This tree has been growing from years from the fertile soil near Annandale, MN (Mnisota Makoce). Guided by the whisper of sunlight peeking into the only silo on the property, this tree now peaks out itself to greet the visitors to this land. It dares them to dream about what is possible with the gift of time and disciplined perseverance. This land, which is stewarded by a BIPOC cooperative I had the opportunity to help found, encouraged this tree just like it encouraged us to take the human ‘reins’. As an immigrant settler, I both love idioms and sayings and often get them wrong. Since I am practiced at getting them sometimes slightly wrong, I have attained a certain level of comfort with the hiccups in conversations. All to say, I mean that we gleefully took responsibility for the direction of the journey with this land.

We were able to take 36 acres off of the racialized, speculative market. I am calmed by this legacy. As I shift out of of my role as Founding Coop Member, I have gorgeous conversations with my nibblings about whether this is a land they can keep coming back to. ‘Yes beloveds, the seeds we planted are rich with love and strategy. And our mistakes, our heartaches? They are deep nourishment for the soil.

It’s a phrase that permeates the Warmer Season in response to ‘what are you doing this weekend?’. ‘Oh, I am going to friend’s cabin up North.’ For individuals of color who rarely got invited or experienced being the token ones, we have inherited and helped to give agency and access to a healing land with a diverse and powerful ecosystem ‘up North’ and close enough.

TW- talk of blood and death.

They sometimes come in threes.

Today, Dr. Boo and I awoke to three bloody paw prints. To a white-coated terrier, quietly licking her paws, her body doing it’s best to coagulate blood. I wonder if her rhythmic tongue and trance-like intention triggered just enough life force to encapsulate it, so as to stop bleeding from her fall. The evidence of her efforts was dramatic. The amount of blood was, to say the least, distracting. Throughout it all, Shelby as we call her— she, was quiet in her suffering. Every now and then Dr. Boo named a version of this fact. Out of the many notables in this situation, this one championed her.

We have three places we currently consider options for help with the health of our beloved four-leggeds. One elicits sparkles from our eyes, el segundo is unknown yet held with cautious optimism, y el tercero is a place we’ve been going to for years.  We follow our gut and like a maroon, red and white taco, we swoop white-bloody Shelby into the red Prius y to el doctor. I shut off my phone to bring down the electrical-magnetic interruptions. The dr. vet takes out a huge clot from the side of Shelby’s mouth and we all exhale to see if the bleeding will finally stop.

So the doctor vet gives us three options while helping Shelby’s life-force with a little pebble of a pill.
If the bleeding doesn’t stop, it might be time time and we would put her to sleep. The two and the three option are fuzzy but involve anesthesia and operations and blood transfusions, bright-lights, lots of money, and harsh, incessant noises.
So all I think is ‘please stop bleeding’. She worked so hard after that initial fall and ‘please body, now, overcome’.

And then, she does.

Now, well into the afternoon, and in a setting with increased padding, Shelby paces and rests boldly in this physical realm.

And so this blog begins.