Gourd Drum Woman walks the land through the seasons, beating a rhythm on her gourd, speaking to the plants and animals with each pulsation. She travels by daylight, dawn, dusk, and night. Hers is the soft tread of a gentle mother in the middle of the night, the bold stride of a protective mother as the storm approaches, all the while accompanied by the cadence of her gourd drum. She winks at the chattering squirrels, whistles with the songbirds, trades secrets with the coyote. She strokes the velvet moss, gently bends the briars as she passes among the thicket's growth, blows a kiss to the first daffodil. Gourd Drum Woman, Hear Her Rhythm.
It's just another manic Monday here, to quote the Bangles. Well, wait a minute, make that a quote from the Chipmunks! Couldn't find the Bangles, maybe I got that part wrong? Go ahead, click on the link and let the Chipmunks get your week off to a fun start :)