Tonight's moon is the strawberry moon, and a search for its symbolism fittingly revealed little philosophy and a great number of events. Who wants to be inside reading with a moon like this? Action appears to be the theme of this June moon.

The strawberry moon is relatively straight forward, being the time of the strawberry harvest. It is a time of rapid growth and fleeting fruit. Since the last Strawberry moon, I have witnessed the rapid growth of a newborn baby to a toddler full of life, light, and attitude. I have watched a shy and hesitant toddler bloom into an articulate and engaging little boy. I have witnessed Rob grow as a musician, as a husband, and as a father. I have experienced an insane amount of change, transforming and transplanting almost everything in my life. And through all this, I have experienced a challenging stretch of personal growth, finding unknown inner strength, my breaking point, my voice, and a few more steps on the patch toward being a whole person.

Yet all this change seems haphazard, and successful navigation of it outside my control, Like the frenzied growth of a strawberry patch. Only by happenstance have I arrived here intact and a better version of Jade.

One source I could find pointed to a Coyote mother as teacher and anchor through the Strawberry moon's time of change, and I couldn't help but wonder who my Coyote mother is. In last year's Strawberry moon, it was Nettie. While I waited for Sophia's arrival, a change that already manifested for me and was about to, unbeknownst to all of us, rocket our family into a year of nothing BUT change, Nettie moved me to act. She helped move me to the ocean, to the field, to my kitchen, and to the Goddess. It was in those moments of simple action that I was able to harness and experience the change that swirled around me.

In the ocean, I drew Sophia's name on the beach and let her know that I was ready for her. I conquered my fear of early labor and allowed myself to visit the sea, miles from my midwife. We collected sand and water and said our thanks at the frothy hem of the Goddess's skirt.

In the field I was moved to laugh, to eat, to satisfy and manifest my vision for Sophia's pregnancy. I was moved to embrace my round body's strength and desire and take pleasure in the earth that had grown such a beautiful and healthy baby.

In my kitchen I was moved to capture that fleeting perfection, to find a natural stasis that would allow me access back to that field after the moment had passed. In my kitchen I connected that moment in my life with that of many women before, harvesting the peace and bounty of one time for the unknown to come.

And with Nettie's help, her calm presence and stability with the one thing that scared me most about going into labor, I was able to give myself wholly to the experience of birth, communing with the Goddess and finding that well of strength it took to move Sophia into this world.

So I take that lesson of action in this Strawberry moon and wonder where it will manifest. So many changes have found us in the last year, and I know there are more waiting for us. Dylan has an incredible big year ahead, with a world around him expanding at a pace none of us can fully comprehend. Sophia has ahead of her the patch Dylan took last year, but filtered through her wind-in-the-face personality. For me, I don't know. For now I'm just tending my home, my family and my garden, enjoying the moment of summer bounty.

Last week we had a heck of a wind storm, and when I got up in the morning I noticed that the makeshift gate for the chicken coop had blown down. The girls, obviously pleased by this, were scratching around the yard, looking for some tender 6am bugs. (early bird, you know....)

Already dressed for work, I stepped into the backyard and rounded up the ladies, careful to keep the hem of my slacks out of the garden dirt. With the girls secured back in their run, I returned to the kitchen to finish getting my coffee.

While I puttered around the kitchen, I thought about how silly a pre-work chore chicken catching is, and just how much I like our "farm" chores around the yard. There is something very right about caring for the animals and plants as the sun rises, slow and intentional sustaining of the things that sustain us. I wandered through my thoughts for a bit, and found myself slowing down and enjoying my morning routine. Which is quite an impressive thing at quarter of 6 on a Wednesday.

It kind of made me sad- first, for the speed that the rest of my day would take once I left my kitchen and started toward work; second, for the years I was in such a hurry to get somewhere or be someone that I would have been irritated, not amused, by such a humble morning space. It's odd, really, how fast we expect life to move, and how much we feel we don't have time to do simple things. How much time would it take before we had time to spare?

We have microwaves, dishwashers, clothes dryers, and robot vaccum cleaners, tools to do things faster and unsupervised, to remove ourselves from the mundane- to free us to other things. But what other things, though? What are we doing with that time?

My morning chasing chickens, my afternoons hanging laundry, and our evenings tending the garden remind me that the mundane is not something to categorically avoid. The mundane, when embraced, is often the only part of my day that replenishes my perspective, connecting me to the people and world around me. Sometimes, in this mean and hurried world, shooing chickens back into their house is just what I need to move everything else into its place.