Spring cleaning doesn’t only pertain to the house anymore. Combining a cleansing of the home with body, mind and spirit evaluation is a great bonus.

Living near a lake in the woods as a child, my mother would gather up her tools, which consisted of a pickaxe and small shovel, which belonged to her and her alone. You didn’t mess with Mama’s digging gear. Poking the sharp edges into a brown gunny sack use for collecting numerous plants, bulbs and pretty rocks she couldn’t resist to haul home, I knew it was time for a hike. Mom loved the outdoors and the outdoors loved her. "Hurry," she would sing, "it’s time to dig sassafras." Excitedly I grabbed my jacket and ran out the back door of the cabin trying to catch up to her "purpose pace." I would skip quickly, catching up with the ‘woman of the woods.’ I moved so fast, I would be 20 feet away from the frame house when the wooden screen door made a muffled bam-bam as it bounced back into place, enclosing the opening once again.

Jamming my hands deep into the pockets of my corduroy coat, protecting them from the cool spring morning, I jumped, skipped and whistled a tune, as mother sang to the spring air. Her happy alto voice echoed across the hills. She knew every song that came over the radio, and if she couldn’t remember the words to a song, she added better ones that the song writer would have been proud of!

Our two dogs trotted along, one in front and one in back. Holding their heads high, they were on guard protecting us from harm’s way. Wild kitty cats peeked through the bushes rushing alongside, caught up in the adventure. Daddy would sometimes catch her sneaking scraps of food to these little varmints and with bits of food stuck to her fingers, her innocent face declared she had not given those wild creatures any such thing. He glanced at me sideways to see if I would give away any clues to her guilt. I looked back with a blank expression as he searched my face for the truth. I stayed clear of tattling, as my brother on occasion showed me what happened to snitches! Not getting any response from little ole me, he winked a quick, okay, you’re off the hook, type of recognition. A sideways smile sealed the deal. It was our secret; he knew exactly what Mom had been up to!

She was a woman of strength when it came to creatures, EXCEPT snakes. If I saw them first, I scampered ahead fast and shooed them away from her view. No snake was a good snake in her opinion, and between her hoe, pickaxe or shovel, they didn’t stand a chance. Her screams penetrated the forest, and her feet moved so fast up and down they blurred. It was amazing to watch, as her voice hit a high warrior’s pitch and the weapon of choice chased the poor creature through the oak trees. Leftover fall leaves flew in all directions and acorn shells popped under her boat shoes sounding very much like firecrackers exploding on the Fourth of July. It was exciting when Mama was exploring the wild and I was her helper.

Along the way we picked young spring greens to cook with spinach. Later in the day poke and yellow dock leaves lined the bottom of the gunny sack, ready to wash and cook. Learning the right combination of herbs and pot greens "cleaned you out" she explained. "My mother and sister taught me what is needed for spring cleaning your body after a long winter. Winter foods need to be flushed out with sassafras tea roots, to build your blood to grow strong," she repeated every year.

Coming to a halt under a few spindly saplings, we took a rest break. A big red apple came out of her hidden pocket. Mama’s pretty face smiled as she took the first big bite, exposing the juicy white inside, sweet tart ‘meat’ of the treat, and then handing the apple over to me for the next crunchy bite. With her audience of creatures wild and tame, she announced, "Here we are!" The grove and little greens trees felt happy as she searched for the perfect sapling to take some roots for tea. Selecting the harvest tree, her tools came out of the old sack. "Stand back," she warned. We all knew to obey quickly, as the pickaxe and shovel dug deeply into the earth. Nature and mother were a team and understood each other.

As the deep earth revealed its treasure, "See?" The dogs and I leaned over into the hole, all three noses touching and peering into the small, dark cave at once. The sweet, pungent aroma lifted from the soil. This is how spring smells, I thought. New, pungent and sweet. Experienced hands divided the tangled roots, and came up with enough of the blood-thinning plant to make plenty of the spicy reddish-pink tea. "Okay," she said. "Fill the hole back in with dirt and let the roots go back to sleep."

Behind me I heard her utter a prayer of happiness, but as with all of her prayers, it ended in the same plea. "Please make my husband go to church with me." Although they met in church, my father felt a building called a church was way too small for his God. Daddy would explain to me, or the wind, as we flew in his airplane or zoomed across the lake in his speedboat, "God is out here, and everywhere, not cramped up in a building where you can’t breathe." When he was young, he saw mother enter a church with her family from across the street at his cousin’s front porch.

With three other sisters and four brothers, he followed this beautiful girl into the sanctuary and fell in love. But shortly after he won her heart, he preferred to find his God in everything. This was the only disappointment my mother carried with her, that he didn’t care to sit the three hours a week on a hard bench and listen to a preacher.

With her prayers behind us, we headed for home. She turned briefly and broke off a twig, pulled back the young bark, "here, chew on the end." As my teeth chomped on the slick white stick, it frayed into a brush. "Now you have an Indian toothbrush. Brush your teeth," she commanded.

The spring hike was a success. We marched back toward the cabin, dogs in the lead and the kitty cats pouncing through the sunlit woods. Singing filled the air and adventure was around every nook and cranny of the Cherokee hunting ground. We had found our cures for what ailed us. Feng Shui of the body was about to begin.

Upcoming Class

Feng Shui — Mapping Your Home

Saturday, April 27, 10 a.m. — 12 noon

$48; with booklet $55

Caroline Arts & Feng Shui Shoppe

129 First Street, Suite K

Benicia

Hours: 1 — 5 p.m. daily, closed Mondays

For Feng Shui consultations or class enrollment, call (707) 748-1127)