Our present forecast is for another terrible day of wind and fire. It’s no longer just the blazes to the east; one some distance west of us, stubbornly uncontained, apparently escaped such small control as was had last night and is racing this direction now. There is a gorge (and a lot of land) between it and us, but in a place and climate of twenty-foot winds that hurtle at tornadic speeds above a land dry as ash and bone, that’s not a lot of comfort now.
And, of course, there is always the risk of new ignitions locally. There were several yesterday morning on the back end of one of the extant fires to the east, a reminder that al it takes is one spark for our own world to go up in flames.
The early fire season and the long-term presence of such trickster winds are affecting migratory patterns now, too. I saw a couple of ducks flying low across the highway this morning, heading for the river (which, in places, is now cannot properly be called much more than a stream). Our hummingbird population has grown from one to four as of yesterday evening. Neither the towhee nor the yellowhead has returned, perhaps already heading for safer spaces, and we are without the grosbeaks, known here as the chokecherry birds virtually entirely this year.
Coyote has not shown himself to us, either, although this is very much his season. We know of his presence, though, courtesy of every dog on this side of the highway late in the evenings, when they all set up a yipping chorus in call-and-response style.
And then there are the smaller spirits. We have a few butterflies already, the little whites and sulphs that flutter low above the ground. No larger ones yet, although if the weather remains warm, we can hope for a mourning cloak or two, perhaps a swallowtail as well. There are no bees yet, either, but they usually appear in late May or early June, and since the wild raspberry patch is leafing and the bee balm is already lush, I expect that we shall see at least a few before long.
The dragonflies are another matter.
They have always been among the bright spirits of summer here, creatures of water and air and light combined, and this land is known for a stunning diversity of sizes and colors among them and their smaller damselfly cousins. But the key word here is water.
And there is none.
In some traditions, including those in this broader region, dragonflies are messengers. It derives, no doubt, from their unique ability to move in any of six directions and hover besides, to say nothing of their obvious links with the water that is both lifeblood and breath of these lands, and of the winds that animate these wide-open spaces. And I cannot help but feel that they have been telling us exactly what to expect for years now, but the colonial culture that holds authority and control in its deathgrip deliberately closes its eyes and ears and turns away from the message.
And now, we have a land whose life is being choked off by a twelve-hundred drought while everything upon it is ceded to the flames.
This day is expected to be a terrible one on the wildfire front: gale-force winds with even higher gusts, high relative temperatures, low humidity. Already the winds are rising, and they have shifted direction; instead of the usual southwest-to-northeast pattern that typically prevails at this time of year, these are driving in hard from the west/northwest, and will spread the front lines farther and in new directions. With low containment, it’s a recipe for disaster, and yet, there are lessons to be learned here. As Dragonfly teaches us, the key is finding the message in the winds.
This week’s Friday Feature consists of a pair of works (three separate pieces in all, a necklace and a pair of earrings), in the form and shape and spirit of this tiny but powerful being. They are not a matched set per se, and are thus sold separately, but they are clearly intended to be coordinating and complementary, and clearly share more than just a family resemblance. We begin with the larger of the two works, the necklace, a fitting tribute to Dragonfly’s delicate power. From its description in the Necklaces Gallery here on the site:
Messenger of Hope Necklace
In the dark of winter, in the depths of drought, our world needs a messenger of hope. Wings summons one in the shape of the small medicine spirits of summer, this one wrought in silver and stone, here to share the promise of warmer winds and a world reborn. It’s Dragonfly, in the shapes and shades of the flowing waters and flowering earth of summer, body, wings, and antennae all cut freehand from sterling silver and hand-stamped to capture the light. The stampwork, like the body it adorns, evokes a spirit of transformation, wings spread in Art Nouveau’s gracefully flowing lines, body tall and strong in the angular geometry of the Art Deco period to follow. Beneath the head rests an inverted stylized heart; above it, two arched antennae. The head itself is a bright banded cabochon of malachite, the shades of a lush and fertile earth. A small flared bail hand-stamped in a repeating motif of the Sacred Directions holds the pendant securely to a strand of beads consisting of brilliantly banded malachite cubes alternating with short segments of translucent blue-violet iolite, anchored at either end by tiny doughnut rondels of electric blue azurite in malachite. The pendant is 2-1/8″ long, including bail, by 3″ across at the widest point; the malachite cabochon is 1/4″ across; the bead strand is 20″ long (dimensions approximate). Necklace coordinates with Medicine Spirits earrings, here. Full view shown at top and at the link.
Sterling silver; malachite; iolite; azurite in malachite
$1,075 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Hope is hard come by these days, with our world erupting all around us in deadly conflagration and no relief in sight. Add, too, the drought itself, the other catastrophic effects of colonialism-driven climate change, and the fact that colonial governments have elected to allow a deadly pandemic to rage unchecked, constantly mutating and targeting the most vulnerable populations, among them our own, and it’s a recipe for disaster of a different sort: of apathy, of nihilism, of simply giving up.
But in the face of more than five hundred years’ worth of sustained campaigns of genocide that to this very day still seek our extermination, our peoples have never done that. We know where and how to look for hope, and how to act upon it.
We know, too, how to seek the healing properties of medicine, for the body, yes, but for mind and heart and spirit, too. And Dragonfly is seen, in some traditions, as holding healing properties, perhaps in part because of its association with water. But we know that medicine is much more than something to ingest, more than what we eat or drink, certainly more than any pill; we find it in prayer and in ceremony, in the making of offerings and the observance of timeless ways and wisdom.
The second work in this week’s Friday Feature consists of two matched pieces, a pair of earrings wrought in the form and shape of this messenger of healing. From their description in the Earrings Gallery:
Medicine Spirits Earrings
Medicine spirits fulfill their role as a messenger of hope, here to deliver healing to world wounded by darkness and drought. Wings invokes their shapes and shades with these Earrings, small incarnations of Dragonfly in the colors of water and light. Each wingéd messenger is cut freehand from sterling silver with articulated wings, body, and antennae; the stampwork is the flowing imagery of Art Nouveau wedded to the soaring geometry of the Art Deco period, a moment in art history as transitional and transformational as the dragonflies’ annual metamorphosis. The head of each small spirit is set with a single round cabochon of translucent blue-violet iolite, the shade of the waters atop the arc of the silver summer light. Each hangs from sterling silver wires. Earrings are 1-3/44″ long, excluding wires, by 2-1/8″ across at the widest point; iolite cabochons are 3/16″ across. Earrings coordinate with Messenger of Hope necklace, here.
Sterling silver; iolite
$725 + shipping, handling, and insurance
It’s hard to imagine, knowing of the fires only a few miles away, knowing too of the lack of water to keep the land alive, that hope is possible right now, never mind healing. But we know better, and we know where and how to find it.
The winds are howling outside the door now, bending branches double and holding a heavy haze of dust and smoke low across the land. But in front of the bent boughs of the juniper trees are the lilacs already in full green leaf; the red-tailed hawk circled high above the house repeatedly a few minutes ago, enjoying one last flight in the overhead blue before the winds became too much.
They have not given up. They know well how to listen, how to hear; they are adept at finding the message in the winds and acting upon it.
We can do no less.
~ Aji
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