Mandala Gardens

We've scored a free and infinite supply of woodchips from a local tree trimming business. They're literally dumping them at our front door (well, the garage door, specifically). Needless to say I'm thrilled, and I've been wheelbarrowing woodchips and spreading them on our pathways every free minute I've had in the last week.








Here I stand in the center of our spiral garden that Greg and I dug by hand eight years ago. Greg took this photo from the Catalpa tree after I finished woodchipping the spiral.











This photo includes the bench
and the Norway spruce, our
Christmas/Winter Solstice tree
we planted just before
digging the spiral, when Raynah was two years old.











On the other side of the bench
is the zodiac, the first garden
we dug. We dug the zodiac to
have twelve triangles, or
"houses," and I planted
each house with plants ruled
by the planets influencing
that house.









Since then we've revamped
the zodiac and it only has
eight triangles.The spirit
of the zodiac remains, but
now the garden is more
like a wagon-wheel. Here it
is with fresh woodchips,
although it's not quite finished.








Here's the star garden (next to the zodiac before it was woodchipped).
You can vaguely see that the
pathways create a star outlined by a circle to make a pentacle.
Right now the star garden is in
desperate need of woodchips. I've already shoveled through my latest load. I'm awaiting the next load, so
I can continue, and I'll post a photo when I finish.







Meanwhile, here's a dandelion puff, full of magic, holding infinite potential and possibility. I call dandelion puffs "seeds of maybes." I blow them into the wind with a puff of prayers on a breath of wishes.









P.S. Just after I finished
posting the dandelion puff and
the seeds of maybes--wishing
on woodchips-- there was
a knock on the door. It was
the guy with the truckload of
woodchips!!! Here they are,
golden and gorgeous.
And I'm going wheelbarrowing.