By Diane Duckworth The Woodland Apothecary After weeks of rain, the woods behind my home offered a simple but profound reminder this morning, healing does not arrive in grand gestures. Sometimes it arrives with a song. It greets us and rejoices in our presence. It arrives in clearing skies and birdsong, in mud that learns again to hold its shape. Today’s apothecary lesson is about listening, and receiving the medicine that is already here. Morning Medicine I was awakened at

By Diane Duckworth The Contradiction In a land of cross and flag Where prophets speak through cable news There grows a garden of contradictions Loud as trumpets, quiet as graves Here, the unborn child is named a miracle Yet the doctor is called an enemy Where life is sacred in the womb And strangely cheaper once they breathe Here, salvation is skyward Stored in the promises of second comings The kingdom is always elsewhere Never in rivers, Or forests, Or the trembling hands o

Winter’s Reward: Learning the Land Close to Home By Diane Duckworth The Woodland Apothecary “My observation of the forest has held up a mirror to my own nature.”   David George Haskell It’s the time of year when the cold walls us in. When warm cups of tea or cocoa feel more inviting than warm mittens and winter’s cold embrace. Stepping outside can require a bit of bravery. Once I am out, it feels wonderful. But getting out that door can be a challenge. Lately, the world has f