It has been more than a decade since there have been initiations for youth in the hills of Vermont.

Now, beneath the dreaming, dozing Earth, there are–believe it or not–seeds that gaze up into starry roots, dreaming of a world of light and sound and air where they might display the fullness of their phylogenetic majesty–that playful and very much alive DNA that–yes–still lives. Waiting.. Waiting.. Waiting.. for the right time to bloom again. You, dear reader, may know something about magnificence that must wait. In the depth of this long dark, this nourishing story dark, a call, a voice. I who once sought, like the