Building Bridges To The Black

Back in April, a couple of my relatives came to visit for an overnight stay. Michael Sanford is my sister’s husband Kevin’s brother, and although not by blood, my brother, too. His son Alec, skateboard extraordinaire and able protégé, also joined for the twelve-hour drive from Framingham, Massachusetts, by way of their hometown of Concord, a small village in central Michigan.

My relationship with the Sanford boys is a significant one, considering I more than likely would have nevertaken on a country home and substantial acreage without their influence. Having grown up in Concord, these ‘ol boys were born off the grid, being country way before country was cool. They were the ones who first showed me how to run a wood stove without burning the house down, how to wield a shotgun (“paint the sky Paulie, paint the sky!”), and how hunters plays an important and noble role in many rural communities. I remember meeting Mike and Kev at the start of Pheasant season in a hay field twenty years ago, as they rolled up in their bright orange hats and vests. When I inquired how the day was, they claimed to have been skunked, not having seen a single bird all morning. Just as we clasped hands, almost on cue, a big, brilliant long-tailed male flushed from the brush a hundred yards behind them. “Might that be one right there?” I offered up. “That might be!”, they replied, turning, loading, locking and taking off running. Love it when signs of abundance spring forth from the natural world.

Mike’s the consummate handy man and can craft just about anything, swinging an axe and running a saw like an old school Midwest woodsman. Alec appears to be not more than a step or two behind him. Who better to take on the task of opening up access to the middle branch of the Black River that touches the Southeast corner of the property? Down there the wetland’s swampy, black-green muck makes it like the Mei Kong Delta during a hot Vietnam summer, having swallowed down more than one flip flop in my attempts to bushwack my way through. As forecast, by morning they’d cleared a path, put in earthen embankments, and carved a set of stairs into the path’s steep slope. By afternoon, in words taken from Alec’s Facebook post, “Got the opportunity to clear a path, build two footbridges and construct a set of stairs. With the help of my dad we were able to drop two trees and drive 200+ nails into 30″ deck boards in order to make the Black River more accessible to my Uncle Paul ‪#‎hardworkalwayspaysoff” Amen to that. Considering the structure of this place will span gaps and barriers to better living for many, the passage provided a needed addition.

Now, after a sweat, in the heat of the summer, we can submerge ourselves in the cool waters of the Black, fish for steelhead as they make their way up to spawn, and drop a kayak in more readily for the long float and portage to the lake. Say what you will about guests being like Lake Michigan Steelhead, perhaps giving off a distinct scent after three days. Kin or anyone else who can craft cool stuff are always welcome to come here and stay a spell.

I will walk alone by the Black muddy river
And listen to the ripples as they moan
I will walk alone by the Black muddy river
And sing me a song of my own – Grateful Dead

The Dirt On Human Health

Lightning flashes, thunder rolls, the earth is shaken awake and plants miraculously revive with renewed life. Spring has sprung and farming is officially ON in Southwest Michigan, as our fallow fields will soon be seeded with new prospects. When it comes to farming, I am admittedly still a bit green (pun intended), but am doing my best to work my fields, rapt for another season of growth and progress.

Interestingly, I just purchased a Probiotic formula (“Pro” means Positive and “Biotic” means Life) of living microflora from a local health food store. Present in many live foods but destroyed by heat and processing, live probiotic cultures populate the intestinal tract where they play a positive role in digestive system health. 75% of the cells necessary for the immune system to function effectively are connected to the gastrointestinal tract, as proper digestion is essential for the body to absorb and utilize nutrients needed.

What in the world does this have to do getting down in the dirt with a rumbling, Hasqvarna rear roto tiller? Well, when I consulted with the stores wellness expert, she pointed out that the shop’s best formula – Garden of Life’s Primal Defense Ultra Ultimate Probiotic – contains 13 beneficial species, including Homeostatic Soil Organisms (B. subtilis) and S. boulardi. “Because we aren’t down in the soil anymore, because our hands and feet are no longer in the earth, these elements are distinctly missing from our makeup.” Healthy “living” soils make for food with better nutrient content. And by “living” we mean soils that are teeming with microorganisms such as bacteria, fungi, protozoa, and microscopic roundworms called nematodes. Soil health then connects to everything up the food chain, from plant and insect health, all the way up to animal and human health. Health itself, therefore, truly begins in the soils in which our food is grown. The more ecologically we farm, the more direct nutrients we harvest.

A Blue Heron Haven

A magnificent discovery presented itself in the woods across the way today. I find cool stuff in the woods all the time, but this really was a scene splendid in appearance. For weeks, marking the bud of a garden-fresh Michigan Spring, fleets of Great Blue Herons have been gliding over the house and greening fields. You can't mistake their distinctive, regal forms against the sky - the slaty feathers, seven-foot wingspan and lanky, banking bodies, swooping in and making majestic landings out on the front lawn. In native cultures, the high-flying Eagle is honored as the celebrated messenger traveling to and from The Creator. But watch a Blue Heron ascending mightily out of a bog with breakfast in beak, and you'll know that when it comes to lofty dignity, these birds can hold their own.

The find was a Rookery or more specifically a Heronry, a breeding ground for Herons in the wetlands formed  by the Black River. After startling a few up from the pond  that flanks my front drive, ripping out in the early morning with the music up, I tried creeping down a couple times on foot in hopes of capturing a photo or two. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I followed all the raucous flapping to a small island in the woods, the upper limbs of its trees speckled with almost a dozen nests. This was and is a small colony of Great Blue Herons,  common in wetlands over most of North America and Central America, as well as the Caribbean and the Galápagos Islands. Although nests are often reused for many years and herons are socially monogamous within a single breeding season, individuals usually choose new mates and new nests each year. The males arrive at colonies first and settle on or build out bulky stick homes from which they coo and court females.

Busy now branding my place, I had the creative thought that The Blue Heron makes for an excellent symbol and good luck on several levels. A solitary feeder, Herons are often ponderous in their hunting efforts, weighing in the mind with thoroughness and great care, standing in stillness for lengthy stretches. Herons are also symbolic of trusting one's innate wisdom. On the biz side of things, The Higher Haven's initial Summer 2016 soft opening is made up of one-day Sunday retreats, gatherings that offer Yoga, Creative Meditation Instruction and Ceremonial Purification Rituals. Said plan has us currently looking to connect with teachers who'd be happy to make the short jaunt here with their "flock" to co-lead a mounting spiritual journey. The initial offer is a generous one, in hopes of forging strong, professional ties with great yoga teachers and other teachers of movement. If you are one or know one please get in touch to discuss being a part of The Blue Heron Yoga Program. Of course you'd have to bear down and endure a day or overnight in the lovely countryside of southwestern Michigan, only miles and minutes from the lake. If that sounds of interest, we are eager to connect.

Flying back to my lovely birds, I was actually utterly stressed out when I first found the Heronry. Working to get this place rolling over the last year and half since has pushed me beyond at times... and then pushed me a little further. But now, when it's all a little much (as it still often is), I head across the street  to be treated to images of the Pleistocene era or some other ancient epoch. With the shadowy forms of Pterodactyl-like beings floating out over the fields, then returning to their twiggy shelters, bills clenching food or fortifying sticks, I'm reminded of life's abundance, and realize that most of my blowups and proverbial fires are becoming tamer and tamer, usually resolving themselves by day's end. But If I catch myself in doubt, as I still do, I bring to mind the power of the neighborhood Blue Crew, visualizing a place where little is forced or fretted over, and all appears to unfold beautifully, naturally moment by moment.