At this moment in time, I find myself longing for a world filled with truth, loyalty and love. Sometimes it’s the brown landscape and capricious weather of late winter that prompts this longing; sometimes it’s the actions of others. Many people at DR remark on the weather at this point in the winter. In Northeast Missouri, our Februarys often have clusters of warm days and soft breezes. It took me a few winters here to catch on to the weather pattern of mild Februarys and then March weather coming in like the 13 Valkyries of Norse mythology: relentless, sharp, cold winds, some snow, rain and days and days of overcast, dull skies. And every year people become hopeful in February that winter is loosening its grip, but it’s just weather trickery.
Liz here, bringing the latest about Dancing Rabbit to you, dear gentle reader.
Last winter I experienced bouts of depression and anxiety, so this winter I made a pact with myself that self care would be front and center on a daily basis. I have kept up my workouts at the gym and added a daily walk and daily qigong (an ancient Chinese movement meditation). Fifteen minutes of a full spectrum light in the morning and copious amounts of vitamin D3 with vitamin K2 have also helped enormously.
For several years now I have avoided going to a social event we call Night of the Poet, which is modeled after the famous Scottish Robert Burns Night celebrations that are held around the world in January. The Dancing Rabbit version invites community members to the Mercantile to share their own poetry, or go traditional and share something with Scottish roots, or anything in between.
Luckily, Daniel and Tails have been willing over several years to organize, cook for, and host this evening of reading poems and stories, and singing songs. They make meat and vegan versions of haggis, and serve it with “neeps and tatties,” otherwise known as parsnips and mashed potatoes.
This year I was inspired by my burgeoning interest in all things Scottish to attend the event. I spent a month rehearsing a traditional Scottish folk song, and managed to find a plaid (but not tartan, alas) shirt to wear.
I woke the day of the event to the news of a fire at Martin House (aka Timberframe). As the host of Saturday coffee group, I pieced together what happened as people trickled in with what they knew and different people made plans to help repair the eight-by-four-foot-sized hole in the strawbale wall that had been cut in the wall to prevent the smoke from spreading. We all agreed that straw bales were the way to go for walls, as fires are hard to start in compressed straw, and when a fire does start, it can smolder for hours without toxic fumes, giving people a chance to discover the fire, escape safely and have the fire department respond. A conventionally-built house often burns down completely within 20-30 minutes.
By the time I was seated at a table eating vegan haggis, I just plain chickened out over singing my song. I watched several people wrestle with their courage to get up in front of the group and perform, and I admire their eventual leap of faith to do it. I put an inordinate amount of faith in my intuition, and it advised me to enjoy the evening, be kind to myself, and to look forward to next year’s opportunity (I already have a new song picked out).
We are fortunate to have the local fire chief as a member of our community. Javi brings a lot of experience and planning to the fire management of our 280 acres. He has organized and managed several burns this winter, when the wind and humidity are low risk. The burns lower the amount of combustible brush that could fuel a wildfire and burn invasive plant species from the prairie landscape.
A group of Rabbits went to St. Louis with Javi and his family to witness his US citizenship ceremony in January. Congratulations to you, Javi!
And until spring returns with sunlight, greenery and soft breezes, I will light my internal lantern and cultivate peace and compassion for all of us.
Liz Hackney is the editor of this missive and a regular contributing writer.