The Hedge of Summer Autumn

 

I've been incubating this summer, in a mostly solitary manner. But today, today...

Autumn arrives this afternoon on the patch of earth to which we steward, tend, and love so deeply. This patch of earth - and every stretch of her - is beloved kin; kin to which I am devoted.

The backyard farming tasks that sustain this patch of earth, and us - all of us - are ramping up now; a ramping up that (historically) continues to accelerate deep into October, winding down in November, and dwindling into the winter months, though never stopping, even after the snow falls .

The last few days of kitchen witchery have been focused on canning soups; “stuffed” cabbage soup, “stuffed” pepper soup, and harvest vegetable soup. Today’s focus will be on the green beans, along with other harvest-to-kitchen-to-pantry efforts. Then there will be time in the gardens where summer squashes await attention, along with eggplant, tomatoes, peppers, tomatillos, broccoli tops, basils, and more. And these harvests will inspire more kitchen magick.

I love every season, especially the one I'm in at the moment I'm in it. Know what I mean? I feel that love beyond my roots this morning. And with this, I feel a part of me stirring, as if awakening from a long, deep, dream-sleep. It feels good and right on this hedge-day that holds summer and autumn together in the heart me, in the heart of this patch of earth, in the heart of life-harvests, in the heart of Gaia, in the heart this world that we share.

Make a moment to pause, breathe, to take in the goodness, the gladness, the gratitude. Take it in. All the way in. Today. And every day.

Peace.

Vernal Blessings

 

Here in my realm of our shared reality, the season of spring arrives later today with the vernal equinox. My long-time tradition for this transitional occasion is to offer focused attention and active blessings and gratitude to and for the season of winter as it shifts off the seasonal stage. As I type this, there are flurries dancing on the other side of the windows, and they offer sweet, if not comical, validation to this ritual.

By evening, spring will be fully with me, despite the chill of the day. The days around the vernal equinox are days of balance and harmony for me, as I hold the suspension of day light and dark night in my heart as I await for the glorious, if not incremental, increase of daylight over darkness. I honor this season for this escalation, and look forward to the days ahead when intense signs of awakening, sprouting, growth and expansion and undeniable and pregnant with promise. The gods know this world needs promise.

But today, I’ll make time to bundle up to wander our blessed little acre so that I may honor and gift winter with my gratitudes. I’ll harvest a twig to bring indoors where a fire will be burning to warm us as I embellish the vernal sprig with expressions of my desired expansions, and springtime accolades.

Tomorrow, on the first full day of spring, I’ll delve deeper into honoring and gifting this regenerative season with my vernal gratitudes.

These simple acts, rituals, and ceremonies are magick and Medicine to me. I invite you to to join me in this sacred seasonal honor, in any way that pleases 'n' delights, nourishes 'n' sustains all the best parts of you and your world.

And to my friends in the southern hemisphere, I offer you autumnal blessings.

Peace. 🕊

Hibernation Continues

February arrives, and I find myself in the days of Imbolc, the Indo-European name for this sacred liminal space between winter solstice and vernal equinox. These days invite me to recall that winter's worst may still lie ahead, externally - sure, and also internally. I often refer to February as the longest month of the year... because, for me, the pattern is that it is. 

This year I embrace this liminal space - this time between times - by reviewing the list of My Wants, and I see things I have absolutely no recall of writing, and take delight in them, especially those that are made and making manifest in my world. I see other things that I realize do not belong to me, and I gladly cross them off the list. I see Work and work that needs to be done in the days and months ahead, and I honor the planning, plotting and doing that carries this magic. 

I draw a tarot card, as is my habit as each calendar month presents, and this morning I chuckled as I drew The Hermit, and offered hand-to-heart honor to the introspective, solitary realm in which I feel most comforted, most challenged and... most safe; a realm in which I may stay rooted for this calendar phase. And I am grateful. So in these days of Imbolc's liminal space I shall tend the roots of this verve so that my seeking may continue as I plan, plot and gently do The Things in my own way, at my own pace, for this world that I love so much. 

As I consider these ruminations, I step outside into the damp chill to offer Gaia gratitude for the abundance she graces to all life, even to the ignorant 'n' dismissive. I ask for gentleness, internal and external, as I tread through this long, long month of February, alone-n-accompanied by all life.

[ As my hibernation continues I offer mammoth gratitude for my Moonshine community. ::nods:: ]

Peace. 🕊

A Liminal Ramble from the Full Moon Hedge

 

This past full Lughnasadh moon, the first of two full moons this August, has expressed a pronounced yet gentle verve to me.

One of my habitual moon rituals is, at the full moon, to assess all that's in my moon cauldron and to engage the days of waning moon to empty these holy bits so that by the new moon the cauldron is void, empty of holy bits, so that I may choose what to add to explore during the waxing phase. 

So now, as we move beyond this brilliant full moon, it would be time for me to start emptying my moon cauldron in preparation for the upcoming new moon. Make sense? I sometimes wonder if it does. ::nods:: But that's beside the point. You see, this full moon handed me a word, and that word in Linger.

Linger.

I don't know what it means, but I do know that when Luna offers a gift, I accept it. I'll embrace it until such time I'm able - and willing - to acknowledge and honor what I discover as I unwrap and explore the contents of this gift.

Even in my befuddlement I feel how this word, this gift - Linger - resonates within and around me. It feels moored to another word that has been holding my conscious awareness, and driving my recent work - Liminality. This recent work, and the word itself, is inspired by the book Living Resistance, by Kaitlin B. Curtice (a read I most definitely recommend). This work with liminality has been going on for a while, and is anchored somewhere in early 2022, before I read the book, and when I returned to Hedge work, as I call it... working in and with those spaces between spaces. 

Linger. Liminality. Hedge.

So here I am, pondering the intersection of these web threads that are holding me, pronounced yet gentle. Swaying in their embrace as I prepare to pass through the gate of 65/11/2 in October. There's nuance here, yet I can feel the tug to leave that unexpressed for now, and let it linger.

So here I rest - for today - swaying with the swing, pronounced yet gentle, as I Linger.

Linger.

Peace. 🕊

Lughnasadh Blessings

 

August kicks off - in my realm - with sunshine, good air quality, unusual tempered temperatures, and a good dose of righteous indignation. And being a backyard farmer with some Irish in me, this holy time of Lughnasadh holds a special place in my life and in my heart. 

Of course, any event that honors the earth, our divine Mother, my beloved Nona Gaia, her abundance 'n' generosity, is an event that I'll embrace with a madness. Such earth-centered holy days act to ground - and ground again 'n' again - my dedication to nurturing the living rituals that are part of my daily living. Rituals that nourish and sustain life. All life. Thus, that righteous indignation (but that's yet another rant for yet another day, gods willing ::knock wood::). 

Righteous indignation aside, today I'll be harvesting green beans, zucchini, kale, collards, beets, maybe another cabbage, french fingerlings, peppers, green onions, the first couple of ripe tomatoes, and possibly a few carrots... parsley, dill, cilantro, summer savory, Mexican mint, calendula, mullein, monarda, yarrow, other botanicals, and - yep - sweet, sweet basil. 

Not to mention echinacea, wild carrot, zinneas, and other blossoms to add color 'n' verve to our day, and days. 

What color 'n' verve are you harvesting this holy day, this season, this life that nourish and sustain? What prayers do you live? 

What prayers do you live?

Peace. 🕊

Every Day There is Something

Every day there is something in life to harvest. 
Every day there is something in life to plant. 
Every day there is something in life to receive. 
Every day there is something in life to give.

~ A lesson from the plant realm.

Peace. 🕊

A version of this entry was originally posted June 10, 2019 at When Weeds Whisper.

October Peace

October enters my world with a signature chill 'n' damp... a day to stay indoors, out of the gardens, to tend to that which has been harvested. I'll honor the first day of this month by tying the corn to hang, a practice that adds seasonal decoration to our little home, as well as grain to grind when we crave polenta, cornbread, and the like. I'll check on the winter squashes that are curing in the greenhouse, to see if any are ready to join their family in the cellar. There are jars of dried food and Medicine to label and place on their respective shelves. I'll warm the house by making Scarpaccia and more zucchini-oatmeal cookies. 

In the breaking light of this October morning I view the gardens, still full of harvests to be made in the coming days as I keep watch on the forecasts for that first day of urgent gathering. I see beds to be tidied, garlic and shallots to be planted... seeds to drop... and the eventual rest that comes with this month.

I see the quiet, introspective, shadow work that October offers... the reflective 'n' projective work that prepares me for the new year at Samhain, and for the darkest days of the seasonal spiral that delivers us to winter, and for the eventual rest that I, and Nona Gaia, have earned. Together.

🕊

Seasonal Gratitude

I give thanks to this harvest, to the spirit of these plants, to the spirit of their Medicine… tansy, summer savory, and peppermint, and to all their kin, allies, and comrades of every kind.

As I move through these waning days of Summer, toward, and into the days of Autumn, I honor the harvests… the spirals of birth, life, death and renewal. I honor the soil, the air, the warmth 'n' light of the sun, the waters, and the very spirit that keeps me true to my purpose, true to all life, true to the Earth that nourishes and sustains all of us.

🕊 Peace.

Buon pesce d’aprile!

 

Or, if you prefer, happy April fools' day. 

That, and a new moon too.

This April arrives with me emptying, 'n' releasing, as is my new moon habit. This pursuit allows me examine - every month - "things" that don't nourish 'n' sustain the world (and me) in any way, and offers me an opportunity to offer thanks and release them to go where they are needed, wanted, 'n' worthy. These "things" include activities, behaviors, relationships of every kind. Now, as the moon waxes again, I shift my focus to filling my vessel with "things" that do nourish 'n' sustain the world (and me). That this new moon makes manifest with Pesce d'aprile (April fools' day) offers me a potentially playful perspective to consider as I fill my waxing lunar vessel. 

We live in odd times, though the foolish ancients and their consorts of folly remind me that all times are odd times. That said, I feel challenged to lighten up, to embrace some folly, familiar 'n' foreign. It's a challenge to be light in heavy times. And it can be Medicine. And I feel drawn to it, and shall do my best to heed the tug of the mystery that guides me... nourishes 'n' sustains me.

I hope you will too. Consider this your invitation. 

Peace. 🕊

November Arrives...

... and with it, the new year. While the pace of the season relaxes, there's still plenty in the gardens to enjoy, harvest, preserve, and plant in this new year. Heck, we harvested four cucumbers from the last of the cuc plants just three days ago. That was a first; cucumbers at the end of October. ::nods:: Alongside our cold hardy plants there's still zucchini offering fruit despite the increasing chill. Zucchini in November. It's concerning, yet I'm grateful. And I'll be harvesting it today, since killing frosts may be upon us this week. These first couple of November days will overflow with urgency as I harvest all that cares not for freezing; the zucchini, celery, celeriac, lovage, thai basil, holy basil, tobacco, grindelia, calendula, probably the turnip 'n' rutabaga too will find a home indoors to sustain us with their nutrition 'n' Medicine in the months ahead. Later, before snow 'r extreme cold, we'll collect the last of the cabbage, kale, collards, choys, mustard 'n' radish greens, and dig up some horseradish after some frosts, but before the soil freezes solid. 

It's a season ripe with hellos  'n' goodbyes.

Every year, at this time (which varies in the linear measure), when the first true frosts hit I exhale a sigh of sadness, relief 'n' gratitude. It's so fitting to this melancholy 'n' mournful season of honor 'n' celebration.

I feel Earth, Nona Gaia, asking me - and all of us - to slow down, as she does every year at this time when autumn leans in. Yet this year I feel a distinct sense of urgency. It's disquieting to me, as opposed opposites tend to be... ripe with antithetical verve... verve that demands my attention (and yours) as we sink into the darkening arms of deep autumn.

I invite you to slow down (if only for a moment) to make time 'n' space to join me, to sink into some quiet 'n' stillness where you can perceive what's real 'n' true, good 'n' right, for all our kin... past, present, 'n' future. 

Peace. 🕊

Arachnid 'n' Halley

 

I've been experiencing enormous comfort from these insistent rains, and in working in the officina (apothecary, if you prefer) these past couple/few days. Yesterday I was able to both harvest carrots and plant carrot seeds; a medicinal metaphor of meaning if ever there was one. Catching up on tasks 'n' communications that had been forfeited over the days prior, sorting through DPM (dry plant matter), especially the powders, to see what stays 'n' goes, making plans for students 'n' workshops all served to offer meaningful focus through which I was able to harmonize needed function with necessary sobbing. It's been a time of grieving, mourning, and healing, to say the least.

I'm still stunned at the expanse of this loss; the feeling in my chest - my heart - is palpable. Tears well up without warning, and fall like the rains. 

I've been working with Arachnid since Tuesday to hold my fractured heart open, yet together without breaking apart, as I grieve. She's woven a strapping 'n' silky-soft web around my heart, with the shattered pieces held open 'n' in place as I feel the feels that must be felt. When the time is ripe, she will assist me in mending the shards together with gold. 

I'm mightily blessed to Know and have relationship with Arachnid, a personal ally since the mid-1990s. Consciously, that is... I'm confident that the relationship is much, much older. She is, in my experience, never demanding. She shows up at will - her will - with unmistakable messages when I need them; I mean, you tell me that a spider bite on your butt doesn't speak with clarity. She responds without hesitation or judgement to my calls for support. She responded to my call to weave support around sweet Halley's backside on her final day with us. Between her loving fibers holding my heart - and me - together without falling hopelessly apart, and beloved Anubis holding Halley in her final day with us (more on that later), I feel grateful beyond grateful. 

It is a mighty comfort to have blessed Arachnid holding my heart, my life, my love, right now. I am beyond grateful for her blessings.

Peace. 🕊

It's the Lusty Month of May

May Day arrives, cool, gusty, sunny, and with the promise of warming spring days, and still-expanding daylight. May Day arrives marking the lusty midpoint between spring and summer, and then some.

I love and appreciate all of the seasons, all of the holy days of Nature's wheel (which, to me, is every single day). Yet today I pause to observe my world - holistically - as we corral into the first day of the month we call May. I pause to renew my lusty passion to honor this warming earth, this compassionate mother, her sumptuous and ever-spiraling berth for seed, root, sprout, leaf, bud, bloom, blossom, fruit, and more - much more. As I pause to acknowledge my shortcomings and renew my vows, I offer her - and you - this prayer: May we venerate the undeniable greening and renewal that makes manifest in ways unlike any other spoke in the wheel of the year; may we hold sacred the miracle of life, with all its enchanting diversity; may we treat this earth and all life she supports better than we do today; may we practice the reciprocity that she - and all life - deserves.

May reminds us in very bold ways - if we're paying attention, that is - how much this earth, our Nona Gaia, loves life, is life. If only we would reciprocate... with lusty passion of intent and action. 

Peace. 🕊

February, February, February...

I don't care what linear, logical, conventional measures of time say, February is the longest month of the calendar year. 

In the best of times, February can be immensely trying. Even in days BC (Before Covid-19), so many of us would feel the feels of longing 'n' loneliness. In days BC, when I was blessed with space in which community would gather, February was expressed by many as a lonely and challenging month. In those days it was a month when drop-in visits picked up, as well as scheduled sessions, not to mention the month when community gathers were consistently well attended. 

In my part of the world February is the final full month of winter. It is a month that many of us - consciously or not - sense the stirrings of spring, the green feelings within that long for the green stirrings without, like the alliums in our kitchens 'n' pantries; we feel something sprouting that has no ordinary earthy space yet to ground. It is a time that calls us to be imaginative, to create imaginal space for our February stirrings to settle 'n' root. 

This can be challenging even in times when we're able gather and share our February stories, green hugs, compassionate smiles. This year, as we - with healing in our hearts - continue to isolate, discourage discretionary gatherings, especially in indoor venues, and as we hide our smiles behind masks with 6+ feet between us, we face exceptional February challenges, like none in memory. I, for one, await days here in the damp, breezy chill of southern New England when an outdoor fire will offer enough comfort to invite a loved one or two to sit beside me, safely distanced, to share a cuppa, a simple meal, a visible smile... and to hear the healing music of collective laughter... quite possibly the shared Medicine I most miss.

Yet there's other shared Medicine that sustains me: The botanical Medicines of February, the mid-winter Medicines of Nona Gaia. This is the month in which the seed-starting dance picks up its tempo. And I am ready to dance with these familiar friends. So blanking ready. I could go on and on here, but instead I invite you to join the dance, especially if you've never danced this dance. Find a vessel, fill it with soil, and place a seed (or a few) within it. Water it, breathe into it, sing to it, and whisper your secrets to it. Dance with it. Tend to and care for that vessel and all it holds, and join forces - quite feminine - to nurture mystical life into ordinary manifestation. Life, that when reciprocal relationship sustains, offers bounty to nourish more - much more - than our bellies. Dance together. In February, and beyond. 

For me, this may just be the most sacred of Medicine that February offers. It is light in darkness. Always. And especially in these dark days we all share. Dance together. 

Peace. 🕊

Welcome to December's Deep Darkness

I'm taking December serious this year... with some earnest down-time, some ruminative stillness, quiet, and BEing. Because I can. And that's a mighty blessing.

December, in my hemisphere, invites us to delve deep into the expanding darkness of night. December reminds us it's our last chance in this turn of the wheel to do so. December cajoles us to quiet ourSelves... and others, to nest 'n' rest, to sleep more... to light candles 'n' fire... to simmer, stew, braise, roast... to embrace meaning in the long night of the soul... and then some.

I feel remarkably blessed (privileged) to be able to fully engage this December verve this year, without demands 'r distractions. Yule, I expect, will be especially sacred after honoring the darkness of the season in ways I've not done for years, quite possibly ever. While I anticipate the return of the light of our world at winter solstice, I shall continue diving deeper into the blessed darkness that the final days of autumn offer us. It's Good Medicine.

Given the nature of our shared world this year, I invite you - as much as you are able - to make time 'n' space to dive deep into the dark depths that only December delivers.

Peace. 🕊

The Season's Garden

Today is for rain. As was yesterday. And tomorrow snow is forecasted. 

Today I'll harvest in the rain. Yesterday I wallowed in October's melancholy and crocheted most of it away. And tomorrow I'll light a fire in the fireplace, light candles, light my inner worlds, and crochet some more.

There will be more harvesting after this snow fall, and the coming of the first hard frost, but it's almost ready to tuck in... the season's garden... and me.

🕊

Autumn Fey

The sketch was made last week, and embellished with watercolor this morning.

My practice of heART journaling is always good Medicine.

Peace. 🕊

Welcome September

Even as aspects of The Garden are past 'n' waning, there's still plenty to tend 'n' harvest well into autumn. And autumn's not here yet. And I am grateful for these final days of summer.

August flitted, I blinked, and linear time has delivered September. Given this dashing verve, meshed with some solitary immersion and inner work, I've found myself in a place to stay for a while. That may sound cryptic, but it's not. It's simple, though not without nuance, and it's the nuance that's gnawing at me. And so it is that some plans have shifted so that I may do the work I'm called to do, and face the challenges I'm called to face.

I'll be staying in The Garden for a while; the one you see, and the one I know. This fits with this transitional month in ordinary and extraordinary ways. I feel a tug - a tug for all of us - to nurture the Gardens, the communities and the wisdom that reside right in our own backyards. We are being called to honor the places where our roots sink, and as we do, we will re-cultivate honor for the earth, the soil, the water, the air, the plants, all life - everywhere - with our behaviors, choices and actions. Actions that may nourish and sustain life, near and far, rather than starve and deplete it. 

This is the Medicine we are called to make manifest.

I pray we are all up to the challenge.

Peace. 🕊

Welcome April and the Vernal Emergence.

The landscape on our little acre still looks more winter than spring. Nonetheless, I've been looking close, and see signs of onion grass, dandelion, chives, celandine, garlic, clover, plantain, butterbur, cleavers, any other rooted kin emerging. Sections of the main vegetable garden have been seeded with peas, spinach, lettuce, and beets. The chicken coop will be moved - on this fool's day - out of the main garden and into its summer space, and I'll be able to get more annual seeds into the warming earth, in between the April showers.

Nap time is over. The vernal voice says so, and confirms the message of my full-year tarot spread. ::nods:: The spread that speaks to changes on the horizon. Shifts whispered in the vernal winds of change. 

Spring is here. I await the vibrant energies of the season, the greening of the landscape, the buds and blossoms that paint the world in colors missed for a full year cycle. I welcome it, and the pace that shall quicken. And the care I must take to keep up with it.

May you welcome spring. May you feel the quickening - without and within. And may you take care so the pace may nurture and sustain you.

Peace.

Welcome January

It's really winter now. And with it - for me - comes the most earnest of the quiet time, still time, and inner time that I experience throughout the whole of the year's turning. Yet, unlike the rather indulgent dark days that lean into winter, these dark days have a light that shines progressively brighter on that which is vital, that which must be seen, that which cannot be denied. As the calendar flips and winter sinks roots, I see myself, winged, flying under an obscure wire. As I reflect on the mystery in this portrayal, I also pull it into the cryptic  guidance received from my full year reading. As I do, I see the roots that have coiled, curled, and grown around one another since my new year in November. I gaze outward from a perched position into the shared garden of life and ponder the mysteries that are broadcast there. I sense the plants - their roots and seeds - luring me deeper into their subtle seduction. In this place we - the plants and I - lean into one another, and at once I observe the plants recoiling from others. I hear their tacit longing and feel - yet again - a fathomless heart tug to be a better champion... for them, for the earth, for all life. And an oath is renewed. I glide throughout this terrain that they - my beloved botanicals, my rooted ancestors - reveal to me. I listen intently for their expressions. I hear and feel a deep-reaching blessing wrench from the roots of my heart's actions and axioms. And without doubt or question, I know that the plants want more of this kind of attention. From all of us. And an oath is renewed. Peace. 🕊

A Proclamation

Every day I do my best to honor, serve, nurture, protect and defend my blessed Nona Gaia.

Peace.