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Sounds From Super Moon Drum Circle

Leslie Kolovich Producer/Host of SUP Radio Show

Leslie Kolovich, producer/host of SUP Radio Show

Hey there I’m Leslie Kolovich enjoy this short audio clip of our Healing Drum Circle on the beach during the Super Moon Eclipse September 27. 2015.

It was uncertain if we would even get a glimpse of this moon event as forecasters called for rain and clouds coming in from a tropical disturbance off shore. We watched the weather channel as the percentages of rain kept changing for our start time. By 4:00 there was only a 15% chance of rain, the decision was made, to the beach we would go.  Twenty people showed up for this drum circle all eager to feel the possibilities of what this event could bring. The rhythm of the Gulf combined with our drumming set the stage for the entrance of this super moon. We chanted, we listened, we had our feet in the sand, it was a beautiful night. The moon gave us only a handful of peeks holding our curiosity and faith. At the end of a 3 hour session all but 4 drummers had left, the beach was quiet with the sound of just a single drum.  The moon who seemed quite comfortable nestled in the clouds, must have been pleased, because it was as if she commanded the clouds to separate for us to see her in the powerful position of full eclipse! I’ve heard from some of the drummers who left that they also saw that moment on their way home.

Peace, Love and Drumming~Leslie

Our Drum Circle meets every 2nd Thursday of the Month 6-8pm central time.

The Power Of Words And Music

Leslie Kolovich Producer/Host of SUP Radio Show

Leslie Kolovich, producer/host of SUP Radio Show

Soulful Uplifting People with Leslie Kolovich






Enjoy the podcast now:


Today’s podcast I share my thoughts of the power of words in the music we listen to and sing along with. I was inspired by the video of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama and Michael Franti a singer-songwriter, philanthropist and humanitarian. The Dalai Lama reminded Michael to continue to send joyfulness, inspiration, love and affection with words out for the world. This sparked in me an understanding of responsibility and opportunity to send good energy into the collective consciousness of the world with the words I say, sing or listen to.

Live a purposeful life, love it with all your heart and remember love, peace and compassion is always something the world needs more of.

Leslie Kolovich~

One Minute Visual Meditation

Soulful Uplifting People with Leslie Kolovich

A beautiful friend gifted me a incense box with a scent she said I must try. It’s called Nag Champa. I placed her gifts to me on my table as I was about to start my morning quiet time. I lit the incense turned away from it and was immediately called back to it through spirit. The smoke rising from it seemed to be little energy spirits that were so happy to be releasing into my space. I noticed my air-conditioning was not blowing at that time either, which is odd on these extremely hot summer days of late. It truly felt like the dance of the smoke was intentional. I captured just over a minute on video I’m sharing with you, then sat with it as the smoke rings played in the air before me. I sang with it a song that felt ancient, a song that was gifted to me for just that moment in time.

As we all go through this day, this moment on our timelines may we take time to connect to purpose, that which I believe is peace, love and kindness.

In gratitude for this communication and may it touch those who feel it’s call and may it reach those who have stone walls around their souls. May kindness, love and peace slip through into the cracks to soften where needed most.


Leslie Kolovich

The Ocheesee Creamery

Soulful Uplifting People with Nic Stoltzfus


Ocheesee Venture Part II: Ocheesee Creamery


Click HERE to read Part I: Ocheesee Pond.

After we got back from paddling at Ocheesee Pond, we changed out of our rain-soaked clothes and prepared subs for lunch.


We had quite the spread: thin-sliced deli meat from Winn Dixie, Amish cheddar cheese from Ohio, homemade pickled banana pepper rings that Joan brought. To drink we had hot coffee, chilled chocolate milk, and watermelon sangria that my mom made from a big melon I picked up in Cottondale the week prior.


For dessert we had homemade ice cream from Ocheesee Creamery. My cousins Mike & Heather moved down from Ohio to start an ice cream business using milk from the creamery. Some of their speciality flavors include Salted Caramel, Chocolate Cream, and Coffee. One of my friends shared that, “I normally only like vanilla, but I tried a bit of each flavor and they were ALL delicious!” I laughed and said that whatever flavor I’m eating at the time is usually my favorite.


Another commented on the taste: “It’s so rich!” I explained that the milk used to make this ice cream comes from Jersey cows, and that Jersey milk has the highest fat content of all the dairy cows and makes for particularly creamy milk and ice cream.


After we finished dessert, we loaded up our vehicles and drove a few miles to Ocheesee Creamery. It’s a special place for me: my grandparents moved there in the 1950s from Delaware to found the dairy, it was where my mom was born, and the farm is still in the family—my mom’s sister, Mary Lou, and her husband Paul run the business.


When we arrived my cousins greeted us. My one cousin had gotten a bunny for her birthday, and she wanted to show it to us. She held him out for me to hold. “His name’s Clover.” He had floppy ears and his down-soft fur was dappled black and white. I told her that he looked like a dalmatian and maybe a better name for him would be Pongo. She scowled at me. “Clover’s a bunny, NOT a dog.” I asked how she knew for sure. “Bunnies don’t bark, silly.”


We walked around the farm, looked at the cream-colored calves sitting under the shade of the pecan trees, watched clucking chickens peck at their feed, and arrived at the dairy barn in time for the afternoon milking.


My aunt Mary Lou shared with them the mechanics of dairy farming: she carefully explained how certain machines work, the process of how the cows get milked, and how they store and ship the milk. As I watched her impart the multi-faceted steps of her job to my friends, I realized that, not only is she a proficient farmer, she’s also a great teacher.


Her son Pierre and his wife Misty lead the cows from the field to the dairy barn. He walked behind them with a white stick, gently tapping them on their rumps, encouraging them to walk forward towards the barn.


After they cleaned the cows off, they began the milking process. We watched for awhile, then said goodbye, and came back home.


We washed our feet off and walked barefoot through the carpeted grass. We sat down on some picnic benches in the garden and chatted. A woodpecker called out overhead, hummingbirds zipped by, and blue jays swooped down to land on the feeders. Butterflies fluttered by and gently touched down on raging purple blossoms.


Buddy, our Australian shepherd, sat next to Karen, happy as she scratched his ears. Snugs the pug joined us outside, too, and wondered around sniffling at the flowers.


Everyone enjoyed the weather—a summer afternoon cooled by morning storms. Our conversation drifted to talk about our home here in Ocheesee.


“It’s so quiet here.”


“You have such lovely flowers!”


“With all this land and nature—what rich lives you have!”


My parents and I were flattered. By coming up here and seeing and taking notice of our world—what we see every day and, honestly, sometimes get bored with—they gave us wonder; their fresh perspective reinvigorated ours with a new appreciation for our home.


The sun began to fade in the sky and the shadows grew long. Leslie and the crew got ready to leave. We hugged them all goodbye and went inside with smiles on our faces grateful for good friends, laughter, and a place to call home.


Photography by Joan Vienot

Video production by Leslie Kolovich




Paddling The Ocheesee Pond

Ocheesee Venture Part I: Ocheesee Pond

By Nic Stoltzfus

Earlier this month, I invited a few of my friends from coastal Florida to come up and spend the day with us in the backcountry of Florida. I had invited seven of them–Leslie and Kent Kolovich; their daughter, Maddie; Joan Vienot; Karen Boudreaux; and Pat “Sheewho” Cummins–to paddle Ocheesee Pond and then go visit my aunt’s dairy farm, Ocheesee Creamery, in the afternoon.

Ocheesee Pond was recently added to the Florida Greenways and Trails as a paddling trail. However, calling it a pond is a bit of a misnomer–at around 2,000 acres, it’s more like a lake. It’s a beautiful paddle–the tea-colored pond is covered with cypress trees and, on previous paddles, my dad and I have seen all kinds of wildlife: osprey, owls, woodpeckers, turtles, to name a few.

My friends arrived around nine in the morning; a summer thunderstorm tailed them on their way from Panama City. My mom and dad suggested that we head over to the pond and begin paddling before the storm caught up with us. The ten of us quickly loaded up in our vehicles and made our way to the pond. When we arrived, the wind was whipping the water, and the sky was bruised black and grey. Thunder boomed and brackled, and the air was cool. My mom checked the radar on her phone and said that this band would soon pass. We stood on the edge of the ramp and waited.

There was a man sitting on the embankment beside the ramp with his feet and a fishing pole dipped into the water. I walked up to him and said hello. He eyed me suspiciously. “Y’all been here before?” I told him I was from Blountstown, and that I brought some friends from Panama City to paddle on the pond. We made small talk, and he told me that he caught a small three-foot gator while fishing off the side of the ramp. “He ate my cork,” he said in a syrupy accent. “There’s other gators further back, too. Big ‘uns.” I raised my eyebrows at that. “Might not wanna swim outchyonder.” I thanked him for his advice.

By that time, the blackened band of storm clouds had blown further east, so we pushed our kayaks and paddle boards into the water and began paddling. No one was in a hurry; the pace was nice and slow, everyone was enjoying the scenery. A gentle breeze blew through the Spanish moss draped over the cypress branches, and it was the coolest I had felt outside in months.

We paddled into a cypress dome, and it began to rain again. We sat there surrounded by the steady sound of rain and the sweet smell of blooming water lilies. The overhead storm cleared its throat and spat rain harder towards the ground. The falling liquid smacked the brims of our hats and the surface of the water. The wind picked up, and we shivered, drenched.

The rain finally lightened up and a few patches of blue sky appeared. When it stopped raining, my mom checked the radar again and said that another storm was coming through–this one more intense than the previous two.

We paddled back to the ramp, past wood duck holes and wasps’ nests, past cypress knees and and submerged stumps; we paddled, us adventurers ten, soaked with rain and joy and wonder.


Photography by Joan Vienot

Video Production by Leslie Kolovich

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