The winter solstice is here, bringing with it the first edition of Letters from the Hill.
 

This is the hill's first full season as Little Whiskers, and a lot has happened these past few months! I learned how to prepare ashes so they don't harm the land, and nearly 650 pets now rest here. I honored my own boy, saw my first bobcat in the wild (pretty awe-inspiring moment), and finally found something I could do with all these rocks.

I carried out the first scatterings of ashes this season and had to learn a lot to get ready for that.

 

You might picture ashes drifting into a perfect breeze and disappearing into the land. In reality, they are dense, a little oily, and very alkaline. If you scatter them on the ground as they are, they can be hard on the soil and the plants that live there.

 

So I got curious and did my homework. I worked with experts to learn how to care for ashes in a way that honors both the pets and the land that receives them.

 

I mix ashes into soil, along with a few natural amendments like gypsum to buffer the salts, fallen leaves from the hill, and a bit of garden charcoal. This mixture rests for a few weeks so nature can do its work, making the ashes safe for the plants and soil here.

 

When it's ready, that's what goes back to the hillside, spreading the mixture into the contours of the land so it can slowly integrate with the native soil and plants over time.

 

After each scattering, I hold a small ritual at the top of the hill. I hang a handmade keepsake on the Memory Tree, the big oak that overlooks everything, honoring the many tiny lives that now rest here.

The Memory Tree isn't only for the pets who rest on this land. It's for anyone who wants to pay tribute to their own pet and honor the love and life they shared together.
 

The first keepsake I made and hung was in honor of my own soul dog, Bauer. He doesn't rest here, but he rests in my heart, and I wanted him with me in some small way while I care for others.
 

Every time I walk up the hill, I look at his keepsake and give it a touch.
 

I look forward to adding more names and stories to those branches, and I will share more about that as I do so.

This fall I also started a project that (I'm pretty sure) will take me years to finish: a rock wall.

 

There are rocks on this property. Like, ev-er-y-where. So instead of fighting them, I decided to give them a job.

 

I load them up into my tractor bucket, drive them over to the worn coyote path that leads from the top of the hill down to the Memory Tree, and then place them one at a time.

 

The wall gets a little longer and a little higher with each visit, which is oddly satisfying (and speaks to the level of excitement in my life :).

 

I've been thinking about painting pets' names on some of the rocks. In that way, the wall holds stories just like the tree. If you would like your pet's name on one of them, send me a note and I'll make it happen.

Reflecting back, this season has mostly been about learning how to care for the land as carefully as I care for the tiny lives remembered here. It feels fitting for winter: introspective work, tending to roots and soil, and the simple task of stacking rocks reminding me of the importance of balance, which is something I need more of.
 

The land gives me a reason to step away from the computer and get outside. In caring for this place and the pets who rest here, I'm also caring for myself in ways I wouldn't always make time for otherwise.
 

For now, I am grateful for this season of tending and learning. I don't know about you, but I am very ready for the return of longer days, and I will see you again when the season next turns.