Copyright © Jennifer L. Kautz 2020. All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © Return2TurtleIsland 2020. All Rights Reserved.
“The dreams setting was at the farm. My husband and I were standing in the kitchen looking out over the land. The farmhouse looks over the large garden, then a large pasture, then a creek that meanders through the property. Past the creek is a grove of trees and then more wild meadow. In the dream I saw two flying brachiosaurus landing just past the grove. They were carrying a turtle in their mouths. I was alarmed in the dream. I remember feeling an intense wave of power, and it had arrived on the farm. The next day I walked out to the area where the dinosaurs had landed in the dream, and the tall meadow grass lay flattened. The area was the site of an old, unused medicine wheel and a garden sculpture the grandkids and I made with the theme Time.” Jennifer Kautz
May “the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the turtle is heard in our land.” Song of Solomon 2:12, KJV.
Return to Turtle Island
They call her Flame, for the passion of her heart is worn freely for all the world to see. Her hair is black with a large strand of strawberry red hair, an anomoly at birth. This birthmark was definetly a sign of the fire born inside her soul. Her excitement for the sacredness of life is not welcomed in a world that no longer sees. Flame sees, and she tries to tell others, but no one will listen. She lives on a small farm with her Grandfather and her dog, Shiloh. Her Grandfather is wise and stoic and listens to the joys of Flames heart. It is here that the story begins. One night, Flame dreams that she and Grandfather are watching the sunset over the farm and they witness the arrival of Mother Turtle and her guardian Brachiosaurus landing behind the grove. The farm would never be the same.
The farmhouse looks over a large garden, then a large pasture, then a creek that meanders through the property. Past the creek is a grove of trees and then more wild meadow. After Flame dreams of the arrival of two flying brachiosauruses with a Turtle in their mouths, she wakes to an intense feeling of primal energy. The next day Flame walks out to the area where the dinosaurs had landed in the dream, and the tall meadow grass lay flattened. The area was the site of an old, unused medicine wheel and a garden sculpture that she made with her friends Ethan and Emma one summer with the theme Time.
“You must retell the story. Our story is lost in this modern world of yours. People have forgotten the many images, myths and stories of the birthing of the world and where these stories and images reside. We are still living presences that ask for your witness and honor. For that which came before still lives through the thread of life’s weaving and the patterns of creation. I am just one symbol and image that seeks to be a part of the imagination and history of the earth. That which one honors is that which sustains and nourishes.”
"She will arrive early evening by the Pale Sky Painted ~ and The Silent Faint Breeze~ Pastel Nightfall Soothing her leaves ~ Dreams hover amidst The ribboned night sky ~ Songbirds caress Moon Butter and Rye~ Garden and Pasture Covered for Sleep~ Rhythm and Melody below soil deep ~No Truer moment to where we belong ~Moment and memory forever a song……
It was time to wait in the pasture with the rest of the feathers and fur on the farm. Flame began lighting candles on the table and arranging the sunflowers, zinnias and the many herbs grown on the farm. It was all that Flame could do to calm her racing heart. Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe. The ground shook. Then shook again. The dinosaurs approached through the grove, their heads above the trees, looking stoic and elegant. They let their wings flail and let out a large roar. Here ye!! Here ye!! for the Mother of the Land has Come!! The brachiosauruses flapped their wings and bowed and in unison all the creatures in the pasture bowed. More thunderous steps and the ground shook again. Flame is terrified and Shiloh is hiding underneath Flame’s legs, peaking through. Out of the mist, Mother Turtle appears. She arrives wearing a crown of figs.
It was an autumn night~The sky cascading in pink moonshine ~A Fleeting day of clouds and veils~ A gift to behold was arriving on a small Midwest farm, ~Called by the land of myth and image ~Wise was the grandfather and his seedling Flame, fire of passion and mane ~ Life is always listening.