new life will come…….the greening will return…..planting new seeds of ideas into the still and fertile earth…blessings on all the waters of the world…..love to fire…and the light that is growing

Hello dairy friends, we are sending Midsummer Solstice blessings from the Earth Pathways team, scattered as we are, up and down the U.K, and all doing our own special things today. This includes seeing the sun rise at Stonehenge, making magical gardens in the Greenfields site at Glastonbury festival, and for us in Stroud, meeting tonight at the Red Hearth House – a beautiful space set up by one of our contributors for women to come and drum, sing, and be together.

So a gathering I went this morning, to our little nature reserve a minutes walk from my house, as we are planning to make a mandala with midsummer plants and leaves. I picked Oak and Holly leaves, some baby Rowan berries, and some dark mother Beech leaves.

Oh, and I also sniffed out some newly flowering Sweet Woodruffe which I plan to infuse into some delicious dessert wine for a little pep-me-up tonic. I found myself thinking too about Da Witches from Sensory Solutions (they are gloriously quirky diary contributors!) who showed us how to pick lime blossoms at the Solstice for calming teas – and I wouldn’t be a proper witch without those herby teas on hand in my kitchen at any given moment hey??

So that has been my Midsummer morning so far, with the sun bravely trying to push through stormy clouds over our valley. Wishing you all boldness, firey hearts and full stories……whatever your plans.

Beltane morning – May 1st – had me up just before the sunrise and padding into the valley we call the Heavens. I know that many of my witchy sisters will have been jumping the Beltane fires last night on Beltane eve, and I love the thought of that. But I never seem to get a fire together to jump over, so the dawn is the next best magical thing!

So off to my special place – a hidden meadow above the waterfall – steeply sloping, with hawthorn, Holly, Ash and Oak…and the best bit – a very old and very big wild crab apple tree in the corner……

where I tied little prayers or wishes – sometimes known as clouties – onto its sweet branches

And of course Beltane wouldn’t be Beltane without washing my face in the dew – I am still waiting for everlasting youthful skin to be bestowed on me… and it will come, I know it!

Home then, past the badger sets, the three walnut trees, and lots and lots of frothy white Mayflowers….to hot chocolate and buttery toast. It’s going to be a good day….

This dark Imbolc moon brings blue skies and a piercingly bright morning to Stroud.  My world around me still sleeps, quietly dreaming, and so would I be, if it wasn’t for my busy hands that keep wanting to make and make, stitch and paint – easing me out of winter. I learned how to weave on a peg loom, with raw fleece at Fernhill Farm in Somerset. I sat by a fire in Kesty and Martin’s woods and wove ash sticks with wool into a Brigids cross. And I have started the artwork for my favourite little summer festival on the other side of the river – the Space for You camp held by Rainbow 2000.

Our valley – called the Heavens, (and I really must find out why) – is full of these dusty hazel catkins right now. While the rest of our house is being turned upside down by building work and upheaval, these are sitting on my window ledge in the  sunshine, watching the mayhem and sighing at their own completeness and promise. If things don’t settle soon, I am going to hop right up there with them where I can breathe in calmness and yellow-out in my own dusty vision of the world.

Hoping the Imbolc brings you seeds of exciting new ideas in your deepest winter compost!

I felt the light return this morning, rather than witnessed it. I would’ve normally raced up an eastwards facing hill and jumped up and down, willing that firey ball to rise. Not so this morning, in the white stillness. Something quieter stirred…

So I padded down the path in my slippers with two candles, and there they glowed, prettily, in the snow. Then from the warm, I picked up my drum, and slowly, like a quiet hearbeat in the earth, began to dream and drum a little song, spiralling gently from me out into the world. A sweet song that I learned recently, “I will sleep in the darkness, like a seed in the Earth…I will sleep, I will dream, of whats to come”

Blessings on all your dreamings, may they take you on beautiful journeys in 2011.

P.S. Darkness has come again, and my candles are still alight, through the quietness of the day, and even a small snow storm this afternoon.

And so this witching time is upon us….how delicious…..my favourite festival of the year. A group of us gathered to honour our Ancestors beneath a beautiful  Beech tree, turning from its dark leaves to coppery brown. We spoke names of loved friends and family into the circle, which was lit by candles in jam jars….simple but moving, as dusk fell around us, ushering in the winter.

Today, a quieter walk through Slad woods, catching spiralling leaves,  our footsteps winding slowly up the very steep Swifts Hill. At the top, looking out over the gently misted five valleys that I call home, sharing spiced apple juice (thank you Barbara for the apples!) and homemade chocolate biscuits, soft and crumbly.

The time of roots, and of resting. It begins.

… buy local!

Well, I promised a little Equinox frolicking, and for us in Stroud it came last weekend when Kesty and Martin, Stroudie veterans, had a small gathering in their woodland behind their house. A few of us have been meeting up, spontaneously, to welcome in which ever season is on its way, by singing, creating, sometimes dancing, and sharing food. A small crab apple tree had been discovered under brambles, and so we decided to hold our Equinox circle there. Look at the tree festooned with flowers, and the remains of some elderberries that had been pressed for wine – pretty eh? I think it’s little branches thrilled in secret!

Kesty drummed (this is her very special red deerskin drum that she made) and we hopped around happily doing a little dragon dance – this was really for the children, but I noticed the grown-ups were throwing themselves into it. So the dragon began to curl back down into the earth, and we sang and shared food.

The Autumn Equinox is sometimes a funny one for me – it seems like coming into balance can be quite turbulent, as I swing between extremes.

How has it been for you?