When Petunia awakens the following morning, it takes her a while to remember where she is sleeping, she had been in a very deep, restful place. But as soon as the scene from the previous evening comes back to her, all the energy of wonder, of gratefulness, of eagerness, and wow, I am alive in the Earthwalk in a very special adventure and this is my first ever time camping out in the country dawn floods into her. That deserves a few breaths.

Re-centered in the present moment, Petunia becomes aware of the great still silence around her, the coolness and a mild dew on her sleeping bag inside the tent. Outside sports a much heavier dew. She can hear drips from the branches of the large trees she is camped under. Petunia sits up with her head at the roof of the small, cozy tent, pulls on her pants, jacket, socks and shoes and heads for the bushes. Prof Bolo did have an outhouse brought in for their use, but the bushes are closer and plentiful enough.

There is just enough light to make out the path that leads to the spring fed pool. Prof Bolo is there, ahead of her, a good hour before grasshopper observation time. He has just finished washing. He has obviously dunked his whole head in the ice cold water; his head is dripping and there are goose bumps all over him. He rubs his head vigorously with a small towel.

“Your turn Petunia. I'll go into the kitchen and put some water on to boil. Do you drink coffee, tea or hot chocolate? After that I always do a sitting meditation. Do you meditate? Anyways, you're welcome to join me.”

“Coffee sounds good, black is fine and yes, I was going to sit so I'll happily join you.” Petunia replies before squatting by the pool and gingerly dipping her fingers into the water and carefully applying small dabs of cold water to her yet very relaxed face, acclimatising it. As she is reaching in to scoop a more substantial handful, she hears a cough and a chuckle above her head and sees another set of cupped hand reaching for water in the other side of the pool. As Petunia rocks back on her heels, she recognizes Crewman through dripping water wet eyes.

She grins at him in wonder and asks, “What are you doing here, at this hour?”

“Oh, I like to get up to meditate with Prof Bolo.”

Petunia continues to grin incredulously.

“Oh, I'll go back to bed after that and let you and Bolo carry on to film the grasshoppers or whatever it is you are doing. But he's pretty amazing, don't you think? I mean, what other biology prof do you know who plays mandolin? How he got into the scene, last night; he didn't blink an eye when that guardian spirit guy knew his question before Bolo even asked it. And he didn't resist accepting that the whole spirit communication thing was all happening. He's been swimming against the current for so long; you are like a dream come true for him. See you in the coffee tent.”

Crewman does a little bow to her, puts his hat over now much flatter dripping hair and ambles off for his coffee. Petunia centers herself in her breathing and splashes another handful of spring fresh water on her face. She thinks, this is all so amazing, like a dream. Here I am, splashing water on my face by starlight, well the sky is getting light with the early dawn. I can see the shapes of things, but not much colour yet. I am surrounded by large old trees with active spirits. Petunia deepens her inner perception until she is resonating with the earth and all its beings that feel so present, so alive.

The clap of the outhouse door rouses Petunia from her reverie. She gets up slowly and heads on along the path to join Crewman and Prof Bolo in the food tent. They sit companionably around the table, warming their hands on their steaming mugs.

“Well, Petunia, I must confess that I haven't stopped thinking about last night. That is the most hopeful experience that I have had in a long time.” Prof Bolo looks very serious. “However, can you even imagine what is involved in bringing the native bird populations back? To recreate nesting areas and ensure non-toxic food means letting larger areas of land go wild, planting more trees. Whose pocket book is going to pay for this? But it feels so right in my gut. I've been out in nature all my life. I've watched so many gross and out of balance phenomena and heard so much about control, control, win, win, get rid of, what a nuisance. It is so refreshing to think about co-operating, taking responsibility for one another, allowing all species to co-exist. The grasshopper spirit is ashamed. It is the human people who should be ashamed of being so disruptive to natural cycles and balances. And sigh. I've been aware of the issue of soil health but have been ignoring it. Yes, it's time to open that can of worms, so to speak, and advocate to bring the soil back to life, even if it is yet another report that gets filed in some backroom archive. In the end, I have to be able to live with myself and my conscience. What anybody else does is their job and their responsibility.” Prof Bolo grins ruefully and Petunia can see that he is enjoying the challenge of integrating the experience he had last night with his life and understanding.

“I've been babbling on. Is there anything either of you would like to say before we head out for our meditation?”

“Just that this is all quite new and magical to me, as well. Thanks for bringing me.”

“Don't worry, you're both doing just fine!” Crewman says as he sends them some comforting, reassuring energy. He gets up and gathers the empty coffee mugs and unzips the tent door. Prof Bolo puts his hand over Petunia's and she feels the energy flowing between them like a warm current. They gaze into each others eyes for a timeless moment, feeling at one, two individual personalities united in a sense of purpose.

Their focus is interrupted by Crewman's voice as he greets Artema, who it seems is yet another meditator. Prof Bolo gives Petunia's hand one last squeeze and gets up to lead the group. Petunia makes up the rear of the small procession that heads to a grassy rise in the land overlooking the wheat fields. Dots of household buildings with their windbreak trees and the narrow wild areas along creek beds are the only breaks in the miles and miles of wheat fields.

Petunia settles in to sit in the early morning light. She is immediately aware of the great stillness of the land about her and the damp coolness of the ground coming up through her pants. She centers her breath and then focuses in her compassion practice. She breathes compassion on herself sitting here, compassion on the land and its farmers, compassion on the grasshoppers, compassion on the ashamed Grandmother Grasshopper Spirit. How difficult it must be for her to watch so much human angst and hostility directed at her brood, who are only a mirror for human interaction with the nature of this planet. The grasshoppers are not the cause. Rather they are the instrument, a clue and teaching ally.

Refocusing on her breath, Petunia now turns her awareness to her inner perception. Focusing in the third eye center, Petunia softens her gaze and lifts it to look out over the fields. There is no grasshopper activity in this early morning coolness. As Petunia sits and breathes, she sees the the large fields start to split up into sections with different plants growing. Orchards appear and fields for animals, plantings of beets and cabbages and turnips. The harvest possibilities are diversifying, there is more intense human involvement, more animals like horses, chickens, goats and cows. Native birds start to proliferate as they come back to feed off the wild berries and wildflower seeds that grow on the new unfarmed areas. Proud, even fields of wheat yet cover a significant portion of the land and Petunia chuckles at the contrast of the wheat in her vision with the miserable devastated plants on the fields before her. In her vision, she sees the black and white stripe on the back of skunk as he patrols the fields for rodents. Yes, skunk digs for grasshopper eggs too, when he can get the scent of them. They are a much coveted delicacy among the winged and four or more legged peoples.

* * * * * * *

Journal notes.

Back home for a breather. Then it's off to fetch Crowoman. She responded to our e-mail and if we drive her, the crows will gather on the field and take care of the grasshoppers. This I have to see. Kaylar and Crewman are the film crew. Prof Bolo looks as if he is walking on air.

I've been noticing the crows. They caw when they see me coming and they seem to be following me every where I go. I wonder if they are specifically aware of me?

* * * * * * *

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