I’m so proud of my mom Gwendolyn Endicott who was honored with the Ferdun Conservation Award on Saturday!

This is the very beginning of her speech. The rest can be seen on YouTube. (Sorry mom but you were so amazing I had to share).

The Ferndun Conservation Award commemorates the steady, committed and visionary work of Gareth and Georgenne Ferdun, two of the founders of Lower Nehalem Com…
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The forest has turned a psychedelic green– the closest I can come in naming it is Chartreuse, but it glows so it almost looks gold.   For a moment I think there is something wrong with my eyes. But no, it is the forest coming back to life.  Along the trail, a hill of trilliums pushes through the moss. Today they have opened.  They are the sacred Lily of this forest, glowing white, tri-petaled, beloved of the goddess.

Today, as the forest glows around me, I know that Kore, the World Soul, has once more returned, and we are in a new Season of growth. I am grateful to see another Spring.  My heart gladdens as old friends reappear: skunk cabbage, colts foot, oxalis, huckleberry, trillium…A miracle of rebirth everywhere, a forest coming alive again after a winter down under.

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She crawled out of the cage in the back of the rescue van, put her paws down cautiously, her tail and rear tucked under. They had found her wandering loose in Walla Walla and took her to the pound. Her person didn’t come for her. Then they did an operation and took part of her away.  Susan found her and took her to a pack of orphan dogs, but she had to stay by herself because she was still sore.  She knew the pack was called “Moon Song” and that it was ok to sing.  She sang her sorrow in mournful howls night after night.

And now here she was stepping into a forest. At first she was tentative, looking around, nose in the air recording the myriad scents—rodents, squirrels, deer, coyote, bear…Then a wildness took her and she wanted to run—leaping and pulling on the leash with a woman named Gwendolyn hanging on. Almost immediately she met a handsome white dog who told her he was a Jindo, National Dog of South Korea, and King of this place.

Then ensued a dialogue. He said: “You can visit but not stay.”  She said: “I am staying. “

He said: “You are not. My house, my person, my bone.” She said: “My home too. Move over.”

He said: “No. my house, my person, my bone.”

It was tooth and nail for awhile. She had to have stitches in her eyebrow. Gwendolyn would throw her in one room and the King in another, and collapse on the couch, praying— I will give it two weeks, she thought, before I make the 8 hour drive to Eastern Washington Husky Rescue. The thing was, they were equals, both dominant, neither submissive.  It has been 4 years now.  Occasionally, they still snap and argue but mostly because they like the spark.  She has found that she is Queen.  As she saunters by the Jindo, you can almost hear her say “I live here!”  And once in a while, she surprises him with a kiss.


dreya kissing snow

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Vahu, the wind, blew fiercely last night—setting the trees to dancing in a gusto of whirling and roar. Just breathe, I tell myself, and let go. Still, I put a golden dome around the house, so vulnerable in the midst of it all. Snowfire lets me know he thinks he will sleep in the stairwell, instead of by the door. Dreya, who thinks she is invulnerable stretches out on the floor. Then it pours, turning driveway to creek and gutters to waterfall.  Remember there are places where they pray for rain, I remind myself.  I try to sleep in spite of the clamor, tensed to hear a boom and a crash.  Sometime before dawn, I awake to the silence. The forest is calm.  We walk in the early morning light. The forest is not flattened, but stands regal and proud.  I am surprised to see the driveway still there. The fallen trees I had been dreaming about all night are nowhere in sight.  Except for the creek’s roar, it is hard to tell that a tempest passed through.

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Thursday, February 2, 12-2

At Wanderland Rainforest Iseum


Under the blanket of Winter, beneath the cold and the dark, Earth holds within Her the new seeds of growth. Like the seed, we, too, begin to awaken; we become aware that within us are all future possibilities, all growth, all knowing. The mid-winter Holy Day of Imbolc celebrates the time when darkness begins to recede and there is a bursting forth of new life. As the light grows, so does the stirring within us — who, what, and how will we Become? What shadows need illumination within us? What desire needs a bit more light to be seen clearly? What quality in us has dimmed and needs brightening? Now is the time to shed the Dark, and renew our inner flame.

There is no charge, but donations toward the maintenance of the forest sanctuary are greatly appreciated. The ceremony begins at noon. Please come early rather than late.  Questions: contact Gwendolyn@nehalemtel.net or 503-368-6389 for more information on Wanderland Rainforest Iseum see Wanderlandrainforest.org

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