A Seed Woman Story

I remember the moment that I became fascinated with seeds. It was one bright morning in my grandmother’s kitchen when I was 6 years old. My grand-aunt (my grandmother’s sister) who was visiting from Australia was browsing through gran’s collection of spices when she discovered a bottle of seeds (I think they were coriander, although I can’t remember for sure) in the spice rack. In her unassuming wisdom she decided to introduce me to the joys of planting herbs from seed.

We went outside, filled a small container with dark loamy soil and then planted and watered the seeds. We checked on them in the mornings to see if there was any progress. For the first three days, the soil was still. There were no signs of life. Then, on the fourth day, tiny little leaves had pierced their way through the sand. It was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen at the time.

Throughout that school holiday, I tended to them, returning each day to water and watch them. I concluded then that plants don’t grow when you’re watching. I was spellbound by how much transpired when I wasn’t looking. It seemed like the magic only happened at night when the stars were high and dark air rested on the soil. I remember my grandfather trying to explain something about the intelligence inside the seed telling it to grow – an essence within it that held all the knowledge of who it was and what it was supposed to do. Too young to fully understand, his words went completely over my head. But with time, the more I grew things, the more I understood what he meant.

Four weeks later, when my holiday was over and I’d returned home to my parents at the coast, the magic of seeds was forever in my heart. Looking back, it explains a lot about the way I am:

Like why I always tried to grow things when I was young: A little pot on my bedroom window sill. A planter box on the veranda. A few scattered seeds in a flower bed. My dad often made me weed the garden as punishment. I hated it so much. However, planting seeds and coaxing them out of the earth and into life was something so precious.

And also why I’ve always carried some seeds with me to plant wherever I went or to offer as gifts to people. At the end of our final year at university when my then boyfriend (now husband) took me to Zimbabwe to meet his family, I took basil seeds for his mother. We planted them in the garden where they flourished beautifully. Sometimes I feel that they were symbolic of the incredible relationship that I’ve cultivated with my mother-in-law from that moment onwards.

And why when I graduated from university and moved from a small country town to the city in search of work, I basically brought two things with me – my clothes and a pack of mixed herb and edible flower seeds. I claimed a patch in my aunt’s neglected garden and for the year that I lived with her, I nurtured that piece of earth and the wonderful things that I grew from it.

So in a way, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that when a simple question came my way a week or two ago – “What happens to the dreams that you let die?” – it immediately sparked a story. A very short story about a seed woman who lost her dreams in the snow and finds her way back to them.

Naturally, I treasure this story just as much as I do seeds. And because I believe that stories are created to be shared, I’ve decided to share this rough piece with you in tomorrow’s blog post. I have no real expectations other than to share the things in my heart and little bits of inspiration.

Until then, thank you for your presence here and have a blessed and beautiful day.

My grandmother’s garden

Wind Whipped Stories and Friday Ocean Vibes

They’d said that her people came from the desert, that they were descendants of the ancient nomadic tribes who once roamed its red sandy dunes, but she knew differently. In her heart she knew that her bloodline was born from the ocean’s womb, a long line of women of the water. That dawn, as the morning star began to fade in the light of the rising sun, she walked through her garden on the rocky shore and down to the water’s edge. There, the placid cove waves greeted her with a lapping sound as it gently kissed her feet, shied away and then returned to kiss her once more…

The beginning of new story I think?

It had been so long since I’d written fiction. But for a few months now, words have been stirring within and turning themselves into stories. So I’ve been writing little bits about terracotta babies, a lonely girl restoring her late mother’s garden and now a crone woman standing at the edge of the sea. I don’t know if these stories will ever go anywhere. For now, I am content with the fact that there is joy in the writing and that’s all that matters.

I’m sure this latest bit of inspiration comes from the echoes of ocean wind still locked in my heart, residue of my trip to the sea. It seems to be breathing its untold tales to life inside me. So, I thought I’d share some pictures from my recent visit at the coast and send some healing ocean vibes your way for Friday inspiration.

Have a Happy Friday!













Wild Essence Book is here!

There are so many feelings stirring within me right now. Excitement, joy, anxiety, gratitude…but mostly gratitude.

Why?  Because the day has arrived!

After months of sweat and toil, months of writing, editing and getting to the nitty-gritty of the publishing process, my book, Wild Essence, is now published and available for purchase.

I am so grateful to be able to share the contents of my heart with you through these pages. Wild Essence is a book about connecting with your true self, the wild and beautiful essence alive within you and releasing what keeps your wild heart domesticated. It’s a spiritual journey about liberating and re-wilding your soul to return to that natural sense of personal peace and freedom.

Since I find so much inspiration and healing from Mother Earth, the book also includes intricately woven threads of wild whispers, insights and analogies from Nature.

As I shared in a blog post a last week, Wild Essence my love letter to the women of the world – women like me – whose souls have been broken in to submission to remind them that they are essentially wild creatures of profound beauty who are meant to be and express all of who they are, not lurk in the shadows.

Wild Essence is available for purchase at Balboa Press, Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.

wild essence cover

Return to the peace and freedom of your inner wilderness!

With Love

Jodi Sky