House of the Mooning Dragon

I visited my dear friends, Sarah and Larry, this past week at the home in Mt. Shasta. The prevailing wind often turns their delightful Dragon to ‘moon’ the road. Today, she was enjoying the flowers with me.

Sarah is a gardener extraordinaire with the eye of a trained artist. Her gardens have inspired me for years. I call S. my “4-H Mentor” - she gives me advice on gardening and chickens. She’s also taught me to knit and bead, but those are stories for another day.




While my garden is bursting with tomatoes, Sarah’s is a riot of flowers: Poppies, Black-eyed Susans, various types sage and lavender, and lots of others whose names I can’t remember.



The Iris Labyrinth is a wonderful walking meditation. At a quiet, meditative pace it takes several minutes to complete the 11-levels to the Center and back to the Eastern entrance. When the Iris bloom it should make for a rather spectacular presentation, a colorful meditation, "Tout, touta, tout, tout, throughout and about. . . ."

Blessed Be,
Julie Epona

Sweet Taste of Summer

Yesterday I ate the first little, ripe tomatoes from the Yellow Pear bush - sweet, juicy, still warm from the sunshine.

WOW! Thank you, Goddess. What a delightful, sweet reward for all the work of gardening. I've never been able to grow anything prior to this. I'm very thankful I listened to Her prodding to plant a garden this year. The blessing of eating from the garden is more fulfilling than I had expected.

Today there are 3 more tomatoes ready for lunch.

Another diversion - Playing paperdolls online with the Yahoo Avatars. What fun! A great way to spend the afternoon when it's 100+ degrees outside.

Blessed Be,
Julie Epona

Garden Delights

The Garden is thriving! Each of the tomato plants is bursting with tiny, green fruit. I’m seeing canning lessons in my future.



The sunflowers tower over me with thick, green stalks. The eggplant is now showing buds below its thick, green foliage.

There have been a few “volunteers” in the garden: a white Petunia, one small Pink. The wild Sweet Peas have finished for the year. Still no buds on the Morning Glories.

Each evening I water. Each morning I look for what new surprise the Garden has for me.
My first harvest of Purple Bush Beans tasted divine, very sweet. The harvest was one, small handful, and I enjoyed it immensely.

Watering, watching, cultivating - She is giving me a sweet lesson in patience.

Blessed Be,
Julie Epona

Carpentry is a lot harder than it looks.

The Chicken Run is now built. I say that with great satisfaction and exhaustion.

My son, Aidan, and I built the frame for the run. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without him. While I painted all of the lumber with Copper Green, he dug the holes and set the posts.

I salvaged the lumber for the project from around the property. The posts were from a previous owner’s chicken coup, which had long-since been torn down. The 2x4s were purchased several years ago for a now long-forgotten project. Aidan and I soon learned how difficult it is to use old wood that has been stored improperly.

Aidan’s friend and bass player, Pooch, helped him string the wire and finish the run. It’s solid, just not exactly plumb. The Girls don’t seem to mind. In fact, they cluck quite happily each morning as I open their window to let them out for the day.


They now have nice nesting boxes and roosts in the coup. I’ve placed a wooden egg in each of the boxes to show them where to lay their eggs. Or, it may just be a good-luck charm. My Uncle John built the nesting boxes, while I played “carpenter’s assistant.” We had a great time working together.

John also installed the roosts and made a functioning gate for the run.



The Girls are 11 weeks old this week. Two of the chicks that were supposed to be Black Australorps appear to be Black Sex-Link hens instead. They have brick-red feathers on their breasts, the Australorps are all black. One of the Ameraucanas has a black-feathered head, the other’s is gold-brown. They are shorter and rounder than the other hens.

The Girls won’t begin laying until August or September, but I’m enjoying watching them grow and getting to know them.

Never Thirst,
Julie Epona