The Ramblings and Wanderings

Archive for the ‘Musings About the Land’ Category

It’s easy to get trained

You see

By the horrid Winter freeze

To bundle up

And sneak outside

And hide from the elements

Then one sunny day in March

You wake up and hear the sound of

The garbage truck coming down your lane

And you are late again

You grab the box of recycling and race down the stairs

On to the porch

To the sidewalk

In the nick of time

And smile at the garbage man

As you turn around to head inside

Suddenly you realise

You’re outside in shirt sleeves

And standing on the sidewalk

In bare feet!

Hurrah for Spring!

I am a farm girl; I “get” the lambing season at Imbolg as I have spent many sleepless nights in the barn, praying to Brighid as I midwife livestock. I don’t need to be reminded of where my food comes from, I have grown it!

I don’t need a lesson to tell me how to experience the elements, I have lived in them, and I have worked in them. I have been up to my knees in frozen mud and in snow, with the winter sun beating down on me as I fix the horse fencing. I have had a wind burned face, a sun burned nose and frost bitten toes.

I have lived at the edge of endless wilderness all my life. I have performed rituals in a real grove. I have done meditations under an elder tree that is older than my country. I backpack into the wild on a regular basis, I have had bears on my property in spring and summer, fishes spawning in my creeks in fall, and moose that walked by my house each morning.

I have touched a shrine to Epona on my way into the stable each day. I have poured offerings to Taranis when ever the storms loom close and threaten the seedlings newly planted. I have sung to Danu when I walk the fields. I have praised Cernnunos as my hound and I track wild rabbit.

I adore wildcrafting and learning the native plants of an area. I have dozens of field guides. I love learning about animal tracks and all of that. I love being bale to walk through a landscape and know what grows/lives where and why.

My connection with Nature is largely through animals, a result for farming and working in animal rescue, as well as the wild. Thanks to living in places where I have accesses to it as well as being raised by the kind of Dad who teaches his daughter orienteering for fun on the weekends.

Formal gardening is an area I am not a strong at. My mother and grandmother have terrific green thumbs and are amazing gardeners. Things just come naturally to them. Anywhere my Mom is, things grow bigger and greener than they “ought” to be. This didn’t happen for me, so I was put off a little when I was younger, feeling frustrated and inadequate.

I am a much better container gardener for some odd reason. Also I do very well with xeriscaping and growing native plants, that are happier to be allowed to do their own thing for the most part, rather than working with finicky rose bushes like my Mom.

As for the home I talk to house spirits and they are normal to me in a rather odd way. I have a kitchen shrine and a house altar and a sunroom shrine. Honestly I feel quite unhappy, even a little anxious not having my shrines up, they are such a part of my life now.

The gods and spirits get fed regularly, usually home made biscuits or something along those lines. The ancestors have a permanent place on the house altar, where they get acknowledged everyday.

I love to cook, though I am no expert. I love to bake more and have a little notebook I cram with hand written recipes. I love to experiment with food and make a terrible mess in the kitchen.

I always have a Birth of Venus hanging in my bathroom, a witch ladder somewhere, broom by or above the door, witch balls hung in the window etc

I love having a magickal home, living in an enchanted world. My poor man, Dr. Philosopher has to adjust to it. Just the other day he dared to put a half full tea cup on the shelf with my herbalism gear, which is below the house altar! He got a “tsk tsk” for that!

Having recently moved into the city, I have to adjust to pulling the blind down if I want to wander around naked, setting off smoke detectors with smudge sticks and having not moonlight but streetlight coming in through the window.

It’s easier to not notice the big maple tree on the corner when in the city. I find myself talking down to house plants in a way I’d never do to potted juniper on the front stoop, let alone a 100 year old elder tree!

A Simple Life

By Kat Ballew

Cows grazing on the mountain side

horses running wild along the seaside

Birds singing as they journey past

and old men telling tales that are unsurpassed

Butterflies fluttering their wings in the breeze

And the sun doing everything to appease

This is the simple life of living

This is a day of thanksgiving

The tumbleweed rolls across the desert floor

The owl sings a song and is the nights decor

The fireflies flash their lights in harmony

And the crickets they do play for all a symphony

The waters rush up to scare the shores

The milky way dips and peace from it pours

The wolf howls out but the moon is not afraid

A simple life for nothing would I trade

In the deepest and darkest slumber

When the world is plunged in cold and snow

The Earth rests gripped in the heart of Winter

Cloaked in ice and freezing winds that harshly blow

The King who wears the Holly crown

Sits high upon His icy throne

*

We with one ear pressed to the frozen ground

Do hear the sounds of returning warmth

With creaks and groans the Goddess gives birth

To a Son of Oak and light and mirth

Just as the Sun begins its slow return

*

As the Oak babe is suckled and fed

A meal of warming earth and melting snow

The Holly King begins to feel his age

As crocus blooms and tulips push through

Holly knows his time is near an end

Youth no more, now a wise sage

*

On the day that we call Equinox

Young Oak and old Holly now

Stand as equals in the Earth’s heart

Though we know that some day soon

Sadly one will have to depart

*

And so the chase has begun

Round from Winter to Summer’s return

Oak gives chase as Holly leads the race

When wise old Holly can no longer run

He draws a sword against His own Son

A clash of sword and smash of staves

Holly will not easily give way

*

The Lord of Misrule rests in death

Wearing his Ivy and Holly crown

He awaits rebirth with Summer’s peak

The Lord of Sun-lit woodlands

Wears his Ash and Oaken crown

He rules now until the Autumn breeze

The Lady of the great green Earth

Wears her hawthorn and blossom crown

She now prepares for her wedding feast

*

We honour the Flower Maiden, who blesses the blooms

Who is made of meadowsweet, oak-blossom and broom

We are the ones who dance with the Blooming Bride

Ancient and modern rites to celebrate May-tide

*

In the brightest and warmest of celebrations

When the land burst with life and growth

The Sun hangs hot in a blue sky

Blessing our crops and herds and our lives

The King in his Oaken crown

Walks the land with stag by His side

*

We who play and dig in the dirt

Feel the winds shift and the world turn

With a rustle of the wheat field and the ripening of fruit

The Goddess birth a Son of Ivy and Holly too

Now the Sun peaks and begins to wane

*

We honour the Summer Queen, Maiden no longer

Who brings berries and fruit and makes the days stronger

We gathered to witness Her pledge her troth

Where bud and blossom Promise to us Summer’s growth

Summer Queen we thank you for the fertile and abundant land

*

Now the Holly child begin to grow

Fed on the first fruits of the Summer

His waxing strength turns the land towards Autumn

Oak King grows from wild young Hunter

To resting wise Lord ready for slumber

He raises His hand and the land He does bless

The last of His love He gives to the Earth Mother

*

The second Equinox now begins

With Autumn rains and cooling winds

Elderly Oak and youthful Holly

Are once again balanced in harmony

We gather the Harvest and wait for the Hunt

*

It seems that before we know it

We huddle inside and we run and we hide

From the first frosts and from the Wild Hunt

The last of the Harvest is tucked in storage

As Holly tracks Oak with spear in hand

Father and Son, Brother to Brother

They begin that ancient struggle

*

The King of Sun-lit woodlands deep

Gives up His flowered and Oaken crown

He awaits rebirth with Winter’s peak

The Lady of the abundant Earth

Adorned in Her darkest gown

Weds her Holly King and then She

Prepares for Winter’s sleep

The Lord of Misrule takes the throne

Wearing His Ivy and Holly crown

He will rule ’till Spring birds sing

*

We honour the icy Crone, who is also our Mother

Winter winds do shake Her bower

With Her Earthly gifts tucked safely in storage

Meat and grains and fruit dried and put away

We deck the halls and build up the fire

*

And so we will lovingly tend that fire

Pour offerings and make merry

All in Their honour

We sing songs in Their praise

We drum and we dance

With the good Gods

Around the great Wheel

That never stops turning

I don’t really have a Book of Shadows, rather I have several notebooks scattered around with bits of this and that. Terribly disorganized I know, but better suited to my personality. Maybe someday, when I am in my grey hairs, I will combine the best pieces. Do something pretty and scrapbook-ish perhaps. For now I will carry on with my many notebooks. Every now and then I find one I thought was lost and flip through it, delighted by the bits and pieces I find. Here is a fragment of a poem I started over a year ago and never finished:

I stand upon the mountainside

I raise my hands up to the sky

My feet touch the land

My eyes caress the valley below

I taste the wind and the rain

Drink, drink, drink

Drink it all in

Soak it up witch

Here I stand

I am alive

I rise with the Sun

It breaks through the clouds

I blow kisses at the rainbow it brings

I am soaked

I am alive