay down before me and I - in the trance vision - started to dance around her with my drum and then with a water pitcher and a feather on a reed as percussion instruments... When I stood above her head I also was amazed to realize, that her whole body was the head, face and ears of a Rabbit!

Flames emitted from her right leg and she melted away into the brown Earth below her, just to re-emerge as a profusion of fresh greens and spring flowers.....

Wouwwwwwwh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 .........................................................................................................................

The next day I strived to incorporate aspects of this powerful vision into the centre-piece for the pouch.

I cut the general shape of the Goddess out of copper sheet and etched all the chevrons I had seen onto her abdomen and wing-like arms.

I equipted her with a miniature water pitcher like the one from the vision - to represent the Element of Water.

She received a feather into the left hand - to honor the element of AIR

Her left leg is adorned with green jade beads and a hand carved wooden leaf to represent the element of Earth

The right leg symbolizes the Fire I saw spewing from it.

But turned on her head she reveals the secret of her origin: The face of the Rabbit Kaltje'

The little Earth Mother is surrounded by some of the Medicine Symbols I saw on the body of the Goddess during the vision. Drawing them, I was able to feel clearly, that most represent the mystery of Woman and the Power of transformation. 

I felt compelled to ad more drawings into the inlet:

Misacamigo-que, first Woman, giving birth, petroglyph from the Teaching Rocks north of Peterborough, Ontario and another depiction of her dancing the dance of Life.

The Rabbit Spirit Kaltje' known to the first Nations here in Ontario as Nanabush the Rabbit - man and trickster creator

Misquadei-she', Mother Earth the Turtle with her eggs = future

The mighty She -Bear - protectress of women, of child birth and of all small helpless young creatures

Into the center I tried to draw the young Earth Goddess dissolving into the living Earth...

Now it was time to decorate the pouch with feathers:

I selected speciffic feathers for the spiritual/ animistic significance of the bird it originated from:

Hawk = nobility, discernment, farsightedness

Crow = the dark Goddess, omens and auspicious signs

Heron = leadership, pragmatism, patience

Owl = Wisdom, change, detachment -

Barred Owl = the Power to see the unseen, detect illness and to heal

through ritual, dreams and trance

Pheasant = comfort, satisfaction, harmony

Turkey = giving thanks for the abundance provided by the Earth Mother

Ruffed Grouse - drumming, dancing, ceremonie, trance

Parrot - South, emotions, personal growth

White Swan - Soul life, love, beauty, good fortune is always bestowed by the Swan Maidens of Siberia, the daughters of Umai, the Earht Goddess. The Swan Maidens live in the Pleiades

Now I will have to try and ad a picture of this creation to this site. A close-up of the little Goddess is on my picture page.  :) 

And then all that remains to be done is to smudge and invocate the pouch come New Moon....

Then it will be alive, will be its own person and will find its speciffic owner!

 

 

 

 

 

Oh!

This is exiting!

I never had an on-line journal!

So this is a FIRST!

So: today Is April 19th 2009.

It was a sunny day and I was working on 2 new Medicine Pouches. One is all white Snowshoe Hare fur with a silk and Deer leather lining.

As a center piece I cut and soldered a goddess figure out of etched red copper, that, when reversed, looooooks like a Rabbit! In Honor of the Siberian Bayan Kaltes, the - what you guys would call -Goddess of Spring and fertility.

The other pouch is for smudging supplies = Sage, Cedar shavings, Juniper berries and twigs and Tobacco. It is out of Deer leather and has a beaded design of the 6 directions on the front and a turtle carved from bone form Moose on the back!

Tomorrow I will decorate the pouches with beads and feathers from wild birds.

Then they will be ready for a picture!

Now I hear our Raccoon teenagers on the deck, squabbling over the cat food I put out for them...

They were born late last summer and were just weaned, when the snow came in late October. Their mother brought them faithfully every night to get some food. they would not have survived otherwise. In spite of the cold winter they did not hibernate like raccoons normally do up herein Canada. they did not have enough fat reserves. Now they are almost grown and quite rambunctious!

So I better go and check on them.....

Talk to you soon!