moonroot

Beauty, Balance and Delight

2012-01-01T22:42:00.000Z

I haven't posted here on Moonroot as frequently as I would like over the last year. I fully intend to post here more regularly in 2012. But I have also started a new blog, Beauty, Balance and Delight, to which you are warmly welcomed.

Happy New Year! Here's to a wonderful 2012 and some interesting adventures in the blogosphere...

Avalon Spring 2012

2011-11-12T10:52:00.000Z

Avalon Spring 2012 will be held 5th-9th June at a gorgeous venue near Glastonbury, Somerset. This year we will be working with the Diana/Aradia/Lucifer myth - I can't wait! Full details may be found on the website. I'll be going - see you there?

The Changing Tide

2011-11-09T13:18:00.003Z

At the beginning of 2011, I watched as the events of the Arab Spring unfolded with a sense of hope and excitement. Wonderful how people could come together in solidarity and support of each other, and with amazing courage and tenacity face down and finally overcome what had initially seemed invincibly oppressive regimes.

In early summer I heard news of plans to turn Starhawk's book 'The Fifth Sacred Thing' into a film. This is a book that dares to imagine a future where two different societies have evolved from pretty much where we are now. One is dystopian - repressive, authoritarian, militarized, a deeply unequal society. The other is utopian - a flourishing, diverse, peaceful, egalitarian society of abundance and tolerance for all. The book imagines what would happen should these two societies confront each other. I have always thought it would make a great movie and it is a great springboard for discussion on the direction we want our world to take.

And finally, I have been watching with hope, joy (and sometimes anxiety), the birth and development of the 'Occupy!' movement. Watching people come together in the belief that another, better world is possible; watching them behave so peacefully and self-responsibly in the face of sometimes terrible provocation by the authorities; seeing consensus and true democracy in action - well, it has made me feel truly hopeful again.

Something is afoot. Change is in the air. Yet the energy though strong and determined, is also mindful and considered. This is no flash in the pan, firey but ultimately directionless revolt. Despite the protests being criticised for articulating what they are against whilst having - as yet - few solutions, I believe this is actually a strength. Rather than rushing headlong into poorly thought out answers to the inequalities in our society, the protestors are taking time to debate, consider, and generally sift through many many diverse ideas and strategies. Rather than asking the authorities to make it all better, the protestors are acknowledging their own power-with. This is sensible. This is mature. This could lead to real, and lasting change for the better.

If nothing else the protestors are learning invaluable lessons about living together in community, organising, mutual support, working by consensus. And in the meantime the continuing occupations in New York, London and dozens of other places show that they are not going away, not going to just give up and accept the status quo. The Occupy! movement is people finally taking their own lives into their own hands and realising their collective power.

There are many other hopeful developments too. The increase in interest in permaculture, the Transition Towns movement, the move away from mass-produced tat to home-made with love, from fast food to slow...

I haven't been able to get down and Occupy myself (yet!), but inspired by the protestors I am making changes I have talked about for a long time but until now not implemented. I have changed from my old bank (Lloyds, heavily invested in arms companies and with grossly overpaid directors for example) to a more ethical bank (The Co-op). I have made myself, or sourced from other craftspeople almost all my Christmas presents this year, and asked my family to make or buy my presents similarly. I am signing up to an organic veg box scheme. And putting my money where my mouth is feels good!

The tide is changing. Where it will take us, I don't know. But I feel real hope that we are heading to a brighter future. Perhaps we have a real chance to develop into Starhawk's utopian society from The Fifth Sacred Thing. Or something like it. I for one, hope so.

ThriftWitch: The Magic of Scent

2011-11-06T13:06:00.001Z

Scent is one of our five senses, yet for many of us it takes a bit of a back seat to seeing, hearing or touch. Nevertheless, despite - or perhaps because of this, it is a powerful link with our subconscious. Just as the taste of a madeleine brought up many involuntary memories for the narrator of Proust's "À la Recherche du Temps Perdu", I'm sure many of us have experiences of aromas bringing forgotten memories and (perhaps more importantly) emotions flooding back. For example as an adult, just walking into a school and smelling that distinctive, familiar, yet long-unencountered complicated mixture that is 'school' brings back one's own schooldays with an almost shocking immediacy. The smell of an old-fashioned kitchen - gas stove, vanilla essence, cinnamon and just a dash of vinegar - instantly has me sitting at my Nanna's kitchen table watching her bake her famous fruitcake.

Sometimes, the link between scent and memory becomes so explicit and well known to us that we no longer need to smell something, just see or conjure up its image to recall all that the scent holds for us. There was a huge lavender bush just outside the kitchen door of my cousins' house in Dorset where we spent so many happy summer days in my childhood. The sent of lavender has always brought those days back to me, but now I only have to see a lavender bush, or the image of one, for the memories to come back just as clearly as they would from the aroma of lavender.

We use this connection between scent, memory and emotion in many ways. For example we choose different scents for the way they make us feel - a zesty citrus shower gel to wake us up in the morning and make us feel alert and energised, a floral scent such as jasmine or rose when we want to feel feminine or seductive, or a comforting smell like vanilla to turn our homes into a relaxing sanctuary. Of course, because smell is a very personal thing, if you hate vanilla it's not going to make you feel relaxed. So never mind what moods people tell you certain scents are supposed to evoke, go with what they mean to you.

Scent of course, can be used in so many magical ways. It is usual to light incense for example, when creating sacred space. This is partly to cleanse the area and create the right atmosphere for the intended working, and thus there are many commercial blends of incense available that are supposed to evoke the energy of a particular deity or Sabbat. But again, I would advise that if you want to invoke Gaia yet think the Gaia incense you bought for the occasion stinks, don't use it! Think instead about what Gaia means to you (abundance? nurturing? the green Earth?) and try to come up with scents that conjure up these ideas - you could try a berry, apple or peach fragranced oil for abundance for example; perhaps vanilla, cinnamon or your mother's favourite perfume from your childhood for nurturing; a patchouli or pine or grass scented joss stick for the green Earth. You get the picture. As always, use the books (or websites or blogs!) for inspiration, then toss them aside and use what works for you.

I would suggest another function of incense is to put us in the right mind for ritual and/or magic. Some incenses do actually have a measurable effect on our physiology. Frankincense for example is known to slow and deepen the breathing, putting one into a meditative state of mind which explains its popularity as an incense over the millennia. With other incenses, I would suggest that if you habitually burn, say, sandalwood incense for your rituals, the involuntary memory thing will eventually kick in so that whenever and wherever you smell sandalwood incense your mind will go into 'ritual mode'.

So why not use this scent-involuntary memory connection to help you 'change consciousness at will' (Dion Fortune's definition of what magic is)? The first summer I went to Witchcamp, I took a new perfume with me and wore it every day. When I got home, without thinking I reverted to my normal 'everyday' perfume. One day I picked up the bottle of Witchcamp perfume - as soon as I took a sniff I was transported back to Witchcamp! From then on I wore the perfume only for Witchcamp-related things: at subsequent Witchcamps, when meeting up with friends from Witchcamp, or (when I started to get involved with organising Avalon Witchcamp) at Witchcamp organising meetings. Later on, after a vision of community as a giant, sacred beehive, I found a honey scented shower gel from Lush that I used whenever I was doing anything community orientated or when I was trying to make connections or draw new friends into my life. I still use both scents when appropriate, and find they continue to stir my unconscious and help me achieve the state of mind I wish to be in.

I suggest you find a 'basic' scent that you use for your generic rituals and magical workings that will help you instantly get into 'ritual mind'. You can always vary things for specific purposes, but having a reliable standby scent can be a great shortcut! My two standby favourites are patchouli joss sticks or Starchild's 'Hecate' loose incense. If you don't like incense you could try fragrance oils or essential oils in a diffuser or rubbed onto the candles you are using. Or apply perfume to your pulse points, use scented candles, pot pourri, fresh flowers, herbs and spices, floral waters in spritzers, floorwashes... the possibilities are endless.

I was thinking that it would also be helpful to choose a series of emotion-linked scents that you could carry with you in small vials to give you a heping hand when you need it. You could choose your favourite soothing scent for stressful situations, a scent that speaks to you of confidence and self-esteem for challenging situations, perhaps something that makes you feel healthy and full of vitality for when you are lacking energy or feeling under the weather. You must be careful not to only sniff them in 'negative' situations though - remember to wear them on your skin when you know you are going to be feeling relaxed and happy, or full of self-assurance, or full of well-being. That way you will make the connection in your subconscious and can then bring them out in times of need. One of my favourite perfumes is Chanel's 'Cristalle', a light summery scent that I usually reserve for special occasions. A little sniff of it instantly brings so many happy memories flooding back and always lifts my mood.

I am also a great fan of essential oils which I use for first aid (tea tree for cuts, grazes etc, lavender for burns, a quick sniff of ginger as an instant cure for queasiness...), around the house for cleaning purposes and just because they smell nice. My next ThriftWitch post will cover the subject of making your own household cleaning products - they're cheap, safe, smell great and are really effective. In the meantime, have fun experimenting with the magical/emotional possibilities of scent...

A Tale of Two Turnovers

2011-09-28T20:28:00.006+01:00

Driving home from work today, I was ravenous, not having had time for lunch. On a whim, I stopped by the local shop. I had an insistent, out of the blue craving for a fresh cream apple turnover.

More than 25 years ago, I was backpacking around New Zealand. I had spent a few days in Rotorua, sightseeing the geysers and thermal pools. My trip - which had already taken me to Hong Kong, Malaysia and Australia - was nearing its end and money was becoming tight. Waiting for the bus to take me back towards Auckland, I hadn't eaten any breakfast and was starving. There was a bakery just by the bus stop, and through the window I glimpsed a tray of fresh cream apple turnovers. My stomach growled and my resolve to save money by not eating until lunchtime crumbled. I bought one, and stood at the bus stop enjoying every glorious mouthful. It is amazing how much better food tastes when you are really, really hungry. It was just a simple pastry, but the memory of that turnover has stayed in my mind when memories of other, far grander meals have long since faded into oblivion.

I was musing on this today as I made my way to the chiller cabinet, where rows of eclairs, doughnuts and cream slices were displayed. And one - just one - fresh cream apple turnover. I had heard it calling my name!

I carried my prize back to the car. There, in the sunny car park, unembarrassed by the glances of other shoppers, I savoured every last bite. It's quite impossible to eat a fresh cream apple turnover without making a mess. Icing sugar powdering my nose, flakes of pastry on my shirt, sticky fingered, I licked my lips, enjoying it every bit as much as that other treat, long ago and far, far away. Different, but the same. Simple, but so, so delicious.

Sometimes the small pleasures in life achieve true greatness. This was just such an occasion.

September and Storms

2011-09-18T17:38:00.003+01:00

September and May are my favourite months. May, fresh and tender with new growth; September's maturely wistful, mellow air. The light in both months has a soft golden quality, the sun lower in the sky.

September is usually a last little burst of warmth before autumn sets in properly, the mornings chilly and dewy, and the afternoons mild and golden. A 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness'. This September however has been tempestuous and unsettled as the country is lashed by the tail-end of hurricanes from aross the Atlantic. Inbetween the storms the days have been as mild and sweet as usual, and the garden is full of abundant apples, damsons, autumn raspberries and blackberries. The hedges too are dripping with sloes, elder and hawthorn berries, rosehips and hazelnuts. The good weather in the early part of the year allowed excellent pollination rates and now we are reaping the results.

There is uneasiness in my heart though. Weather patterns seem to be changing, and although I know climate change and weather patterns are not the same thing, still there seems to be something going on. The last few years we have had bitingly cold winters, an unseasonably hot, dry spell in spring/early summer, followed by wet, windy summers and flood-prone autumns. Everywhere I hear people exclaiming about the unusual weather, not just here in the UK but all around the world. Droughts, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, prematurely melting ice. Something is going on. And it disturbs me.

Here on the calm, mild days the sun is interspersed with gentle rain and it seems like a normal September. But in exposed places, traumatised trees have had still-green leaves torn away by the fierce winds. In the garden there are few signs of dew-dropped spider webs in the morning. All their careful weavings have been torn and battered down by storms.

The swallows have already left, and no doubt the martens will follow shortly. I pray they will find safe passage to their winter homes. Soon the winter flocks of starlings will be in evidence again. Hopefully this winter won't be so harsh for them.

I hope my fears are unfounded. But I worry about stormy times ahead. In the meantime I harvest fruit from garden and hedgerows, bottling, jamming, pickling, chutneying, drying and brewing it into store cupboard goodies for the cold months. What else can we do but prepare as well as we can for the lean times, whilst hoping for the best?

Enough to Make a Cat Laugh...

2011-08-29T18:08:00.000+01:00

ThriftWitch: Summer in Winter

2011-08-27T19:08:00.001+01:00

Summer is slipping away. Already the days are shorter and there is a tinge of autumn in the air. Wouldn't you love to be able to capture and bottle the essence of summer to be kept for a cheering treat in the midst of the darkest winter days? Well, you can. Summer has not deserted us yet, and there is still time to capture some of her magic...

My first suggestion is to make and freeze some batches of a fresh tomato sauce. The taste of this sauce is like preserved summer sunshine. The tart sweetness of tomatoes, the fragrance of herbs - yum! It's so much better than anything you can produce with tinned tomatoes. Hopefully, you will have some homegrown tomatoes you can use, or failing that you could chat up a gardening friend, seek out a roadside 'honesty' stall, visit your local farmer's market, or even try your plain old ordinary market at the end of the day where you may be lucky to pick up a crateful of ripe tomatoes on the cheap. If all else fails, there's the supermarket!

Fresh Tomato Sauce

Ingredients:

Fresh tomatoes
A few cloves of garlic
A splash of olive oil
A knob of butter
Herbs - preferably fresh. You can choose the herbs you like for this, but personally I go for basil, thyme and a bay leaf or two. And possibly some oregano.

Method:

Skin the tomatoes by placing them whole in a large bowl and pouring boiling water over them. Leave for a couple of minutes, during which you can fry up the minced garlic over a low heat in the oil and butter. Meanwhile the boiling water should have started to split the skins of the tomatoes, and they should be easy to peel. Peel them and plop them in with the frying garlic, turning the heat up a little. They should gradually start to break down (you can help the process along with a potato masher or wooden spoon if you like). Chop the herbs and add to the pan and leave the whole lot to simmer for a while until it's reduced and thickened a bit. At this stage you could be stirring in some wishes and blessings for the coming winter if you like. And you're done! You can add seasoning if you want, but quite honestly I find this recipe so tasty I don't think it needs it.

Freeze the sauce in batches. It is delicious just as it is, over pasta with a grating of Parmesan or the cheese of your choice. Or you can dilute it with a little stock, whizz it through the food processor to make it really smooth, add a dollop of cream and make a tasty soup to serve with garlic bread. Or use it as a base for all sorts of other recipes like chili or ratatouille, or add it to the mince of a shepherd's pie for extra zip. But for a real taste of summer in winter, trust me: as it is, over pasta, with a little cheese. You will be transported back to mid-August as if by magic!

Another magical recipe to transport you back to summer is my Strawberry Crumble. Although it seems a crime to freeze strawberries rather than just enjoying them fresh, trust me on this: in the middle of winter you'll be glad you showed some restraint and put a few by. Actually, if you grow strawberries or go to a Pick Your Own for them, you will know there are always some imperfect strawberries - too hard, just under ripe or over ripe, weird shapes or whatever. Those are perfect to freeze - and they'll taste fabulous in this recipe no matter what they looked like originally! And by the way, rose water brings out the flavour of strawberries beautifully in any dish. Try it.

Moonroot's Strawberry Crumble

Ingredients:

225g strawberries, fresh or frozen
3 tspn sugar
1 tbspn rose water
65g flour
30g sugar
35g butter
2 tspn ground almonds
1 tspn vanilla essence

Method:

Mix together the strawberries, 3 tspn sugar and the rosewater in an ovenproof dish.

Mix together the flour & 30g sugar and rub in the butter until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Stir in the ground almonds and vanilla essence.

Sprinkle the crumble mixture over the berries and cook at 180°C/350°F/Gas Mark 4 for 20-30 mins (until berries are cooked and topping is browned). Serve with cream or vanilla custard.

I think this would be a great Valentine's Day dish - strawberries, rose water, vanilla would all be perfect offerings to Aphrodite (if you can bear to leave a little in a dish for Her!).

Of course there are many other ways of preserving summer into winter - perhaps I'll post about making fruit liqueurs in the near future. There are plenty of damsons, sloes and blackberries coming along in the garden and I have great plans...

August Pleasures

2011-08-14T11:28:00.001+01:00

It has been a quiet, uneventful weekend - heavenly, after a hectic week. Work has been extra busy and at home the house has been in turmoil while a chimney has been lined in preparation for the installation of the new wood burning stove. Earlier in the week my lovely brother and nephew were visiting so there has been much socialising too.

Yesterday I harvested mange-touts and courgettes from the veggie patch, and a basketful of peaches from the dwarf tree in the polytunnel. This morning I had lovely lie-in, and after tending to the chickens (in their luxurious new run!), geese and cats, grazed on juicy blackberries from the hedge. The elderberries are also ripening, so it will soon be time to make a few gallons of wine. And the damson tree is literally weighed down by its enormous crop which is gradually turning from green to purple - more wine, and lots of jam! I love all this harvesting, it's so satisfying.

Meanwhile the kitchen is scented by the bunches of herbs that are hanging up to dry - rosemary, watermint, meadowsweet and St John's wort. Bear snuggles, purring on my lap as I type. What a lovely day! I hope yours is just as lovely.

ThriftWitch: Double Time

2011-07-31T20:24:00.001+01:00

When I originally started my 'Thriftwitch' posts, I was thinking of ways of being thrifty with money. What I have been finding of late is that for me - and many others I suspect - time is also in short supply.

Here then, are a few ThriftWitch tips on saving time (and perhaps also money) in your witchery.

For me, one thing that always seems difficult is to maintain a regular spiritual practice when time is in short supply. I have found that one answer to this is to build your spiritual practice into your daily routine. For some this may mean getting up an hour earlier to meditate, but for those of us who prefer to spend that extra hour under the duvet, I have some other suggestions.

For example, one of the underpinnings of my spiritual practice is being in touch with the tides and seasons of the natural world. In an ideal world I would love to spend much of my time walking in woods communing with trees, sitting in my garden watching birds, insects and plants, or wandering the fields and hedgerows gathering wildflowers and herbs. Unfortunately the demands of earning a living and looking after animals, home and garden leave little spare time for such activities. So I try to go about the daily chores mindfully, using that time to check in with the constant seasonal changes around me.

The daily routine with the chickens is an excellent opportunity to notice what's happening in the garden as I have to go down there at least three times a day. In that time I can notice new plants emerging, coming into bloom or going to seed, tune into the songs of the birds, notice the phase of the moon or the slant of the sun and the onset of twilight. I can feel the rain or sun or wind on my skin, and take heed of weather omens for the coming days. All of this, while I am doing what I would have to be doing anyway.

You may not have chickens, but you could do the same whilst walking the children to school, waiting at the bus stop, cutting through the park during your lunch hour, taking the dog for a walk, watering the tomatoes, pegging the laundry on the line or going for a run.

Another great way to stay in tune with the seasons with the smallest of tweaks to your normal routine is to eat local, seasonal food whenever possible. There are many ways to do this, from growing it yourself to shopping for at least part of your weekly groceries at the local farmer's market/WI market/local organic or health food store. When doing your shopping, read the labels of the food. If it's been flown in from Thailand or Kenya it's not really local and hence probably not seasonal! Get to know what's in season when, from asparagus to raspberries to mackerel and mushrooms. It really does taste so much better when it's freshly picked and hasn't been transported hundreds of miles to get to you. This year I positively gorged myself on local asparagus during May/June, but I probably won't be eating it again until the same time next year. Far from feeling deprived by this, it makes the asparagus I do eat so much more appreciated. It's the same with new potatoes or summer strawberries. And when we grow some of the best apples in the world here in the UK, why on earth do we buy flavourless imported ones at the very time that other mouthwatering fruits like cherries, plums and berries are being produced on our home turf in abundance?

Here are a few more suggestions for adding a spiritual dimension to your daily routine and getting more out of your time:

If you take public transport to work or school, use the time to meditate, practise skills like balancing your chakras, read a spiritual book or listen to meditative music.
If you drive in to work you could listen to spiritual music or practise exercising witchy skills such as focusing on there being a parking space where you need one (it's amazing how often this one works with a little practice). Probably best though not to listen to anything too trance-inducing whilst driving!
Whilst walking the kids to school make a game with them of noticing seasonal changes around you - the first swallow of spring, the first ripe fruits on the trees, the first falling autumn leaves.
Cook with intent - stir in love, peace, nurturing. Cut runes or symbols into your pie crusts or loaves or biscuits or even your roast potatoes! Add a pinch of herbs or spices chosen for their magical meaning. Stir in positivity in a deosil direction. Cook with love!
Eat with intent, be aware of each mouthful and concentrate on how the food is nourishing you.
Make your housework chores a meditation. Meditate on cleaning away that which no longer serves you as you sweep, dust, polish. Even washing up can be a profound experience when viewed this way - honestly!
Slumping in front of the TV is so very tempting after a long hard day - I'm as guilty of this as anyone! But it's also a terrible waste of time. Choose your viewing carefully - only switch on if there's something you really want to see. If the alternative is an evening of restless channel hopping because there's nothing that really grabs you, turn it off! Read a book, write in your journal, knit a scarf, phone a friend, play with your kids, potter in the garden, bake a cake, play the piano, take a leisurely soak in the bath... all of these things will nourish your soul far more than vegging out in front of the TV.
Make a little altar on your desk at work or a window sill or shelf at home - it doesn't have to be an 'in-your-face-witchy' altar, but a little grouping of meaningful objects (a shell, crystal, family photo, votive candle, potted plant, fresh flowers, an acorn, a piece of jewellery...) will catch your eye during the working day and give your spirit a little lift. It will also be a reminder to see the sacred in the every day.
If you can do it without getting weird looks from co-workers, sing or chant as you work. Literally 'enchant' your work.

Finally, if you need more time in your life, invoke Time as an ally. Ask that time stretch and be flexible so that all that needs to be done can be done. This truly works. And when you're done, don't forget to thank Time. As in all things, a little gratitude goes a long way!

Birthday Blessings

2011-07-13T17:00:00.001+01:00

Today I am grateful for... a day of beautiful sunshine.

Today I am grateful for... a wonderful boyfriend and brother-in-law who have slogged all day in said sunshine to build a me new chicken run.

Today I am grateful for... all the birthday greetings, cards and gifts from friends and family far and wide.

Today I am grateful for... my sister who has cooked a special birthday feast for me!

Today I am grateful for... the failure of the BSkyB bid (is that mean of me? But what a birthday present!)

Today I am grateful for... a special cupcake from my friend Pinky.

Today I am grateful for... the bottle of Oaked Forest Honey Mead that I will open to celebrate my birthday this evening.

Today I am grateful for... a greenhouse full of thriving tomatoes.

Today I am grateful for... another wonderful year on the most beautiful blue and green planet I have ever seen.

And you?

Of Babies and Bathwater

2011-07-10T13:57:00.004+01:00

When I first discovered there was such a thing as modern Paganism and Witchcraft, I was so excited to find there were other people out there who shared my beliefs. I now had a word for what I believed, and I was not alone! This is an experience that is shared by many people within the neo-Pagan community.

I quickly read everything I could get my hands on - actually not that much was available back in the 1980's, but I soon gobbled up what there was - and began trying my hand at creating spells and rituals. I was also determined to do it right, and that meant following every witchy cliché in the book. I dressed in black. A lot. I bought cheesy 'occult' jewellery. I listened to godawful faux-Celtic New Age music. I did bazillions of spells (and couldn't understand why they either failed to work or spectacularly mis-fired), and I longed, longed, to be in a coven (fellow witches not being that thick on the ground back then either). I just knew that all those other Pagans were wise, wonderful, perfect human beings and I wanted to be with them. I wanted to be them.

Well, I grew up. I got tired of wearing so much black. All colours are the colours of the Goddess, right? I stopped wearing lots of occult jewellery and found a few pieces that actually had some meaning for me. I kicked the New Age music right out in favour of stuff that didn't make me wince. I stopped doing spells and instead worked on my understanding of how magic works - and now I use it both rarely and judiciously. And I met up with my fellow Pagans. And guess what? They're human beings, just like everyone else. They're wonderful and infuriating in equal measure; they're imperfect but mostly trying to do the right thing. Just like the rest of the world. Just like me.

Somehow, we manage to make the most simple things complicated. We think to fit in, we have to change who we are and adopt the opinions, fashions and tastes of those we seek to join. Yes, of course, we need some common ground, but should we really have to give up our own unique selves? I am a Pagan, a witch. I have been all my life, and for the last 25 years I have also had the correct title to label myself with. But I am still me. To be honest, I think people would be hard-pressed to pick me out of a crowd as a Pagan, but that doesn't mean I am not serious about my Paganism. It just means I don't feel the need to point it out to the world with every nuance of my being.

Don't get me wrong. Paganism has definitely been a huge influence on my life. I have learned so much on this path, both about myself and the rest of the worlds. Paganism has definitely changed my perception about many things. Yet isn't that what life does anyway? I'm sure not many of us die the exact same person we started out. Or if we do, what a waste of an amazing learning experience!

There is a Zen saying, "Before I studied Zen, mountains were mountains, and water was water. After studying Zen for some time, mountains were no longer mountains, and water was no longer water. But now, after studying Zen longer, mountains are just mountains, and water is just water".

Eventually I saw there is magic in everything. Everything - the washing up, the car, gossiping with the neighbours, making myself a cup of tea. It's all in the perception. Magic really is the art of changing consciousness at will. And I have learned how important it is to be true to myself. I have learned to hang onto the baby (what is important), and throw out the bathwater (what doesn't work or doesn't have meaning for me). All those things I mentioned like wearing black etc? They're all fine if that's who you are. But being a Pagan runs right through me and how I lead my life. It's not just a costume I put on to tell the world who I am.

Here's one thing I've learned: above all, make sure you know who you are. Find your place in the world and plant your feet there firmly, whether it be a solid foundation or merely the first step on the right path. Then you can flourish (pointy hat optional).

The Scent of Blackcurrant Leaves

2011-07-06T17:46:00.003+01:00

Warm sun on my back, I brush aside the leaves to find the hidden treasure. Hanging in shining black clusters, the big juicy sweet/tart berries soon fill my basket.

As the distinctive, tangy scent of blackcurrant leaves fills my nostrils, I have my own Proustian moment. I am transported back to my childhood, picking blackcurrants in my grandparent's orchard. For me it is the quintessential summer memory. In amongst the currant bushes, gobbling down most of what I pick as the sun shines and Nanna, Mum, my siblings and I chat companionably, picking, picking, picking. The currants will be turned into pies, puddings, jams and some will be frozen so we can enjoy the taste of summer even during the darkest of winter days.

This summer, my own neglected blackcurrant bushes are sprawling in all directions, overgrown with brambles, bracken, nettles and bindweed. Yet still they give abundantly, and we shall have jam and wine and currants in the freezer to enjoy for the rest of the year. My hands are scratched by brambles and my legs are stung by nettles, my shoulders turn red from the sun. Yet still I keep picking, just a few more, just a few more... and still there are enough for me, and the birds to enjoy.

Eventually the basket is full and I extricate myself from the thicket, thanking and blessing the bushes for their bounty. I make a mental note to give them a good pruning in the autumn, and tidy up all the brambles and other weeds that have grown up around them.

Wonderful, luxuriant blackcurrants that give so generously despite my neglect. Wonderful memories of childhood summers. Wonderful sunny afternoon of harvesting.

The Fifth Sacred Thing - The Movie

2011-06-12T11:32:00.002+01:00

I have long loved Starhawk's book 'The Fifth Sacred Thing'. And now I am so excited to hear there are plans afoot to make it into a film!

If you also love the book, you can keep up to date with the plans via Starhawk's blog, or on Facebook. And if you haven't read the book yet, I recommend it, especially as we seem to be moving closer to the world she envisions in it...

P.S. You can now make a donation (as big or small as you like) to help fund the film here.

Weird Stuff in Carmarthen

2011-06-08T19:34:00.011+01:00

I have written before that Carmarthen (my nearest town) is a quirky little town. When I saw some coracle fishermen on the River Towy yesterday, I thought perhaps it was time to post some photographic evidence of Carmarthen's unique features. So although I wasn't quick enough to photograph the coracles, here are some pictures of some of Carmarthen's quirkier landmarks.

This is 'The Big Hat' a version of which has hung in Carmarthen's Lammas Street since the 19th Century. This is its latest incarnation. The story of The Big Hat may be found here.

Carmarthen obviously has a thing for attaching random large objects to buildings, because there is also a Big Coffee Pot in Guildhall Square...

I find some of the graffitti to be quite creative (if odd)! Unless it's been painted over/scrubbed off, this can be found between Nott Square and Guildhall Square.

Nott Square is home to a statue of its namesake, General William Nott, as well as the entrance to Carmarthen castle.

At the other end of Nott Square, standing outside the 'Nomads' shop you will find George the giraffe, who became a local cause celebre when the local council tried to ban him for Health & Safety reasons. There was such an outcry that George was reinstated to his rightful place and is now safely chained to the front of the shop, in a compromise that satisfies both the over-anxious council and Carmarthen's giraffe lovers.

The King Morgan pharmacy at the top of King Street has been established for many, many years, and still displays antique pharmacy bottles & jars in its windows. The stained glass door, tiled floor and old wooden cabinets inside make you feel like you've stepped back in time. There is now a bridge leading from the railway station, across the River Towy to the town (Blue Street) that is named after the King Morgan family, who served the medical needs of the townspeople for many years.

This is the tower of St Peters church, the subject of a rather odd prophecy that I mentioned in my previous post about Carmarthen...

And here's a statue of Merlin himself, gracing the newly-named Merlin's Walk (formerly Greyfriars). Rather appropriately it's carved from a huge chunk of oak. I like it, though it caused a bit of consternation amongst some that a good Christian placename (Greyfriars) was being replaced with one with Pagan associations! Which just proves you can't please everyone. There's lots of details here about Merlin's long association with Carmarthen. I reckon he preceded the grey friars in their medieval monastery anyway!

There are other sights like the Roman Amphitheatre and Merlin's Hill that I haven't got around to photographing yet - look out for 'Weird Stuff in Carmarthen II' some time in the future!

Falling In Love Again

2011-06-05T23:54:00.001+01:00

A favourite cushion with an old vintage mirror that belonged to my Nanna

How quickly time passes. Only three years ago, I was still married - and oblivious to any hint of trouble. Now I have been divorced for over a year and a half, and my life is so different.

I am still at Halfway Up A Hill though, which when T first left, I never expected. I thought we would have to sell up and split the proceeds. Then, when we agreed that I could keep the house as part of the divorce settlement, I fully expected to sell up and move on anyway. Too many memories here.

Funny how things turn out, isn't it? With the collapse of the housing market, I resigned myself to staying put and just redecorating and smartening the place up for a couple of years until the economy picked up and I could sell. But over the past couple of years, I have started to see this familiar house with new eyes. By slowly, but surely putting my own mark on things, I have begun to fall in love with the place again. The painful memories are gradually being erased with each fresh coat of paint.

A handpainted dresser top that was picked up for a few pounds at a car boot sale. Along with some of my china and knick-knacks! Most of the china was passed down by my grandparents.

T's taste was fairly conventional and minimalist. Mine is more hippy-witchy-shabbychic-vintage-bohemian; definitely not minimalist. Now I am free to indulge those preferences without restraint! The interior - and exterior - of the house is beginning to reflect my tastes and personality as it never did before.

The lawn - once so carefully tended by T each weekend - has been declared a wildflower meadow. I prefer the look of all those flowers, and life is too short to spend it mowing! The overgrown flowerbed by the kitchen door has been tidied and planted up with roses, hardy geraniums and fuschia, and is now thronging with happy, busy bees. Pots of flourishing geraniums and herbs surround the back door with colour and fragrance. Suncatchers and windchimes dangle from every window, paintings and vases and lanterns and plants, new cushions and throws decorate the rooms. I have fun creating seasonal altars around the house and garden.

I LOVE my pantry door, which was made to measure by my very talented friend, Harry.

IB loves this house, and I am starting to love it once again. This weekend we have put up some wall cupboards that I have painted with a distressed finish in my favourite colours. In the dining room hearth, a 'new' (secondhand!) woodburning stove is waiting to be installed in readiness for next winter. I am planning to add a porch to the back door, and a forest garden down the hill...

The new woodburning stove, waiting to be 'plumbed in'.

I thought there were too many memories here for me to stay. But would they really have dispersed just by moving location? The memories are a part of me, a part of my story. The trick, I am beginning to learn, is to hold on to the best of the past, and let go of the grief and the anger. And in the meantime, go on, creating new memories as you fall in love with life once again.

Says it all.

Bread and Jam

2011-05-15T15:31:00.006+01:00

I have been extremely busy of late, as my lack of posts will testify. In the absence of a proper full-time job I have been taking on work as a domestic cleaner/gardener/odd job woman, and the last couple of weeks have been hectic as on top of my 'regulars' I have picked up a lot of one-off jobs as people want their homes spring cleaned or their gardens spruced up for the summer. I also continue to make and sell crafts, and last week every spare moment that I wasn't scrubbing bathrooms or trimming hedges I was frantically finishing off craft projects ready for the local Spring Fayre at which I had taken a stall, hoping to make a bit of extra cash.

By Saturday morning I was tired but well prepared, with everything neatly wrapped in newspaper and packed into boxes. As well as lots of hand-decorated candle jars, I had some pretty painted birdboxes, lacy-knit mohair shawls and I had planted up violas and busy lizzies into some old vintage tea cups that had lost their saucers and were about to be chucked by one of my house-cleaning clients until I rescued them. I was pretty pleased with my efforts and had high hopes things would sell well.

IB had kindly offered to come along and help me and we arrived in good time and set up the stall, which I was pleased to see faced the entrance so that my goodies would be the first thing people saw on entering. A very kind gentleman went back to his nearby home to get a few coathangers for me so that I could display my shawls to their best advantage.

Once the stall was prepared, I took a walk around to check out the other stalls, and chatted with my friend Jen and another friend I hadn't seen for a while. I bought a pretty hand-made birthday card for an upcoming birthday, a beautiful hardy geranium at a bargain price, and some tombola tickets (which unfortunately didn't win anything!). Then just before the doors opened to the public I grabbed us two cups of coffee from the friendly lady who was selling refreshments.

The first person to walk in was one of my neighbours, and we had a lovely chat catching up on the neighbourhood gossip. She was catching the bus home, so when she bought a large scented geranium plant I offered to mind it for her and drop it off when IB & I drove past her house on the way home later. My Mum and Dad also dropped by with a friend and were very pleased with some bargain tomato plants they snapped up - and I was pleased when their friend was my first customer, buying one of my candle jars as a gift for her daughter.

So far people were admiring my goodies but I had only made the one sale. Even so, I had been eyeing up the home made cakes and preserves on the next stall, so soon spent some of my earnings on a jar of marmalade and a yummy-looking lemon drizzle cake. The rest went on some vegetable plants from another neighbouring stall!

People were still coming in thick and fast and I was enjoying chatting with friends from the village that I hadn't seen for a while. One stall was selling locally made cheeses at bargain prices and the tasting samples were proving very popular! Once IB and I had tasted too, we realised why and of course had to buy some of the cheese. I also bagged a bargain photo frame which I spied across the hall on the bring and buy stall.

After the initial rush of people, it quietened down, although people were still coming and going. We had another cup of coffee and a cupcake, and chatted with the other stall holders. Once things had really quietened down, the lady running the tombola was keen to finish up, and went around the hall giving tickets away to anyone who wanted one, just to clear the remaining prizes. We won a bottle of bitter lemon and a very nice gift set of M&S toiletries - but not the bottle of whisky that IB had his eye on, which was eventually won by the vicar's 6 year old daughter (her Daddy took immediate custody of it)!

In the end, I sold only one other candle jar, which meant with all my purchases overall I was well out of pocket (despite not having to pay for the stall).

My hopes to sell plenty of things and make some money had been dashed. But then again, was it so bad? I spent an enjoyable day with IB, chatting with friends and meeting some lovely new people. I came away with some real bargains and treats - plants, gourmet cheese, marmalade and cake - and once again felt myself connected to my local community. So - not what I had expected, but perhaps what I needed.

Sometimes, we are so focussed on the daily bread and butter of making a living, we miss the jam - the quality time we spend with friends and family. We overlook the small pleasures of life like a beautiful flowering geranium or some tangy home-made marmalade. And we take for granted the immeasurable wealth of being part of a community.

Though I worry from day to day about my lack of income, today I am reminding myself that bread isn't everything. Without a little jam, it's pretty boring really.

Beltane Altar

2011-05-03T15:19:00.002+01:00

Beltane Blessings to one and all!

Lessons From A Cherry Tree

2011-04-25T08:49:00.000+01:00

From the bedroom window I can see petals falling. With every shifting breeze, a gentle shower of shell-pink confetti rains down. How gracefully the flowering cherry tree relinquishes her spring finery, a little at a time, like the slow ebbing of a tide.

No regret, no clinging on to past glory. No resentment, no cutting-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face wholesale dumping. Just a gentle shedding, releasing what no longer serves easily, willingly, naturally, open-heartedly.

I know that only change is constant, yet in my own life how often do I cling to what is outmoded because it's familiar? How often do I hang on to possessions I no longer need 'because it may come in useful one day', or because Great Aunt Mabel gave it to me and I feel guilty for not actually wanting it?

Someone once told me that a leaf only falls in the autumn when the bud of next year's leaf has formed below, ready to unfurl in the spring when conditions are right.

Am I preventing new growth in my life by clinging onto the past?

May I be like the cherry tree. Able to sense the shifts and changes in my life and move on without regret.

My Lawn is Full of Dandelions

2011-04-18T20:59:00.000+01:00

My lawn is full of dandelions.

Glowing in the sunlight, shivering in the breeze. My lawn is full of golden treasure...

The lawnmower died last summer, and the once-tidy green expanse outside my window suffered a series of disastrous patchy scalpings for the rest of the year as I struggled to tame it with the strimmer.

This spring I have not yet cut the grass, which has suddenly spurted into growth. It is beautiful, lush, green - thick with dandelions, daintily dotted with lady's smock and nodding cowslips.

My neighbour used to wage war on dandelions each spring, pulling them up and chopping them down in a furious and futile battle to contain their exuberance and stop them spreading little parachute-puff seeds far and wide.

My neighbour passed away. The dandelions nonchalantly survived her feverish assaults and have spread with joyous, reckless abandon.

Now bees bumble contentedly as they feast on the abundant, incandescent blooms, and swallows swoop, chattering gleefully in the blue spring sky.

I put the strimmer away, unused for another day, and go to lie among the dandelions in the warm, damp grass.

A Mediterranean Climate in Wales

2011-04-14T09:18:00.003+01:00

A couple of weekends ago, IB and I visited the National Botanic Garden of Wales, at Llanarthne near Carmarthen. Tucked away in the rolling hills of Carmarthenshire, this family friendly attraction is the most visited garden in Wales and has won a host of awards including Best Children’s Garden and Best Afternoon Tea.

It was a glorious, sunny spring day and the gardens were filled with spring flowers. Although the gardens are only just coming up for 11 years old, it is amazing how much there is to see. The jewel in the crown of the gardens is the Great Glasshouse, the largest single span glasshouse in the world. This houses a spectacular array of plants from regions around the world which enjoy a Mediterranean climate with hot dry summers and cool, moist winters. Plants from California, Australia, the Canary Islands, Chile, South Africa and the Mediterranean Basin are grouped in naturalistic plantings. Many of these plants are now threatened in their native habitats, and the Great Glasshouse is dedicated to their conservation. The windows of the glasshouse are controlled by a computer, opening and closing to keep the correct climate inside. The local birds have caught onto the advantages of being able to enter and leave the large, mild, climate-controlled environment at will, and the space is enlivened by their presence, perched in the branches of exotic trees and shrubs. And no doubt Dr Who fans will love the fact that the great glass house was used to film an episode of the popular series!

The National Botanic Garden of Wales is not only the most visited garden in Wales, it is also at the cutting edge of biodiversity studies. The current science programme focuses on conserving biodiversity in the UK. The Barcode Wales project, for example, will DNA barcode all the native plants of Wales. The barcodes can then be used in biodiversity conservation projects. In addition, the Welsh Rare Plants Project is conducting essential research in order to conserve some of the country’s most threatened species of flora.

The Garden also has great eco-credentials, using a reed bed system to deal with its sewage, building a greenhouse from plastic bottles, powering its land train with bio-diesel, and keeping rare breed sheep and cattle on a nature reserve. We loved the plastic bottle greenhouse and may emulate it if we can collect enough!

There's plenty for kids too - a 'Roots and Shoots Adventure Zone' (a willow play area with slides, climbing frames, tunnels and musical blocks), seasonal family activities (see the website for details) and weird and wonderful exhibits such as the biggest single span glasshouse in the world and bizarre plants that smell of toffee, chocolate and curry. When we visited there was a really interesting special exhibition on fungi, including a forest of giant mushrooms, which kids would have loved!

My other favourite parts of the garden include the gorgeous walled kitchen garden (envious sigh!), the herb garden and herb exhibition (which includes a replica old Victorian pharmacy), the truly beautiful and inspiring sunken bog garden (despite its unpromising name) and the bee garden which includes a hive webcam so you can see the bees in action from a safe distance!

All in all, I thoroughly recommend a visit to the gardens next time you are in West Wales.

Earth Hour

2011-03-26T12:34:00.003Z

Just a quick reminder that today at 8.30pm, many of us will be observing Earth Hour, by turning off our lights (and as many other electrical items as possible) for an hour. I wrote about this last year, and I shall be observing it again this year. Please join me!

Beautiful Spring

2011-03-26T12:23:00.001Z

ThriftWitch: The Pleasures of Foraging - Spring Herb Salad

2011-03-22T21:52:00.002Z

What could be more pleasurable on a mild spring day than wandering out in the garden to find something yummy to eat? The veggie patch may not yet have much to offer this early in the year, but it is still possible to put together a delicious salad by foraging for ingredients not only in the vegetable beds but also the herb garden, flower beds and the wild places.

Today's lunch consisted of mushroom, onion & cheese omelette (home produced eggs and onions) and a foraged Spring Herb Salad. The ingredients of this salad change every time I make it, because it all depends on what I can find. Today it consisted mostly of lamb's lettuce (aka corn salad) from the veggie patch, supplemented with tender young garlic mustard leaves (wild foraged), primrose and lungwort flowers (flower beds) and tender young sprigs of oregano, lemon balm and lemon thyme (herb garden). Other excellent ingredients used in previous salads have included chickweed, hairy bittercress (much nicer than it sounds - a bit like rocket), violet flowers and leaves, oriental salad leaves, fennel leaves, blanched dandelion leaves, cowslip flowers, ramsons, sorrel leaves - you get the picture. Of course later in the year, Summer Herb Salads have a far greater range of ingredients available, and it is lovely to experiment with flowers like day lilies, nasturtiums and calendula.

If you are sure of your plant knowledge, go ahead and experiment! If you are a little uncertain, a good book is Richard Mabey's classic 'Food for Free' which is enough to inspire even novice foragers with confidence, or Ken Fern's adventurous 'Plants for a Future'.

The key to a great Herb Salad is to ensure the bulk of the salad is composed of the milder flavoured leaves like lambs lettuce, chickweed, and violet leaves, and the stronger flavours like fennel, oregano, lemon balm and sorrel are used sparingly. Most flowers are bland in taste, but they do make it look pretty!

You can either serve the salad as is or add your favourite dressing. This is my favourite salad dressing:

Moonroot's Sesame and Garlic Salad Dressing
Mix 2 tbspn sesame oil with 1 tbspn balsamic vinegar. Add a pinch of sugar, a dash of soy sauce, a finely minced garlic clove and about quarter of a teaspoon of your favourite mustard. Stir until the mixture has emulsified, spoon it over your salad leaves and toss them in the mixture. Serve immediately.
Yum.

Good foraging!

Finding Balance in a Time of Chaos

2011-03-20T11:47:00.003Z

Today is the Spring Equinox, one of only two days in the year that day and night are of equal length. From today, days will be longer than nights, daily increasing their dominance until the Summer Solstice in June.

Today is a day to pause and consider balance and equipoise. Yet at the same time, even more extreme events than usual are occurring around the world. Revolution and disorder in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya and many other countries. Devastating earthquakes in New Zealand and Japan, leading (in Japan's case) to further chaos from first the tsunami and then the terrifying prospect of nuclear disaster. Financial crisis in country after country and the resulting job losses, inflation and devastating cuts in welfare for the most needy in our societies. All played out against a backdrop of unusual weather patterns and uncertainty.

Unsurprisingly, people are wondering what on earth is going on. Literally. The pragmatic blame the politicians, the bankers. Those of a more esoteric bent blame Uranus moving into Aries, or invoke 2012 prophecies to claim the end of the world is nigh. Conspiracy theorists mutter darkly about The New World Order and HAARP. The wackier end of the Christian spectrum claim in cruel self-righteousness that their vengeful God is smiting non-Christians. And just last night, many of us were holding our breath in wonder at a Full Moon closer to the Earth than she has been in 18 years and wondering, could that have anything to do with anything?

But who knows? None of us really. My own theories combine the pragmatic approach mentioned above, with a sprinkling of the esoteric - fused with the certainty that sometimes, shit just happens.

But when shit does happen, how do we cope? How do we find balance in a time of chaos and upheaval?

Ground. Take a deep breath and ground.

Grounding is a fundamental skill, one that we witches and Pagans talk about a lot. But quite frankly, we don't always walk our talk, or give grounding the attention and respect it deserves. After all, grounding - how dull is that, when you could be 'up there', bouncing off the stratosphere?

Well for one thing, bouncing off the stratosphere (or wherever you happen to be, astrally) turns out to be no fun whatsoever when you can't get back afterwards. Imagine a prolonged roller coaster ride. However much you love roller coasters, at some point you just want to feel your feet on the ground. Grounding properly first, before you enter a trance or attempt astral travel is essential.

However, grounding is also a useful skill for anyone to have in their tool kit. How often in times of crisis have you made rushed, foolish decisions because your head has been in such a whirl? How would you like to feel calm and steady instead of stressed out by the day's events? How good would it be to feel that you are approaching problems and times of difficulty from a stable place?

There are many ways of grounding, but one basic way that you can practice virtually anywhere is this. Take a deep breath in and out. Take a moment to really concentrate on sensing your body and its edges. It may help to run your hands briskly over your body - arms, shoulders, head, torso, legs - to really feel those edges and remind yourself that this is you, this is where you are right now. Breathe deeply in and out, and feel your feet firmly planted on the earth, feel that connection. Know that you are a part of the earth. Imagine roots growing from the soles of your feet into the earth, keeping you grounded, stable, connected. Breathe deeply in and out. Remember that connection. Then bring the roots back into your feet, knowing all the while you are connected to and supported by the earth.

Some people absorb energy from the earth in this way. If at any time you feel you have a surfeit of energy and feel too 'buzzy' you can return any excess by putting your hands on the earth and sending it back. If this is not feasible (because you're in the supermarket check out queue for example!), try consciously exhaling the excess on a slow, gentle outbreath.

Practice grounding. Don't beat yourself up if it's difficult to start with. We all have different skills and strengths, and grounding, like any skill gets easier with practice. You will also be able to do it more quickly. The true skill is to be able to ground quickly, even in the midst of chaos, panic or emotional distress. If you practice grounding regularly when you don't need it, you will be able to ground easily when you most need it.

It may help to take time to notice how you feel when you are grounded and relate this to a word, a musical note, a colour or a scent (or you could combine these by visualising the word written in your grounded colour. Or sung to your grounded musical note. Or visualise your grounded colour whilst calling up a sense memory of your grounded scent). With practice your word/note/colour/scent can become a shortcut to the feeling of 'grounded', and that can help get you there almost on autopilot.

I wish you a balanced and harmonious Equinox. As the year tips toward summer, may we find our feet firmly planted on the ground, even if our heads are in the stars.

Look Out Edward Woodward...

2011-03-13T19:12:00.002Z

I have a confession to make. The last couple of years, my garden has been a bit of a disaster. Well, maybe 'disaster' is an overstatement, but it certainly hasn't been the picture of abundance and productivity I would like it to be.

I can blame some of this on the weather, which has been all over the place - unseasonably warm/dry/cool/wet in varying combinations, but to be perfectly honest it is my neglect of the garden that has really let things slip. To start with, after T left I was in a bit of a slump and just couldn't summon the energy or enthusiasm to do much in the garden. And then when IB appeared on the scene, well, I was having too much fun to concern myself with weeding or watering or mulching...

We did make a good start last year by preparing the garden well over the winter in preparation for the spring, but we lost momentum and the weeds took over. A few things did well - the onions and parsnips were pretty good - but for the most part it was a bit of a damp squib.

This year we are determined to do better. We have spent hours pondering over seed packets and planning. We have laboriously weeded the veggie patch, spread compost and mulched to keep the weeds at bay until we are ready to plant. We have already sown a few early crops in the greenhouse. Today was beautifully warm and sunny, and the two of us have been working hard. It is lovely to feel the sun on your back, your hands in the earth. The chickens bustled around on the grass, the birds sang, the cats looked at us as if we had lost our minds (why work when you could be sunning yourself against the hedge?).

We have now sown broad beans and turnips, and planted out the onion sets. Trays of compost sown with tomatoes and chilis are germinating in the airing cupboard. And we have packets and packets of seeds ready to sow over the next few weeks - brussels sprouts, lettuce, radish, mange touts, parsnips, carrots, beetroot, peas, calendula, cauliflower, kale, broccoli, chard, then beans (french and runner), courgettes, nasturtiums, squash, sweetcorn, pumpkin, pak choi... And of course, there will be potatoes.

We are fired with enthusiasm and determined this year's harvest will be one to remember. As IB says, if after all this hard work things still aren't up to scratch, the only thing for it is to find a policeman, a big wicker basket and some matches...

ThriftWitch: Magical Transformations

2011-03-06T19:47:00.002Z

As I confessed in my original ThrftWitch post, I am an inveterate hoarder. This stems from my desire to find ways of re-using, repairing, re-making things. This woman's treasure is often someone else's trash! The downside of this is of course that more often than not I have more ideas than time to put them into practice - which can make for an untidy house. The upside is the sense of achievement gained when something is transformed from useless waste into something that is either useful or beautiful - or both.

Here are a few of my favourite transformations:

This first piece is a mirror I made from some driftwood I found whilst beach combing. The weathered wood was joined together in a criss-cross pattern by nails that had a wonderful patina from their time in the sea. I saw its potential immediately and used it as a frame for a mirror, finished off with a scattering of seashells and some twisted wire to hang it. It was one of the first things I made and it's still one of my favourites.

These are tea-light holders I made from old jars and they are used to denote the five elements (Earth, Air, Fire Water and Spirit) whenever our local Pagan group gets together for a ritual. They are particularly useful when we're working outdoors as they keep the candle flames from being extinguished by the wind! In this case I knew what I wanted and looked around to find suitable candidates for the job. They are simple, but I'm surprised how good they look as a group, and they have certainly had a lot of use. In fact they have been such a success I'm thinking about making some for my Etsy shop soon.

This final item is where the real 'Witchery' comes in. It's a sun catcher that throws beautiful rainbows around my bedroom, and it was made with magical intent. Just after T and I had split up, I took some bottles and jars to the local recycling centre. As I went to tip them into the skip, I saw the broken stem of a lead-crystal wineglass already in there - and of course my magpie instincts kicked in and I 'rescued' it. I was feeling pretty much thrown on the scrap heap myself at the time, and I loved the idea of taking this fragile, discarded piece of broken crystal and giving it a new start. With the magical intention of forging a new start for myself and making something beautiful to symbolise hope, I transformed it into a sun catcher. First I encased the jagged ends in thick foil to neaten them and avoid cut fingers. Then I wrapped jewellery wire around the crystal so it could be hung, and added some extra dangly bits using beads and findings from my 'broken jewellery' stash, and a smaller crystal from a broken chandelier that was waiting around to be re-used.

Now every time the sun catcher scatters rainbows on my bedroom wall it makes me smile. The crystal and I have both had a fresh start, a second chance at life. And we are determined to enjoy it.

Spring Chickens

2011-03-03T21:20:00.003Z

Morag, eavesdropping

It was a glorious, early spring day at Halfway Up A Hill. Crocus opened wide faces to the sun, so warm after the long, cold winter. A brave, early honey bee bustled amongst the thick clumps of snowdrops. Nesting birds sang songs of spring.

While the humans worked in the greenhouse, the chickens wandered nearby.

Dot, Daisy and Blodeuwedd gossiped companionably as they sauntered, nibbling at the grass.

Misty spread her wings, sighed, and settled down to a blissful sunbathing session.

Perched on the disused cold frame, Morag eavesdropped on Bella and Blodwen as the two elderly hens reminisced, chuckling together about how Bella had played a trick on the humans last year by hiding in this very spot.

Bella and Blodwen, reminiscing

In a pool of sunshine, Ceridwen and Blossom practiced the Charleston together, finding to their delight that their dance steps had the side benefit of turning up juicy insects and other gourmet treats hidden in the grass.

Ceridwen, dancing

What better way to celebrate the welcome arrival of Spring?

Blossom, scoffing

Valentines Day, Past and Present

2011-02-14T21:37:00.004Z

How times change. Three years ago today, I wrote on the blog about how T had proposed to me 17 years earlier. I remember showing him the post, expecting him to be pleased, touched by it. His reaction was to say gruffly that it was nice - I thought perhaps I had embarrassed him. With the benefit of hindsight I now see his taciturn response was actually guilt. While I was writing nice things about him on my blog, he was secretly conducting an affair. Even so, I received a Valentine card and flowers from him as usual.

A year later, by then all too aware of T's infidelity I wrote about how painful I found Valentine's Day 2009. It was unbearable to remember how I had received that card, those flowers a year earlier, believing them to be genuine tokens of love. It was unbearable to think that as I had been receiving them, another woman had also been receiving love tokens from T. It was unbearable that the card and flowers he sent me had been merely a smokescreen to avoid arousing suspicion, unbearable that I was completely unaware that his true feelings were for someone else. It was unbearable that this someone else knew all about me whilst I remained in blissful ignorance of her existence. It was unbearable that I had been treated like a fool by someone I believed I could truly trust.

Last year I didn't post anything about Valentine's Day. I was struggling with a difficult job, awful weather, and a debilitating chest infection. Yet Valentine's Day had become a source of pleasure, not pain. I received a card, chocolates, flowers. But this time from IB.

I have sometimes shied away from writing too much about IB on the blog. There is a part of me that feels guilty that I have found happiness and love again, so quickly. I never expected to. I worry that others will judge me for moving on so quickly, or believe that this is merely the infamous 'rebound'. I have worried about this myself. And yet... nearly two years since we started seeing each other we are still together. Sometimes he drives me crazy (sometimes I drive him crazy!), yet he can always make me laugh. He is always ready to talk things out, so that our understanding of each other grows and our love deepens. He is hard working, patient, kind, funny, caring. He is affectionate and loving. He understands me. Somehow we just fit together in a way I have never fitted with anyone else.

Today I received a beautiful card. Today we worked together in the greenhouse, clearing it out and cleaning the panes to let the light shine in, planting some early crops. This evening he cooked me a delicious dinner and now we snuggle together on the sofa. Things have changed so much over the last few years. But now, at last, I can relax. I know I am in the right place, with the right person. Perhaps this is where I was meant to be all along.

February Days

2011-02-10T23:07:00.000Z

Just a few things that have caught my eye of late...

I Love My Blog!

2011-02-03T09:02:00.003Z

Today is the anniversary of my very first blog post on 'Moonroot', back in February 2007. I had set up the blog and then found I hadn't a clue what to write about. So in time-honoured fashion, I chatted about the weather! I began just writing about my daily life, and gradually found my voice. It was so heartening to find that people were leaving comments and enjoying the blog.

I myself was greatly enjoying it. I had always kept journals, albeit somewhat patchily. Sometimes I would even buy a beautiful new journal but not write in it, anxious about despoiling the clean new pages, waiting to start 'until I had something worthwhile to say'. Since starting my blog, I still keep hand-written journals, but something about the process of blogging has freed up my journalling. I no longer worry about having to write an entry every day, I write when I want to. And somehow I want to write more. I don't worry about the state of my handwriting, or the crossings out or smudges, or even the tear stains that occasionally mark the pages. This is journalling as it should be, life on paper.

Blogging has also encouraged me in other directions. Buoyed up by the kind comments others have left here I have taken a couple of writing courses, which have been both fun and educational. I have also become enthused by digital photography - having started taking photos merely to illustrate the blog and make it more interesting I now carry a camera with me everywhere, snapping away whenever I find inspiration, and learning by trial and error what works and what doesn't!

I have also 'met' lots of lovely people via the blog and found great joy in reading their blogs in turn. There is such a flowering of creative talent in the blogosphere! And these same people have been so kind and supportive to me in times of difficulty - most notably, of course, during my recent divorce. Thank you all so much. You have no idea how much you helped me in those dark days.

Sometimes people ask me why I blog and it is hard to come up with a short answer. But for all the reasons listed above, I love my blog. And I suppose above all, that is why I keep blogging!

Yep - 'Once'

2011-02-01T09:20:00.000Z

And just a quick recommendation for my friend Al Chan's latest project. He has teamed up with Mark Caputo as 'Yep' and their debut album 'Once' is released today. You can read all about it, listen to some tracks and download it from here.

Al was kind enough to play us a few sneak preview tracks when we were over in San Francisco. I loved it, and I hope lots of other people will too!

Brigid Poetry Festival 2011

2011-02-01T08:54:00.003Z

Here is my offering for this year's Poetry Festival in honour of Brigid.

To all that is brief and fragile

superficial, unstable,

To all that

lacks foundation

argument or principles;

To all that is light,

fleeting, changing, finite

To smoke spirals,

wand roses,

To sea foam

and mists of oblivion...

To all that is light in weight

for itinerants

on this transient earth

Somber, raving,

with transitory words

and vaporous bubbly wines

I toast

in breakable glasses.

~Maria Eugenia Baz Ferreira

Question

2011-01-29T14:09:00.001Z

Psychic attack is something I've never really worried about. Firstly, why would anyone consider me important enough to put all that effort into attacking me? And secondly - does it even happen or is it all paranoid fantasy?

Yet I was just reading about psychic protection and it mentioned that someone sending negative energy your way - either unconsciously or intentionally - can leave you prone to accidents, illness, exhaustion, unease and a feeling of being out of balance. And what really struck me is that this describes exactly what I was feeling during early summer 2007 until August 2008. That was the period during which - unknown to me - T was having an affair, right up until he left. After he left, I was naturally in shock, feeling grief, anger and depression. Yet looking back, that was also about the time the feeling of being out of balance with the Universe dissipated.

I don't want to be paranoid, or jump to conclusions - after all, sometimes a dead frog is just a dead frog, right? But could T's mistress have been directing malicious thoughts at me - intentionally or not? Or T himself? Or was my life just naturally out of kilter because my marriage was teetering over a precipice I wasn't aware of?

I'm pondering. And I'd love to hear any thoughts you may have on the matter.

Reminder: 6th Annual Brigid Poetry Festival

2011-01-26T08:42:00.000Z

Feel free to copy the following to your blog/facebook/website and spread the word. Let poetry bless the blogosphere once again!

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

WHEN: Anytime between now and Brigid's Feast Day, February 1, 2011

WHERE: Your blog

WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid

HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 1st.

RSVP: If you plan to publish, there is now a Facebook Community page for the event. If you post a poem on your blog, please share the link on the community page so we can all go there and read it. If you don’t have a blog or website of your own, go ahead and post your poem in its entirety to the community page.

Feel free to spread this invitation across the blogosphere!

Thanks to Reya, Deborah and Anne for their vision and hard work in initiating and maintaining this tradition.

ThriftWitch: The Magic of Soup

2011-01-23T17:37:00.005Z

Following my last post, my friend Harlequin asked if I would be writing about the magical uses of soup. I hadn't planned to, but his question got me thinking...

The first thought that sprang to mind was the choice of ingredients. You could choose the ingredients of your soup according to the energies you wish to induce in yourself and your fellow diners. You could for example choose earthy, grounding ingredients like root vegetables and tubers - carrots, turnips, swede, parsnips, potatoes, beetroot or Jerusalem artichokes (though you may wish to take Jafion's advice from the comments on my last post if you choose these!) - to make a 'grounding' soup. This could be a useful dish following a very trance-y ritual or demanding pathworking or spellworking. On the other hand, a light, spicy soup featuring ginger, chili, paprika etc could be used to increase energy levels. Or how about a healing soup, rich in fresh green veggies, garlic and herbs?

Your choice of herbs could be made according to their magical properties. For example thyme is ruled by Venus, so you may wish to include it as an ingredient for the soup you'll eat with your lover, or as part of your Valentine's Day meal.

You could also tailor ingredients according to what is being celebrated at the time of year. I think a creamy, pale coloured soup like curried parsnip or leek and potato would be ideal for Imbolc, and your Lammas soup could contain seasonal ingredients like tomatoes, along with barley and a sprinkling of poppy seeds to celebrate the grain harvest. It goes without saying that the obvious dish for Samhain is pumpkin soup!

There is also the intent that goes into creating the soup. Chop and prepare the ingredients mindfully, giving thanks for the abundance that feeds you. Meditate on that which you wish to increase or bring into your life whilst stirring the pot deosil (clockwise, the direction of the sun in the sky - in the Northern Hemisphere anyway - the direction of growth), or stir widdershins (anticlockwise) whilst meditating on that which you wish to banish (say, illness - or excess weight!). Say a few words of thanks - silent or aloud - before eating.

In my family, we all used to take turns stirring our wishes into the Christmas Pudding during its preparation. This idea works with many dishes, including soup! So if the soup is to be made for a group gathering or celebration, each person could take a turn stirring the pot and adding a few words of blessing for the group over it. That would be a potent brew!

For me, one of the 'magical' aspects of cooking is the way ingredients come together synergistically, creating something which is more than the sum of its parts. I kind of touched on that idea in this post. Soup is an especially good metaphor for this kind of magic given the diversity of ingredients and the way they blend together (particularly in a cream soup).

Finally, when you have finished your magical meal, what about a spot of divination? It was Reya who first taught me soup bowl divination - thank you Reya! After your meal, gaze into your soup bowl. Rather like reading the tea leaves, you should find that the patterns left behind by the interaction of spoon and soup dregs (with a little squinting) resolve themselves into symbols that can be interpreted as you see fit. Like most forms of divination, it's often easier to read for another than for yourself. And of course, it goes without saying that deliberate manipulation of soup dregs is cheating!

Happy soup making!

ThriftWitch: In Praise of Soup

2011-01-15T17:26:00.009Z

My reluctance to throw away anything potentially useful extends to leftover food. Yesterday's leftover mashed potato can become the topping for today's shepherd's pie, or the basis for bubble and squeak. Leftover baked beans get chucked into a chilli. Bruised or over-ripe bananas make a great cake. When the local council finally got around to providing us with a 'food waste' bin to put leftover food in for recycling, I was at a bit of a loss. I wanted to support the recycling initiative, but the fact is, I don't have any food waste. Between re-using leftovers myself, the compost heap, the cats, the chickens and the bird table, there is nothing left for the council to recycle. At the moment, the bin sits forlornly outside the back door with a pot of herbs perched on it. I expect sooner or later I'll find a use for it...

In the meantime, one of my favourite uses for food leftovers is soup. Ah, soup! Thrifty, warming, soothing, comforting! The perfect cold weather food. Here is my basic ThriftWitch soup recipe which can be adapted to which ever leftovers you have to hand.

Fry up some chopped onions and garlic in a little olive oil and butter until they are soft. For a spicy soup (optional), throw in your spices of choice (e.g. cumin [ground or seeds], curry powder, chilli, paprika, turmeric - whatever you like the taste of) and fry briefly. Put in your leftover veggies and/or meat, stir well and cover in stock (I use vegetable stock as IB is vegetarian and I'm not a big fan of meat in soups, but your choice of stock is up to you). You can use stock cubes for convenience, or make your own stock*. You can add additional veggies at this stage - carrots, celery, leeks, turnips etc are good additions. Add extra potatoes if you like a thick, hearty soup. Or lentils, or barley, or any other pulses you may have to hand. Soup is a great way to use up pumpkin-inners after your carving efforts at Samhain (I like to make a spicy pumpkin and tomato soup with warming spices like cumin, chilli and ginger as I find pumpkin a bit bland)! You can experiment at this stage with herbs too**. Bring to the boil and then simmer until all is tender and you're hungry. Taste and adjust seasoning - salt, pepper, spices. At this stage I often blend the soup in the food processor, as I prefer a smooth, creamy textured soup. As a final touch, you can swirl in some cream or a dollop of yoghurt. And voila. It really is that easy. And cheap. And it will taste way better than any soup out of a tin.

* Basic vegetable stock recipe - simmer onions, garlic (if liked), carrots, celery, leeks and a bay leaf or two in water. Season. Strain. Use immediately or freeze in batches for future use. If you want a meaty stock you can add the leftovers of your roast chicken (including the bones), or a ham bone, or whatever.

** As a rough guide, basil, thyme, oregano, marjoram etc go well with Mediterranean type ingredients (tomatoes, peppers, aubergines). I like curry spices (including garam masala) with creamy parsnip soup. Rosemary and garlic would be nice with a chicken soup. Fennel is traditionally used with fish. Thai spices (red curry paste, lemongrass, coriander etc) would be good with a light vegetable and noodle consomme. Savory is traditionally used with beans. But don't forget to experiment - that's half the fun. The key is to add a little first, stir and taste. Then you can add more if necessary. It is easier to add flavours than to take them away!

Troubleshooting soup tips:
If it's too salty, add a chopped potato or two. As they cook, they'll absorb some of the salt. You can also add extra water.
If it's too spicy, add some creamed coconut or some yoghurt, milk or cream.
If it seems to lack 'oomph' or tastes a bit bland, some good extra additions include a splash of soy sauce, or tabasco, or wine, or a squirt of tomato puree. Or maybe an extra stock cube (though this will increase the saltiness too).
Try not to overdo it with strong tasting ingredients such as parsnips, unless you want them to be the main flavour - if you're aiming for a mixed vegetable soup, too many parsnips could overwhelm more subtle flavours.
If you plan to add cream or yoghurt, wait until the end of cooking when the soup has been taken off the heat, or it may curdle.

Drip, Drip, Drip...

2010-12-28T19:59:00.001Z

The sound of dripping trees, birdsong and running water.

Fog hangs in the air like a pall of gunsmoke. The crushed grass bears testament to the great battle that occurred overnight.

The Snow Queen's mantle lies in tatters as she retreats - for now.

Deep and Crisp and Even

2010-12-26T15:41:00.001Z

The Snow Queen has spread her mantle over the hills.

Thick snow, piled deep on a silent world. A world of beauty, the soft, round drifts at odds with the harshness of bitter cold. No owl quavers, no fox screams. Only the tracks left in the snow betray signs of life.

I trust that under the snow, snowdrop, crocus and narcissus dream the first faint stirrings of spring. For now all is quiet, all is still, all is frozen.

I feed the birds. I watch the sky, praying for a thaw, waiting for the days to lengthen. The Snow Queen is beautiful, but she is without mercy.

Wishing the Arctic Well: A Spell of Healing and Transformation

2010-12-23T12:04:00.004Z

Image ©Donald Engstrom-Reese 2010

My friend Donald Engstrom-Reese is inviting people to join him in a spell-working to support the Polar Bear and other inhabitants of the Arctic, who are threatened by the pressures on their unique eco-system.

For more information, please follow this link: http://web.me.com/iowariver/Walking_in_Beauty/Blog/Entries/2010/12/16_Wishing_the_Arctic_Well.html.

The spellworking officially began on the Winter Solstice, but you can join in at any time.

Many thanks for your help - and spread the word!

Peace & Yule Blessings.

ThriftWitch: The Clean Start Soap Spell

2010-12-17T18:38:00.001Z

Do you know which kinds of spell I hate? The kind which say, 'On the full moon, take some powdered frankincense, a quartz crystal and three black feathers and place them in a velvet pouch. Go to a secluded place and bury them, whilst chanting: "Love be mine, love divine, come to me and we'll be fine". Walk away without looking back. You will meet your soulmate within a month.'.

I mean, huh? How does that work? Why would that work? (not to mention the godawful sub-greeting card rhymes that are inevitably integral to the process)

Actually, as a witch, I do very few spells. In my experience, it's usually way easier to take the mundane route to getting what you want than the magical. Like all those daft movies where the gorgeous teen witch absent-mindedly stirs her coffee by 'magic' rather than by hand? Or she floats or balances a pencil? Seriously, can you imagine how much psychic power it would take to do that? Why on earth doesn't she just stir the damn drink by hand and if she really has the power to effortlessly move objects with her mind, why isn't she using it to do something that's not utterly pointless?

Plus magic - like water or electricity - tends to take the path of least resistance, meaning that it's almost certain that the spell won't work out the way you planned. And believe me, that leaves plenty of scope for misfires, unforseen consequences and complications (yes, that was the older but wiser voice of experience speaking).

Even so, I think there are times to use magic, when appropriate. Sometimes the Universe needs a little nudge. More often than not, it's about re-setting our own psyches, moving the energy, opening up possibilities. Although I made up the the sample spell above, it's pretty typical of much of the stuff bandied about as 'magic'. And I don't for one minute believe 99.9% of those types of spell work, for one very good reason: your psyche wouldn't understand a word of it. The 'ingredients' used in a spell are there to tweak at your psyche, your subconscious (and perhaps thereby the collective unconscious or even the fabric of reality), but if your subconscious can't understand what's being said, that's where it'll end.

The ingredients are really just symbols, for symbols are the language of the subconscious (all the better of course, if those symbols seduce the subconscious with their colour, scent, taste, texture). Frankincense, quartz crystal and black feathers may mean one thing to the person creating the spell, but they may mean something completely different to you. Frankincense may mean 'higher spiritual connection' to the spell-originator, but to you - if you had a very oppressive religious upbringing for example - frankincense may speak to your subconscious of repression, guilt, fear, anger... not exactly the things you would want to be musing on (even subconsciously) whilst trying to conjure a soulmate. Some ingredients/symbols, such as rose petals for example, have such a widely accepted connection with love and pleasure, that it's no wonder they appear often in love spells. Yet how many people would have the same subconscious knowledge of the symbolism of yarrow, say, or thyme, or comfrey? Most likely they would all have different interpretations - and many may never have come across less common ingredients like yarrow before. No wonder our subconscious is bamboozled and the spell fails to work as planned.

The spells I like are grounded in reality (if it's possible to say that about a subject like magic). I like symbolic actions carried out mindfully, the kind of thing that says to my subconscious (and the Universe), "I am opening up space for the possibility of [insert desired outcome here] to happen."

For example, almost two years ago I wrote about vigorously cleaning the house on New Year's Eve and then spending New Year's Day focussing on the things I wanted to draw into my life, to change my luck after a horrible year in which my marriage had ended. Lo and behold, the new year did indeed change my life for the better as my heart began to heal, I achieved some long-cherished ambitions, and much to my surprise, fell in love again.

The Clean Start Soap Spell runs along similar lines. I have been doing this for the last couple of years, and although it originated in my desire to not waste things (soap!), in doing it mindfully, it has become an act of magic (which as Dion Fortune famously said, is after all, 'The art of changing consciousness at will').

The Clean Start Soap Spell

This is a spell I do over the course of a year, though you could adapt it to a different time period to suit your own circumstances. I begin afresh on 1st January, and quite simply each time I get to the last sliver of a bar of soap throughout the year, I put it in a drawstring muslin bag on the bathroom shelf. Personally, I like to suit the soap to the season, so in winter I may have a warming cinnamon and orange scented one, then a floral for spring, maybe coconut for my summer holiday and vetivert or patchouli for autumn... As the year progresses the muslin bag fills with aromatic slivers that each bring back vivid scent-memories of the past months. And then, towards the end of December (I judge this by eye, depending how full the muslin bag is) I begin to use the muslin bag to wash myself in the shower instead of a fresh bar of soap. The idea is that as we approach the end of the year, I am re-visiting and integrating the experiences of the last 12 months. It's pretty effective, as of course scent is a great catalyst to memory. It is also symbolic of washing away the last vestiges of the old to make way for the new. The important thing is to time it so that the last of the soap dissolves away on New Year's Eve. And then of course, a carefully chosen, fresh new bar can be unwrapped on New Year's Day, and the spell begins for another cycle. You could of course choose a different start/end date, your birthday perhaps, or maybe Samhain or some other significant date. You could even choose a different time period than a year, perhaps stretching the process over a period of difficulty (such as medical treatment, a legal battle or time of emotional upheaval) so that you can finally wash it all away as the period comes to a close.

I also recommend the cleaning the house on New Year's Eve/mindfully choosing your activities on New Year's Day spell. It certainly starts the year on a good note!

P.S. I have to confess I am particularly fond of the soaps produced by Lush, although local West Wales company The Soap Shed have some delicious products too.

ThriftWitch

2010-12-13T17:34:00.001Z

I can't help it. I just hate seeing anything going to waste. Perhaps it's the influence of grandparents who lived through the Great Depression of the 1930's followed by the austerity and rationing of the War years, and parents who were born just before the advent of the Second World War.

Both my Grandmothers were (and my Mum is) great advocates of making do and mending, preserving food during times of abundance to keep for the 'hard times', making inventive new meals from left overs, scraping every last smear of jam from the jar, squirrelling away safety pins and rubber bands and lengths of string; or scraps of ribbon or lace or fabric to 'make things over'. None of them would have dreamed of throwing away today's cold, leftover veg which could be transformed into tomorrow's bubble & squeak, or soup, or casserole. Each of them had a 'button box' to store buttons cut from old garments (themselves usually handed down, passed on, restyled or - if they were beyond redemption - used as rags). I used to love playing with the contents of the button boxes, sorting their shiny contents into colours, or shapes, or sizes.

Somewhere along the line, this behaviour rubbed off on me, and I too love being inventive with leftovers, I have my own stashes of pins, string, fabric and rubber bands, and even my own button box. I look hard at things before chucking them to see if they have a possible chance at re-use, and recycling has become second nature.

Sometimes that's a good thing. I can feel pretty good about my minimal contributions to landfill sites and my habit of only buying a replacement for something when it dies completely must have saved me quite a fair amount of money over the years. On the other hand it does also result in gluts of jams and chutneys, I'm usually at least 5 years out of date with gadgets (mobile phone the size of a house brick, anyone?), and well, yes, I am a terrible hoarder. With a cry of 'That will come in useful one day!' my cupboards (and drawers, and the outbuildings, and the garage) soon fill up, and it is oh so hard to contemplate throwing any of it away because, well - you never know when it might come in handy.

Like most things in life, there must be balance. It is one thing to save yourself money and save the planet from drowning in consumables, yet it is quite another to find yourself overwhelmed by boxes of 'stuff that might come in useful one day'. My own challenge seems to be in keeping the hoarding instinct under control. Now that T has removed all the things he wants from the house, I need to take a deep breath and start sorting out what is left into what is truly loved, needed and/or useful and that which is merely taking up space. I suspect the local charity shops will soon get very sick of seeing me arrive with yet another box of donations for them to re-home, and at some point I may even get really ruthless and make a trip or two to the local dump.

On the other hand, I don't want to totally lose the thrifty habit. It's good for my bank balance and it's good for the planet when I reduce, reuse, repair, repurpose, recycle. And I still love playing with the contents of the button box occasionally!

In these cash-strapped times, I thought it may even be useful to pass on a few thrifty ideas via the blog. These will be many and assorted, ranging from ideas for re-using things and materials, to recipes and even spells. I'll label each with the tag 'ThriftWitch' so you can find them easily.

My first ThriftWitch tip will be 'The Clean Start Soap Spell' appearing in the next day or so. Stay tuned!

Fog and Ice and Gratitude

2010-12-04T17:05:00.002Z

A new skyline on this day of fog and ice. The world ends across the valley, distant hills erased by fog. Sounds speak of life continuing 'out there' - a barking dog, a tractor, jackdaws - yet my eyes tell me the world is much smaller today.

Sheet ice covers the ground, even the chickens are slipping and sliding around. I walk intently, bent like an old woman, testing each step before carefully chancing my weight on it.

Cold, damp air chills my bones.

Yet the house is warm, the fire is lit, and my love and the cats await me. I count my blessings.

Blatant Advertising!

2010-11-28T20:34:00.000Z

OK, here's a blatant advert: it's cold outside and I have some lovely cosy knitted items in my Etsy shop (along with other tempting goodies). Go see! Thank you.

When is a Dead Frog Just a Dead Frog?

2010-11-24T09:57:00.003Z

Detail from an altar at the Spiral Dance

A few years back, in the days leading up to my initiation, I was set a series of preparatory meditations and cleansing practices. One of these was to go to a local beach to cleanse and purify myself. As it was a particularly blustery day in March this turned out to be no gentle shoreline cleansing but a fierce sand-blasting by the elements. As I began the return journey, I was feeling positively scoured clean, and ready for the next stage. And then I saw them. First one, then another, then more and more. Dead frogs of all sizes, the corpses quite dried out and dessicated, were scattered along the pavement and in the gutter. Part of my mind was occupied with thoughts of the upcoming initiation, but part was bewildered. Why so many dead frogs, here, now? Had there been a plague of frogs in this small seaside village? Had they spawned and then met some grisly end? Poisoned by something? Run over? Frozen? Drowned? Can a frog drown? No one else seemed to have noticed. I walked on, puzzled.

Later, I checked on the lore and symbolism of frogs. They are creatures of earth and water (the two elements I resonate with most strongly). Due to their life cycle, from spawn to tadpole to frog, in many cultures they represent change and rebirth. Frogs seemed to be creatures I could have a connection to – and my eye was drawn back to the sentence about rebirth. In the days leading up to my initiation, a rite of passage symbolising the death of the old self and rebirth of the new, was it mere coincidence that an abundance of frogs – dead frogs – had crossed my path?

More recently, I was at my friend S’s house preparing, along with others, for the initiation of another friend. A couple of us were cleaning and tidying the space in readiness for the ritual, when we discovered the dessicated corpse of a frog under some shelves. We checked with S that it wasn’t a precious magical or ritual object (cue for many jokes about only having to ask such questions in a fellow Witch’s home!). It wasn’t – merely the hitherto undiscovered grisly relic of a hunting trip by S’s cat. Yet I noted the strange coincidence. Initiation. Dead frog, symbol of death and rebirth. Again.

My own initiation marked the onset of a period in my life where everything that could go wrong, went wrong. My health suffered, and I felt like for some reason I was out of step with the Universe. This period culminated in the end of my marriage, and a huge re-examination of my Self. And then, one evening last summer, just as I finally felt truly back in harmony with the Universe, another piece of frog magic occurred. Going out to shut the chickens away, something made me look up at the garden wall as I passed. There, at eye-level with me, was the biggest, healthiest looking frog I’ve ever seen. We regarded each other for a few seconds, until I quietly said, ‘Thank you.’ Then the frog jumped over the wall and disappeared.

I do think some part of me died and was reborn at my initiation. I think somehow, somewhere, my life had gone off-track without me even noticing. I think the Universe gave me gentle and some not-so-gentle signs and nudges to get me back on the right track. And I think the frogs - dead and alive - were part of that, a sign or message about the death and then rebirth of the self. Or at least a damn strange coincidence.

I have mentioned on this blog before now the notion of being predicted by the weather – the fact that sometimes, the weather seems to reflect our inner moods. Or are our inner moods subtly coloured by the weather without our realising it? The trouble with messages from the Universe is they can be so hard to spot in amongst ordinary day to day events. Another potential pitfall is that sometimes, we may be looking for a message when actually, there isn’t one. Sometimes a flat tyre may be telling us something profound about our journey through life. And sometimes it’s just a bloody nuisance. Sometimes, the Universe does have a message for us. But sometimes, shit just happens. The question is, when is a dead (or live) frog a message from the Universe? And when is a dead frog just a dead frog? How can we tell?

This is what I think. I think we live in an amazing and interactive Universe that speaks to us all the time. I think sometimes we hear, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we misunderstand, or only hear what we want to. I didn't notice how out-of-tune my life had got - the Universe tried sending me gentle hints, then glaringly obvious symbolism (dead frogs) then finally had to whack me over the head with stress-related exhaustion, illness, misfortune and the end of my marriage. I can be a slow learner, but I got it in the end. How much simpler, though, if I'd been listening in the first place.

The trick is to hone our listening skills. Tune in. Listen carefully. Notice coincidence and serendipity when they occur. Use the divination methods that work for you. Ask Reya's useful question, 'If this was a dream, what would it mean?'. Trust your intuition, your gut instinct. Pay attention to your dreams. Don’t just listen for what you want – or expect – to hear. Remember to say please and thank you.

And most important of all, remember that sometimes, a dead frog is just a dead frog.

La Dia de los Muertos

2010-11-16T13:54:00.002Z

Our final day in San Francisco was La Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead (2nd November). In the UK, it is 'All Souls Day' and passes by pretty much unnoticed, but in Mexico and amongst some Mexican Americans in the US it is the occasion for a big celebration.

In San Francisco, in the Mexican Mission district of the city, the weeks leading up to the date see shops and houses decorated with altars to the dead, intricately-cut tissue paper bunting depicting skulls, skeletons, flowers etc., and decorated sugar skulls and 'pain de muertos' or 'bread of the dead' are for sale in bakeries. Marigolds are another traditional decoration at this time of year, and along with all the Hallowe'en pumpkins, witches, ghosts, etc, the Dead are a definite presence within the city.

The Day of the Dead skeletons are usually depicted dressed in clothes and/or carrying the tools of their trade. Traditional ones would be dressed as farm workers for example, or fancily-decked out Victorian ladies, but I also saw more modern ones such as the skeleton dressed as a career woman with power-dressing suit and briefcase, or a skateboarding skeleton complete with backwards-facing baseball cap. The point is that the Dead are like us - they are us, and we shouldn't be afraid of them, or of death, nor should we take life too seriously. I must say I like the idea of continuing a relationship with our Beloved Dead after they have left us, and in many ways the Day of the Dead celebrations are like a big party to which the ancestors and the living are both invited to hang out with each other.

There is a big parade through the streets of the Mission District on the evening of la Dia de los Muertos, so that evening, IB, Deborah and I and several of her friends painted our faces to look like skulls, and carrying a lit votive candle each, made our way to the gathering point for the parade.

There were already many people assembled, and some of the costumes were amazing, putting my own skull-bedecked T-shirt and jeans ensemble to shame. As well as all the people dressed as the dead like us, there were drummers, Aztec dancers, stiltwalkers and an amazing covered wagon pulled by a team of cyclists, with a kind of 'ringmaster' figure perched on top calling through a megaphone for people to 'bring out your dead!'.

We followed the parade from its start on Bryant Street, turned onto 24th Street (which was thronging with onlookers) and followed it for several blocks before leaving the crowds and cutting down Balmy Alley to the quieter part of the celebrations, where beautiful altars to the Dead had been set out in Garfield Park.

The park was a mixture of people, some in 'Dead' costumes, others conventionally dressed, wandering thoughtfully amongst the altars. Yet at the same time, in a nearby part of the park a brightly-floodlit kid's baseball game was taking place complete with picnicking families. It was, for me, the perfect juxtaposition of the living and the dead; a reminder that life and death are inextricably linked. The dead are always with us. And life goes on.

P.S. Beautiful photos of some of the costumes and altars may be found here.

Did I Really...

2010-11-14T20:38:00.000Z

...see a dragon on the horizon this afternoon?

Do you see it too?

San Francisco Photos Part 2

2010-11-10T09:03:00.001Z

It's hard to believe it's less than a week since we left...

The lovely City by the Bay

Coit Tower

Amoeba Records, Berkeley

Go Giants!

There are amazing murals everywhere in the Mission District

More murals...

Beautiful altars at the Spiral Dance. This one is for water.

Another lovely altar at the Spiral Dance.

Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge

San Francisco from Coit Tower by night.

San Francisco Photos Part 1

2010-11-09T22:22:00.000Z

Well, we are back in Wales, the computer is fixed - finally!! - and I have a few photos to share with you...

The Rubinoos 40th Anniversary Concert 23/10/10

Mel's Diner

Alcatraz

Sea lions at Pier 39

The Ferry Building, Embarcadero

Day of the Dead Altar in our favourite Mexican Restaurant (El Metate on Bryant Street)

Giant Redwoods in Muir Woods

They're really tall!

Golden Gate Bridge

Just too photogenic!

Dancing, The Dead, and Baseball

2010-11-02T18:39:00.006Z

Continuing our adventures in San Francisco...

We ventured further afield on Thursday, crossing to the East Bay on the BART system to visit Berkeley. Berkeley, which describes itself as a small place with a big reputation, is probably best known as a centre of liberal politics and political upheaval, especially back in the 60's and 70's. At its heart literally and metaphorically, is the university campus.

We found it an interesting place to walk around and explore (IB was delighted to visit another branch of Amoeba Records, whilst I could have spent weeks in the wonderful bookshops!). Berkeley is a strange mix of the achingly trendy and the tragically dispossessed (many homeless people).

We had a quiet couple of days then, mostly in the neighbourhood where we're staying as we wanted to conserve our energy for the Spiral Dance on Saturday night.

It was held in the Kezar Pavillion in Haight-Ashbury. We caught the bus - I was nervous about missing our stop, but we did fine! The venue had been beautifully decorated with amazing altars - once again I took lots of photos - and was filled with hundreds of people, many in fabulous costumes. I was really looking forward to experiencing a ritual on such a grand scale.

And it was a grand scale, with many, many people sharing the priestessing, a choir, dancers, stilt walkers (and white-clothed 'Graces' scattered throughout who did a wonderful job as greeters cum information points cum guides cum ushers). It was spectacular, both visually striking and theatrical. On the downside, I found this cut down on the possibility for fully participating as it creates something of a performers/spectators dynamic. For example the choir were both talented and polished in their performance, but most of the chants and songs they used were so elaborate (with so many verses) that people tended to listen rather than join in. My personal preference would be for simple chants that the choir could lead, but which the community as a whole could really join in with. But that's just me!

The invocations of elements, deities, the dead and descendants were beautiful and moving. The main part of the ritual was a Trance to the Isle of the Dead, where we were reunited with our Beloved Dead, and this was done wonderfully. We then began the Spiral Dance, an amazing feat of organization when dealing with so many people (we guesstimated about 600-800). The Graces really came into their own here, supervising the joining of people to the snaking line until at last everyone was dancing the spiral, laughing, singing, smiling, crying. I think there were actually two separate spirals weaving around each other, and I was just blown away by the sheer number of faces passing in front of me. What an experience! The dance culminated in a huge cone of power, after which we devoked and priestesses came around with baskets of baked goodies to share ('May you never hunger!'). I have to say the cookie I received was very welcome by then!

We bravely caught the bus home again instead of hailing a taxi, and this in itself was an experience - the bus was crammed with Hallowe'en revellers in high spirits wearing every costume imaginable including vampires, zombies, mermaids, cats, nurses, skunks, devils, medusas etc etc.

The next day was Samhain (Hallowe'en), which we celebrated in a much quieter yet no less enjoyable way, with a quiet 'Dinner for the Dead'. This was an absolutely delicious meal cooked for us and the neighbours by Deborah, at which we set a place for our ancestors and Beloved Dead and ate by candlelight.

Later, we watched the latest game in the finals of the baseball World Series (makes me giggle every time I hear 'World Series', given that only the Americans play it...). Despite having no understanding of baseball whatsoever, I found myself getting more and more interested in the outcome. This is mainly because the final games were between the teams of our lovely host city (The San Francisco Giants - hooray, hooray!!) and their opponents (The Texas Rangers, with George W. Bush sitting prominently supporting them - boo! boo!). The Giants won that evening, leaving them with just one more game to win to secure the title...

The next day (yesterday) was spent mostly in the neighbourhood shopping for souvenirs, although Deborah also took us out for a drive to see some of the city's best-kept secrets (including what is allegedly the REAL twistiest street in town - Vermont, as opposed to the more famous Lombard). I have to say, despite living in a hilly part of the world like Wales, some of the hills in San Francisco are truly daunting!

Later, with bated breath and fervently whispered prayers, we watched the baseball match - and San Francisco won! This is the first time in over 50 years the Giants have won the World Series, and the city just exploded in celebration! At first we listened to the sounds of jubilation erupting all around us, but then we just had to jump in the car and drive round the city (honking the horn and shouting 'Go Giants!, naturally). And so did everyone else. The whole city was out on the streets, honking horns, playing drums, tootling vuvuzelas, letting off fireworks, singing, dancing, shouting, waving flags and banners, and embracing total strangers. Quite a sight to behold. We think it's very considerate of San Francisco to win the baseball before we have to go home!

Today is La Dia de Los Muertes, the Day of the Dead. Tonight we will join those celebrations for our final night in the city. And tomorrow we will travel home... it will be nice to be home, but what an amazing trip it's been. We will be sorry when it's over.

San Francisco

2010-10-28T01:44:00.003+01:00

San Francisco is such a beautiful city. It's also a city that doesn't seem much like a city somehow. Since we've been here, IB and I have been amazed by the laid-back, friendly and courteous manner of most of the people we've met. Just one example is the way pedestrians have right of way over cars. To start with, the two of us were hesitating at street corners, unable to believe that the oncoming traffic was giving way to us. Now we've just about got the hang of it. I hope we remember to return to UK rules on our return! My friend Deborah keeps reminding us, "But you're in Northern California now!" every time we express amazement at the laid-back way of life.

We have been exploring different areas of the city: the Mission district, the Castro, Noe Valley, Haight-Ashbury, Fisherman's Wharf and the Embarcadero. Each is quite distinct, giving a kind of village-y atmosphere in many cases.

On Saturday, we attended The Rubinoos' 40th Anniversary concert at The Great American Music Hall, an amazing ornate venue that in times past was a brothel! The concert was one of our main reasons for coming to San Francisco - I have been a huge Rubinoos fan for over 30 years and did not want to miss this landmark event! The concert began with a great spoof 'This Is Your Life' featuring amazing video footage covering the past 40 years and some fantastic 'special guests', including former band members and friends of the band. The second half of the evening was the concert itself which covered a great selection of songs old and new, and carried on until midnight (with two encores). A fabulous night which I wouldn't have missed for the world! We also got a mention from the stage for having come the furthest, although people had travelled from all corners of the US to be there - proof of the loyalty of the band's fan base.

One reason for this loyalty may be that they are all very down to earth and approachable. IB and I had got friendly with the band's bass player, Al Chan, on line, and he and his wife had very kindly offered to take us out sightseeing the day after the show. Despite torrential rain, they took us to Haight-Ashbury (birthplace of the hippy movement) for the day, including a trip to the gargantuan record store, Amoeba Records. IB was in heaven and only budgetary constraints prevented him from emptying the shop!

Unfortunately the weather eventually defeated us - we were all four quite literally soaked to the skin - and we finished our day out drip-drying in a classic 50's-style diner over hamburgers and fries.

On Monday we got the hang of the city's BART (tube train) system and did the real tourist-thing on Fisherman's Wharf. My favourite thing there was the colony of wild sea-lions which congregate on floating platforms just by Pier 39. They are noisy and spend a lot of time sparring with each other but they are fascinating. They gather there quite naturally, as they are not fed. Only the floating platforms are placed there for their convenience, and they don't seem to mind being gawped at by tourists one bit.

Yesterday (Tuesday) Al once again took us for a day out - quite above and beyond the call of duty, I think! This time the weather was absolutely perfect, warm and sunny with barely a cloud in the sky. We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge to Muir Woods, a beautiful and peaceful area of redwood forest within easy striking distance of the city. The giant trees make one feel quite dwarfed, and the cool, damp, eucalyptus-scented air and dappled shade beneath them seems timeless.

Later we stopped at an overlook by the Golden Gate Bridge - a perfect opportunity for lots of photos - and then got yet another perspective by walking part of the way across the bridge and back. It is so much bigger than it looks in photos! And the Bay area must be one of the most photogenic in the world. I am itching to share my photos with you, but unfortunately won't be able to do so until I get home.

We are having the most wonderful time here! If I get the chance I will write about more of our adventures before we leave, and once I get back I will post lots of photos... you have been warned!

Home Thoughts from A Broad

2010-10-22T22:02:00.001+01:00

To say the last few weeks have been hectic would be a serious understatement. And just to add insult to injury, my home broadband connection has died and I am having serious difficulties getting it re-connected. But no matter, I have flown away from all the stress and drama (for a fortnight anyway) and am writing this from my friend's computer in her beautiful home in San Francisco.

IB and I are here in this lovely city visiting my friend Deborah Oak. On Saturday we are going to see the Rubinoos' 40th Anniversary concert at The Great American Music Hall, and next week we will be fulfilling my long-cherished ambition to attend Reclaiming's annual Spiral Dance. On November 2nd we will join in La Dia de los Muertes (or Day of the Dead) festivities before flying home the next day.

Sadly although I have my trusty camera with me I forgot to bring the cable for downloading photos to the computer, but when I get home I will post plenty of them to make up for lost time. In the meantime, I hope to report back regularly on our adventures.

Mabon Altar

2010-09-28T18:43:00.004+01:00

Moments of Radiance

2010-09-27T08:30:00.006+01:00

Yesterday we held our Mabon (Autumn Equinox) Ritual. It is starting to feel like a tradition each autumn: during the ritual we write those things we'd like to shed from our lives onto leaves and then burn them in the cauldron; take stock of the year's blessings and take an apple from the altar to symbolise those blessings; and finally pass around a basket of hazelnuts, taking it in turns to give them to each other - a nut for each wish or blessing we want to bestow. This symbolises the sharing of our year's harvest.

The ritual is always emotional, moving and heart-warming as people speak of the negatives they want to shed, then move on to the good things they harvest and finally bless each other in turn with lovely hazelnut-wishes.

Afterwards the group gathered in my kitchen as I finished preparing the mushroom quiche and apple crumble we were about to consume. Pinky and Suzanne were in the corner discussing tarot decks, IB and Dom compared mead recipes at the kitchen table, and all the while Sid serenaded us on his flute, moving from Ave Maria, through some Irish jigs to Ravel's Bolero.

I looked around at the lovely people assembled in my home, as the sun streamed in through the windows, the smells of the feast to come permeated the room, and the lovely ethereal music wove its way through all. And I felt a blaze of happiness. This is what I have always wanted, a group of true friends, a meaningful spiritual path, a comfortable home in which to gather and share with those friends in celebration and love.

Sometimes in life we are happy without even knowing it, only realising how precious a moment is after it has passed, and sometimes we are lucky enough to recognise true happiness in the moment. At this year's harvest I was truly blessed with an opportunity to recognise and count my blessings in a moment of radiance.

May we all be so fortunate. Blessed Be!

Beautiful September

2010-09-19T20:38:00.005+01:00

We' ve had some rain, but also some beautiful sunny early autumn days recently. Here are some photos to prove it!

On Mellow Fruitfulness and New Beginnings...

2010-09-08T09:17:00.008+01:00

The early morning sunlight is golden on the treetops, and mist still lingers in the valley folds. The robin's song has a tinge of autumn melancholy, and the sunlit dew highlights a hundred spider webs. September is here, and with her the onset of autumn. Though the swallows and martens of summer haven't yet departed, autumn now begins to take over.

I was musing this morning how strange it is that September and autumn can feel like a beginning. Mostly autumn is portrayed as the end, the culmination of the year, a time of harvest. And yet isn't it - aren't all turning points - also beginnings? Years ago, I wrote a poem, part of which declared:

"Through life and death and rebirth,

The thread continues spinning;

And though all beginnings have to end,

All ends are but beginnings"

In September the children go back to school, the new academic year begins. People return from summer holidays and in many cases begin planning their next holiday straight away! The shops begin their run-up to Christmas (yes I know!). Bulbs are planted in anticipation of the next spring, jumpers and boots re-emerge from their summer hiatus, the swallows begin their long journey back to warmer climes.

September marks the end of summer, but also the beginning of a new season - autumn. There are so many turning points in our lives, but every ending is simultaneously a new beginning, a new opportunity. This morning I'm remembering to be thankful for what has passed, whilst welcoming in the new...

Story of a Necklace

2010-08-14T20:32:00.007+01:00

I will shortly be leaving for this year's Avalon Spring witchcamp. And when choosing what to pack, I was drawn to bring along a necklace which normally sits on my main altar, in a corner of the bedroom.

The story of this necklace goes back to Avalon Spring 2008, where I first became acquainted with it. Dawn Isidora, who was one of the teachers that year, made three beautiful necklaces which she brought with her to be auctioned to raise funds for camp. Three members of the teaching team wore the necklaces throughout camp so that they would soak up the energy of the rituals. I felt an instant kinship for the necklace I was given to wear, and decided I would definitely bid for it in the auction on the final night of camp. Dawn had strung the other two necklaces with a definite intent for their energy, but she said she was unsure what 'my' necklace was about. She had strung it instinctively, and was still unsure what its purpose was.

For me it spoke of love, romantic love. The pale pink pearls (pink being the colour of love) were interspersed with tiny glass hearts and teeny copper beads (copper being the metal of Venus). At that time I had been married for nearly 17 years and whilst I was happy in my marriage it is fair to say that romance wasn't particularly high on the agenda - familiarity having bred a certain amount of taking each other for granted. Nor was I interested in drawing a new love into my life, being decidedly monogamist in my preferences. Nevertheless, I felt I had 'bonded' with the necklace and determined that I would be the winning bidder.

At the auction, I allowed myself a budget of £45. The first necklace sold for an amount comfortably within that limit, and I relaxed a little. The second went for a little higher than my budget, but I told myself hopefully that by now people would have exhausted their spending muscles and I would be lucky. But by now, the end of the auction, people were really getting into the swing of it, and the price for the necklace went up and up, as my heart sunk and sunk. All however, was not lost. My dear friends Georgia and Annie had noticed how much I wanted the necklace, and when my price limit was exceeded and I stopped bidding, they chipped in additional money on my behalf, until at last all competition fell away, and the necklace was mine.

I still remained puzzled as to why I felt so drawn to the necklace, but took it home to sit proudly on my altar and occasionally come out, displayed around my neck.

Later that year, my marriage - much to my surprise - ended, and I was left alone, dazed and confused by this unexpected turn of events.

The necklace lay mostly forgotten on the altar, until a friend from the local Pagan community started to become more than just a friend. At Beltane 2009, I wore my love necklace for the first time with intent; the intent that if the time was right I would open my heart to new possibilities. By the end of the month, IB and I had made the transition from friends to lovers, and my happiness grew and grew.

Today, packing my bags I wanted to bring the necklace, but it has always had a loose fastening and I was worried about losing it. I mentioned it to IB, who promptly delicately, yet securely soldered it so that I can wear it with confidence.

And at Avalon Spring this year, for the first time I will be joined by my partner (T never having been interested in such things), and I can't wait to share this event I love so much with the person I love so much. My happiness continues to grow.

Now my necklace and my love are secure. Don't you just love a happy ending?

A Blog With Substance Award

2010-08-03T09:48:00.007+01:00

I am absolutely thrilled to find I have been awarded this blogging award. The most recent rules for the award are:

Thank the blogger that gave you the award. Thankyou to Jill over at Path of the Moon Daughter, I am truly delighted that you've chosen my blog for this award.
Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, experience, using 5 words. Mine are *enjoy *express *experiment *dare and *share.

Pass the award on to 5 fabulous bloggers with substance. I'm happy to bestow this award (in no particular order) on the following fabulous blogs which always have something worth saying, and say it well:

Thank you and goodnight!

Back In The Saddle Again...

2010-07-23T19:42:00.007+01:00

When I was nine years old I desperately wanted a pony. A white pony, with flowing mane and tail, that I would name Silver. Silver would be my best friend, I would plait wildflowers and ribbons into her mane and we would have great adventures together, roaming the countryside. I christened my bicycle 'Silver' and attached ribbons to the handlebars to use as reins, and the bike became an imaginary pony.

My parents couldn't afford a real pony, but they did agree to send my sister and I for riding lessons at a nearby stables. I was overjoyed - until reality set in. The pony I was given to ride, Star, seemed impossibly huge (my younger sister was given a fat little Shetland pony to ride called Teddy, whose much lower centre of gravity seemed a desirable asset). Star's lack of anchor points to hold onto also seemed a serious defect - once teetering in the saddle, the stirrups and reins seemed wholly inadequate to keep me from toppling off. I had no great aptitude for riding and could not for the life of me cope with Star attempting anything faster than a slow amble. Most of the time I was quite frankly terrified. After a few weeks the inevitable happened and I fell crashing to the ground - breaking my arm in the process. As the riding instructor picked me up and dusted me down, she gave me a kindly, yet brisk talking to, about stiff upper lips and how it was essential to get straight back on the horse to ensure I wasn't put off riding in the future. Too late. I was already put off, and in fact nothing on the planet could have induced me to clamber back on Star's patient back at that moment in time.

And that was the end of my equestrian dreams. At the age of nine and a half I hung up my riding hat and decided to concentrate on becoming a secret agent instead.

******

How often do we give up in the face of discouragement? It's not always a bad thing - sometimes it is good to know one's limitations and be realistic. How many 'Pop Idol/X Factor' hopefuls who can't sing a note insist in their post-audition interview that pop stardom is their one dream and they won't be discouraged in the face of rejection? When so many people with truly wonderful voices never attain stardom, how realistic is it for tone-deaf talentless wannabes to imagine stardom is just around the corner? Would it not be better for them to realise their limitations and concentrate on finding out what they're really good at - cake decorating or brain surgery or teaching or breeding new strains of auriculas?

On the other hand, how easy it is to let a set-back hold us back. How often do we let fear of failure stop us from even trying?

******

When T and I split up, I was full of fear about my future. My marriage had given me a sense of security, emotional and financial. I thought I knew what life had in store for me, yet suddenly the rug was pulled from under me, and I felt like a complete failure. I was afraid. My future looked bleak, as everything I thought I could rely on was suddenly thrown into chaos. I expected that I would have to move from Halfway Up A Hill, and I panicked about how I could afford a new property with room for the animals. I knew I would have to get a paid job again, and the length of time since I had last been in paid employment convinced me that would be impossible. I could not imagine that I would ever find love again. I envisioned a cold, lonely, impoverished and uncertain future ahead of me.

Unlike falling off a horse and deciding not to get back on, I had no choice this time. Life was going to carry on, and not re-engaging with it wasn't an option.

Luckily, my financial situation turned out not be as scary as I had imagined. The divorce settlement allowed me to stay at Halfway Up A Hill - for the time being anyway. That gave me some breathing space in which to lick my wounds and take time easing back into the workforce. Amazingly, and quite unlooked for, a new romantic relationship developed out of an existing friendship. I was resistant at first, not wanting to ruin a good friendship 'on the rebound'. Yet IB and I have been together for over a year now and quite honestly I believe it is the best, healthiest relationship I have ever been in. Even so, it has been challenging at times for both of us. Starting a relationship in one's forties is quite a different kettle of fish than in one's twenties - the last time I was dating before this (do people even say dating any more? It sounds so teenager-y - but I digress...). At this time in our lives we are both quite set in our ways, which needs careful negotiation, yet at the same time we are more comfortable in our own skins and sure of what we want from life.

******

My bike 'Silver' is long gone (though fondly remembered) and it has been a good few years since I have cycled at all. I bought a bike about fifteen years ago but found it too much like hard work and it languished mostly unused in the garage. It has finally gone, cleared away with a lot of other stuff in my life that was no longer needed or wanted.

IB however, is a keen cyclist and has convinced me that my problem with cycling was the wrong bike. We have found me a good secondhand bike on Ebay which we picked up earlier this week. It needs a few improvements before I can ride it (the brakes need some work), but I am feeling a mixture of excitement at the thought of riding a bike again along with fear at the prospect. Am I too old? Too unfit? What if I make a fool of myself and fall off? How will I manage those Welsh hills? And yet I remember the sense of freedom and joy that cycling used to bring all those years ago. Is cycling still for me? I don't know. But I am willing to give it a try, a good try, knowing that initially muscles will ache and joints will creak, yet with practice I will improve.

Sometimes, it pays to know when not to get back in the saddle. Horse riding was not for me, and I saved myself a lot of grief (and my parents a lot of money) by quitting when I did.

But sometimes you just have to pick yourself up, dust yourself down, and start all over again. Despite having my self-confidence and trust in others severely dented, I was brave enough to start a new relationship and I am so glad I did. It has helped the sun come out again.

Sometimes you just need to take a gamble and try again. Begin a new relationship, buy a new bike, try something new and different. You never know, getting back in the saddle just may be the best decision you ever made.

Please Yourself

2010-07-11T14:41:00.006+01:00

I recently heard a new cover of an old song, John Fogerty's version of Rick Nelson's 'Garden Party'. I first heard the original song played on the radio years ago, and although I understood most of the lyrics at the time, the passage of years helped me hear it this time around with deepened understanding.

The song gives Nelson's thoughts on the negative reaction of some of his fans when he wanted to branch out from playing the 50's style pop music he was known for into 70's country rock. The full lyrics can be found here (and an explanation of some of the more obscure references is given on the Wikipedia link above), but the lines which really struck a chord with me this time around were those of the chorus:

"But it's all right now,

I learned my lesson well.

You see, you can't please everyone,

So you got to please yourself"

It was the notion of pleasing yourself that really got me thinking. Normally you hear the words 'Please yourself!' as the dismissive end to an argument, or being told you seem 'pleased with yourself' is an accusation of smugness.

However, what if pleasing oneself meant having the bravery and integrity to live up to one's own standards rather than those of others?

Nelson sings:

"When I got to the garden party,

They all knew my name

No one recognized me,

I didn't look the same"

and

"If you gotta play at garden parties,

I wish you a lotta luck

But if memories were all I sang,

I'd rather drive a truck"

In other words, people were happy with him while he continued to play the part they wanted him to. But when he found his own direction in life and ditched the preppy image and 50's pop for a more hippy style that reflected where he was at that time in his life, he found himself booed offstage. Even so, he decided he'd rather be true to what he believed in than pander to popularity.

In the song, I think Nelson is talking about coming to terms with the fact that although you can't please everyone, at the end of the day the important thing is to be true to yourself and your own ideals and ethics. In witchcraft, many people, myself included, subscribe to what is known as 'The Wiccan Rede' which appears in many forms, the most simple and concise of which is, 'An it harm none, do what thou wilt' - in other words, as long as you're not hurting anyone (or anything?), it's OK to do whatever you like. In some ways this may seem way more permissive than other codes of behaviour such as the Ten Commandments, but actually it is very robust. It is clear: Harm NONE, not harm as few as possible, or 'harm not thy neighbour'. Harm None.

Although it is impossible to pre-think every single action through to all potential outcomes to ensure it will harm none, I believe that it is important to try to live our lives in non-harmful ways, taking our co-existence with the needs, feelings and rights of others into consideration. Christianity says the same thing in another way, 'Do unto others as you would be done by them'. My notion of pleasing myself may mean living up to my own ideals, but I do not exist in a vacuum, and I know well that I am part of a complex interconnection of other beings. Being pleased with myself means not doing things just to please others, but choosing to do them because I can see how they contribute to the creation and well-being of the kind of world I want to live in. A world of beauty, balance and delight (in the words of Donald Engstrom-Reese).

I am trying to please myself in this lifetime. Being true to my own beliefs and ethics and living up to them. I don't always succeed - sometimes I displease others by not doing what they want, other times I am a human doormat - but I keep trying so that on balance, I can say I am pleased with myself. You truly can't please everyone, but you can try to please yourself.

P.S. Link to a Youtube video of the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxdiraVxwkI

Avalon Spring 2010

2010-06-28T20:13:00.005+01:00

Now that summer is in full bloom I am getting excited about this year's Avalon Spring (Witchcamp). Witchcamp is always one of my summer highlights, and I just know that this year's is going to be wonderful.

I am lucky enough to be teaching again this year, along with three dear friends who also happen to be wonderful teachers and priestesses - Brighde Eire, Georgia Midnight Crow and Deborah Oak. We're cooking up some great offerings (workshops) which I'm really excited about. Once again we will return to the beautiful Earthspirit retreat centre near Glastonbury where we will gather under the stern gaze of the resident dragon, Clifford (really!), bathe in the dappled sunlight of the sacred tree circle and dance beneath the stars in the evening rituals. And this year we are working with a beautiful story, the Feri Creation myth of the Star Goddess.

I can't wait - come and join us if you can, it's going to be amazing!

Gossip, Rumour & Hearsay

2010-06-26T17:16:00.003+01:00

One of the cliches about small rural communities is that everyone knows everyone else's business. And like most cliches, this one is based in truth, as I have been finding out in the last few months.

One reason is that many people are related to each other - families that have been in the area for hundreds of years in many cases have intermarried into a tangled tapestry of threads that is often hard to un-knot. I was recently cautioned by a fellow in-comer, 'Be careful what you say to one person about another - you never know whose aunt or cousin they may be!'. This seems to be wise advice.

As an in-comer, I have found the level of interest in other people's lives both sweet and touching - these people care about each other - and also somewhat bizarre and unsettling. My elderly neighbour, for example, loves to ring me up when there is a funeral and tell me all about the deceased, their virtues, vices, peccadilloes, likes and dislikes, even if I have no idea who she's talking about. And then she will tell me who was at the funeral, what they said, what they wore, what they thought about the deceased... again, I only know a fraction of the people she is talking about and often feel like an unintentional eavesdropper. Discomfort arises when she tells me about the things people have done that she disapproves of. I am clearly supposed to condemn these poor strangers for their sins, even though I know only my neighbour's version of their shortcomings. Mostly I umm and ahhh noncommittally and hope she'll soon find another topic.

Most discomforting of all is the recent realisation that I too am the subject of neighbourhood gossip. For example, at the end of last summer - more than a year after T and I had split - I was invited to a wedding. My invitation included a 'plus one', so I asked IB (who I had been seeing for several months by then) to accompany me. The wedding was lovely, I knew about a quarter to a third of the people there and was introduced to many more. When we returned home, a friend who hadn't been at the wedding rang to say that before the wedding had even finished, a neighbour (who also hadn't been at the wedding) rang her to ask why I was at the wedding with a man who was Not My Husband. Someone else - presumably a wedding guest - had rung him to report on my presumed infidelity and brass neck in showing off my fancy man to all and sundry. What really amazed me was that anyone who actually knew me, knew that T and I had split, and that I had started seeing someone. Surely only people who know me would be interested in my private life? Obviously that isn't the case!

Subsequently, I have met people locally for the first time, and in beginning to converse with them have found that they already know I'm divorced, where I live, that my parents have recently moved into the area... in short, they know exactly who I am and quite a lot of detail about my private life. I find this all quite bewildering. How can I be so interesting that perfect strangers are exchanging details of my life with each other. Why would they even want to know?

Perhaps I'm strange in not being that curious about other people. I take an interest in the lives of people I know, but I can't get my head around the notion of nosing into the affairs of strangers... or perhaps that's it. Perhaps I'm no longer a stranger, perhaps I have taken my first step onto the (long) ladder of being accepted as part of the local community. That is a nicer way of framing it!

Either way, I have taken perverse delight in throwing petrol on the gossip inferno by allowing the son of another neighbour to park his car on my drive for the time being. It's a simple 'helping each other out' scenario - he needs somewhere to park his SORN*-ed vehicle, and it benefits me to have a car parked on the drive even when I'm not here so it looks like there's someone in. However, I am now a Divorced Woman (and we all know what they're like...), IB is still on the scene, and now another single man's car is parked outside my house... I can just imagine what they're saying down at the local Tafarn**

"Have you heard about that Moonroot at Halfway Up A Hill - what a hussy! Well I never - do you know, she..."

* SORN = Statutory Off Road Notice. In the UK, when a car is not licensed it is issued with a SORN, one condition of which is that it is not parked on the public highway.

** Tafarn - Tavern or pub.

A Dry Spell

2010-06-16T20:13:00.006+01:00

Walking down the hill this evening to deliver eggs to my neighbours, I noticed the ditches are completely dry. The shrunken river drifts in a calm, shallow, meandering way, in contrast to its swollen, raging character in times of heavy rain.

We had a day of steady rain over the weekend, which gave a growth spurt to the grasses and flowers (and weeds!), but after an unusually rain-free winter followed by a dry, sunny spring it didn't make much difference to the streams, ditches and rivers.

For the first time since moving to Wales (ten years ago this August) I am seriously worrying about the well drying up. Halfway Up A Hill has no mains water supply, so if the well did dry up it would definitely be a problem. I have many water butts stationed around the property, but it's amazing how quickly that water gets used when conditions demand it.

I wonder how the birds and animals are coping? A dearth of water in West Wales is not normally an issue. I remember being amazed and impressed when we first moved here by the way little springs would - well, spring up, on the hillside after heavy rain.

I have just checked the five day weather forecast and it doesn't appear we are due for rain any time soon. Don't get me wrong, I am loving the warm, sunny weather, especially after the last few miserable, wet summers we have had here. But I would like the weather Gods to know that it would be nice if we could have the odd heavy downpour too - maybe overnight so we can keep enjoying the summery days. As Joni Mitchell so rightly observed, sometimes you don't know what you got till it's gone.

Real Gold

2010-06-11T09:03:00.006+01:00

My Mum's wedding bouquet was yellow roses and mauve freesias. She still loves these flowers today.

Today my parents celebrate their Golden Wedding Anniversary, 50 years together.

This afternoon, they will re-take their vows, with my Uncle Jack, who married them way back in 1960 reprising his role as officiant. Tomorrow we will throw a big party for them. Fifty years of happy marriage is worth celebrating!

Last night we watched some old home movies of their wedding and the early years of their marriage: the building of the home I and my siblings grew up in, family holidays, birthday parties and trips to the zoo. It was strange watching these old films, which I probably last saw as a teenager. This time, I saw them through new eyes. Looking back now that I am in my forties I could see my parents for the first time as a young couple, starting out in life, building their life and family together. I realised how hard it must have been for them sometimes with three small children, only my Dad working, money in short supply, literally building a house brick by brick themselves and turning it into a happy home. But I also know how lucky I am to come from a close-knit, loving family. That is worth more than gold!

So - golden years, leading to a Golden Anniversary today. Happy Anniversary, Mum and Dad. And may there be many more!

St Anthony's Well, Llansteffan

2010-06-05T21:31:00.009+01:00

Llansteffan is a lovely place to visit. It is on the estuary of the Towy River, downstream from Carmarthen just before the river flows into the sea.

Up on the hill above the village are the ruins of a dramatic cliff-top castle. The views from up here are spectacular.

But less obvious, tucked away down a narrow, tree-lined footpath leading from the beach is a place to treasure.

Here, stepping through an unremarkable old door set in a stone wall and down stone steps, you find yourself in a tiny courtyard overhung with wisteria and honeysuckle.

This is St Anthony's Well, a place of pilgrimage for hundreds of years. It delights me that this holy place - hidden away from the casual observer - is still visited and honoured to this day with offerings of flowers, shells, crystals and foliage.

When IB and I visited earlier today, the alcove of the well was filled with such gifts, and the plaque depicting St Anthony himself had been garlanded with wildflowers.

The well has such a tranquil, sacred atmosphere it is one of my favourite places to visit. I thoroughly recommend it to anyone seeking to visit ancient sacred sites in the Carmarthen area. Take some time out to relish the peace there. And don't forget to bring a shell from the beach, or a wildflower from the lane for St Anthony!

Summer Morning in the Garden

2010-06-02T11:16:00.007+01:00

Barefoot through wet grass. The smell of damp soil, sun on bare arms.

Teasing seedling weeds out from between the onions. Gently helping bean stems find a hold on bamboo canes.

Bees in the comfrey. Dewdrops twinkle on soft plumes of fennel.

Stems grow, day by day, inch by inch. Leaves unfold into the light.

I am back in my rightful place. The garden and I exhale and relax.

Falling In Love

2010-05-28T17:09:00.006+01:00

I fall in love with the world again every May. It is such a beautiful month.

The trees are all in leaf by now, but the leaves are still tender, so green, almost translucent. The woods and hedgerows are full of bluebells, probably the most beautiful blue in the world. And they are complimented and highlighted by the other wildflowers accompanying them: red campion, buttercups, Queen Anne's lace, stitchwort, lady's smock. And the lushness of the grass!

The skies are blue and full of sun which shimmers on the fields of buttercups. The sweet, faery scent of hawthorn entices from every hedgerow. The joyous chatter of swallows and martens, the rich fluid song of blackbird and thrush. Apple blossoms flutter in the breeze, and the bees drink deeply from their abundance.

In the garden the vegetables seem to grow with each passing day, and in the flower borders welsh poppies, irises, forget-me-nots and columbines harmonise tones of yellow, purple, lilac and blue.

The world is in love with life at this time of year, its beauty heart-stopping. Oh yes, I love May. How could I not?

The Mysterious Case of the Vanishing Hen

2010-05-24T22:54:00.004+01:00

As this afternoon was another gloriously sunny affair, IB and I decided to work in the vegetable patch. And while we worked, we opened the door to the chicken run, so they could come out and graze on the lush grass by the greenhouse. We assumed that as we were working close by they would be safe from foxes and buzzards.

One of the younger Light Sussex hens (Blossom) was showing signs of broodiness, so we evicted her from the nest box (much to her disgust) and shut the pop-hole so she couldn't sneak back in when we weren't looking. The delights of scratching up interesting tit-bits in the grass soon distracted her, and soon everyone was out enjoying the fresh air and warm sunshine - including us in the veggie patch.

After a few hours, we decided it was time to retire for a cup of tea, and ushered most of the chickens back into the run. I brought down some wheat to coax in the stragglers while IB took the gardening tools back up the hill and put the kettle on.

As soon as I opened the pop-hole, Blossom shot back into the nest box, her hormones clearly overwhelming her appetite! The other hens had no such qualms and clustered around my feet, murmuring contentedly and eagerly pecking up the grain. I did a quick head count, and could make out only eight hens around me. Blossom was in the nest box, but that should have left nine. I counted again. Still only eight. Who was missing? The two Black Rocks, Ceridwen and Blodeuwedd, and Rhiannon the Speckledy, present. Three of the Light Sussex: Daisy, Dot and old Blodwen, too. The two new smokey-grey Bluebells so new they are not yet named, and Blossom (the fourth Light Sussex) looking puffed up and sulky in the nest box, all there. Except for one. Bella, the Cream Legbar.

Bella is one of my oldest hens, yet she still lays 2-3 eggs a week. They are the most beautiful pale blue colour, and very popular with my regular egg customers, some of whom claim they taste better than normal eggs (I'm not convinced of this myself, but still...). Bella's also very flighty, panicking at the drop of a hat and seemingly convinced I am actually an evil fiend who will do her in the very second she lets her guard down.

I double checked the run, under the leaning elder, under the chicken house (where they often enjoy a dust bath). I called, and shook the container of grain, which is usually guaranteed to bring all the hens running eagerly to me. No sign of Bella. I began to worry. IB joined me, and we searched in the trees overhead (in case she'd had a Bella-style freak out about something and flown up to an overhanging branch), and the undergrowth - at first close to the area the hens had been in, and then further and further afield. Still nothing.

I racked my brains to try and remember if I'd heard something strange while we'd been in the veggie patch, but couldn't remember anything unusual. We searched and called and began to suspect the worst, except the other hens didn't seem spooked, and there were no tell-tale heaps of feathers to be found.

Meeting back at the greenhouse, we were baffled. Our best guess was that she'd wandered away from the rest of the flock and been snagged by a lucky passing fox. But the lack of feathery evidence seemed strange.

"Perhaps she's lurking in the undergrowth somewhere, and she'll come out later," I suggested, thinking aloud. "We'd better check back frequently in case she turns up. Or perhaps she's crept off to find somewhere to lay as the hen house was shut. Perhaps she's round the back of the greenhouse..."

IB climbed onto the wall of a disused cold-frame to peer behind the greenhouse - and as he did so, Bella shot out of the cold-frame in a flurry of feathery panic! Closer inspection revealed that she'd fashioned herself a cosy hollow in there, where a perfect new-laid pale-blue egg now nestled. Her mottled brown plumage was perfect camouflage, and we'd walked right past her during our search without seeing her at all.

Bella is now safely back with the rest of the flock, and I think everyone's heart rate is just about back to normal again now!

Blossom Moon

2010-05-16T22:44:00.005+01:00

I love the Native American way of naming the moons of the year for their character, for example 'Snow Falls Moon', 'Leaf Moon' or 'Frogs Croak Moon'.

I have oftened flirted with the idea of coming up with a year's worth of Moon-names myself, although I haven't done it so far. Yet I'm sure if I was to name the May moon it would have to be 'Blossom Moon'.

It has been such a dry, cold, spring here that everything in the garden and hedgerows has been held back - snowdrops, daffodils and bluebells several weeks later than their usual time of appearance. And yet when things have appeared, they seem to have put on a much more spectacular display than usual. Perhaps they're making up for lost time, or perhaps we're just so glad to finally see them, they seem much more impressive than usual. And this year the blossom seemed to come all at once, in a joyous froth of petals heralding summer with heedless abandon.
Just look at the photos I took a couple of weeks ago:

Then it was flowering cherry, juneberry, damson and blackthorn. Now, in the orchard there is pear and apple blossom, cherry, crabapple and very soon, quince. And from every hedgerow the breeze carries the sweet, uncanny fairy fragrance of mayblossom (hawthorn).

I'm sure the bees and the fairies must be as happy as I am to see such abundant beauty.

I'm Back!

2010-04-12T19:21:00.009+01:00

It has been the longest, hardest winter.

I struggled with a job I hated during the long, dark days, sinking deeper into depression than I realised. My divorce came through and T married his new partner almost immediately, which felt like a final, bitter slap in the face.

As winter dug in for the long haul, the bitterly cold and snowy weather took its toll on everyone at Halfway Up A Hill, including the animals. No fewer than 3 of the chickens died from infections or simple old age, and one was taken by a fox which dug under the fence surrounding the run (luckily we heard the commotion and ran down in time to prevent further casualties). One of the younger chickens also suffered recurrent sour crop, and ended up living on a windowsill in the house for several weeks while we laboriously treated her with antibiotics and hand fed her until she recovered. Meantime, we suffered the frustration and inconvenience of being snowed in for a couple of weeks which seemed to drag on and on.

Later, in February, I succumbed to the nastiest chest infection I've ever experienced; it took me nearly 6 weeks to recover and the antibiotics I was prescribed had no effect whatsoever. IB also caught it and together we nursed each other as best we could, with heroic support from my poor Dad, who was also nursing Mum through it.

The final tragedy in this catalogue of drear and misfortune came when Angel the gander stopped eating and preening, seemingly unable to open his beak more than a couple of millimetres. We took him to the vet, only to find that somehow, he had both broken and dislocated his jaw. It's almost impossible to imagine how this could have happened, our best guess is that in chasing one of the chickens he ran into a fence post or similar obstacle and injured himself that way. Sadly, the damage was inoperable, and with many tears we made the horrible decision to have him put down. Buffy is gradually adjusting to her widowhood, and at some stage we will try to find her another companion.

This longest, hardest winter seemed truly reluctant to loosen its grip, and the unusually cold and dry weather remained for a prolonged period, the normally lush green hillsides strangely brown and deadened by drought and frost.

At times I didn't know how I would get through it. But spring must follow winter eventually, no matter how strongly winter clings on.

And now at last, spring has come. The spring rains turned the fields back to green, and as the sun shines and the birds sing, the leaf buds are breaking and flowers are blooming in hedgerow and garden. I have left my soul-destroying job and am investigating the possibility of starting a small business of my own. IB and I have been cleaning and decorating the house, coaxing the neglected vegetable patch back into productivity, and dreaming and planning for the future.

And today I realised I am happy, truly happy: back to the normal 'me' that I have been struggling to regain for the last 2-3 years, since - well, the exhaustion brought on by the Summer Gathering in August 2007, really. Can it be that long? Looking back I can't believe what a struggle life has been since then. Yet suddenly I feel like I am swimming with the tide instead of constantly battling against it. Somehow I am in alignment with the Universe again.

Perhaps one day I will be able to look back and see the pattern of why I had to spend so long struggling just to keep my head above the maelstrom of hardship being flung my way. One day. For now I am happy to know I am in calmer waters, going with the flow and enjoying the journey once more.

Spam, Spam, Spam

2010-04-12T08:54:00.003+01:00

I'm not sure if 'spam' is the correct word for irrelevant and unwanted links to other blogs/websites on a blog's 'comments' section. But although I'm unsure of the correct terminology this is what I have been receiving from time to time, and it seems to be on the increase.

One of my readers has posted to me with concerns about this, and I think they're justified. So from now on, I am changing the comments section to 'moderated', so that I can see each post before it appears and weed out any that are inappropriate. This doesn't mean that I will be censoring genuine comments, just weeding out the links to porn websites etc!

I hope everyone who reads my blog will understand and be happy with this decision.

Blessed Be.

Earth Day

2010-03-28T11:12:00.006+01:00

Yesterday was Earth Day*. I went into Carmarthen to join the Earth Day event that was being held there. Various organisations had set up information stalls, there were workshops including a fun all-day craft workshop for kids using recycled materials from the local scrap stores, and a series of talks and discussions.

Unfortunately I was only able to go along for part of the day, but when I arrived just after lunch I was saddened to see only about 25 people there (plus a few more in the foyer taking part in the recycled crafts workshops with their children). Carmarthen was bustling on a sunny Saturday afternoon, the event was well publicised, and yet only a handful of people seemed to have turned out.

Nevertheless, the overall mood was upbeat and positive. The people there were in full awareness of the dire threats to the Earth and Her survival, and yet there was a mood of 'Yes we can!'.

The one exception to this was an elderly man who, during a discussion about what we can and should be doing put forward the view that it was too late, we should have acted up to 100 years ago and our lack of action then means we and the planet are all doomed. When someone - humorously - asked him why he hadn't yet slashed his wrists, he thought for a while and then replied, "Because I want to live long enough to know I was right."

My reply to this was that if I was in his shoes I would want to be proved wrong, which kind of took the wind out of his sails!

Later on in the discussion I suggested a monthly e-newsletter to keep all the different projects around the area in touch with each other, sharing resources and information. I think I may have actually volunteered to get said newsletter up and running, which is a bit daunting but also meant I left with a smile on my face and the feeling I had contributed something useful to the day, despite not being able to be there for the whole event.

That evening, along with many others around the country, at 8.30pm GMT I turned all the lights and most of the appliances in the house off for an hour, and did some chores by the light of a solar-powered lantern to mark 'Earth Hour'.

On turning the computer back on afterwards, I was saddened to see a Facebook friend had posted a link to an article from the Daily Telegraph by Damian Thompson titled 'Beat the Earth Hour fascists and turn on your lights NOW!'. When I posted a comment about why I had observed Earth Hour and how sick I was of smug cynicism about ecological issues I was jumped on by many other commentators, mostly climate change deniers and paranoid conspiracy theorists.

It was sad end to a long day, book ended by people from extreme ends of the climate change issue. On the one hand the elderly man at Earth Day represented the 'Humans are evil and we thoroughly deserve the ecological holocaust we have unleashed on ourselves' end of the spectrum, and later the Facebook commentators represented the 'I won't be told what to do by holier than thou greenies who are making it all up anyway' point of view.

Amazingly, I am not (too) depressed by this, perhaps still carried along by the atmosphere of 'Yes we can!' I encountered from most people yesterday.

It is my opinion that this world is too unique, beautiful and sacred to let it be trashed and destroyed. It may be an insurmountable task we have ahead of us in trying to turn things around, but I for one will not give up trying.

* In the UK. Earth Day is celebrated by the US in April.

Some Mysterious March - Erm - 'Eccentricity'

2010-03-26T14:59:00.006Z

My somewhat strange and deeply religious neighbour has recently been randomly lopping off small branches from his hedge and laying them 'lean-to' style across the ditch alongside the road.

I have no idea what this is for. Initially I thought he'd cut them but not had time to clear them away, but they have remained there for the last few weeks, so I guess they're where he intends them to be. But for what purpose? I wondered if it was to stop leaves etc getting in the ditch and damming it up, but frankly the branches themselves seem to be creating something of an obstacle. I decided to wait and see.

However, I have today discovered that he has also been randomly lopping bits out of my hedge. Some he has thrown into the ditch (so much for the 'stopping the ditch from getting blocked' theory), and some he has left poked back into my hedge.

I only noticed because a rather large branch of blackthorn had toppled out of my hedge and was partly obscuring the road. When I went to move it, assuming it had blown down in the recent strong winds, I found it had been neatly sawn off and then propped back upright in the hedge.

I don't think he's been attempting to do me a favour by sneakily trimming my overgrown hedge, as some bits that obviously need attention have been left alone. And the bits he's cut range from smallish twigs about a foot long to largeish branches about 6' in length. Ash, hazel and blackthorn as far as I can see.

I am mystified. Is this some strange Welsh custom I've never come across before? Has he completely lost the plot? Should I be worried, flattered or outraged? Am I about to be initiated into some dark secret of country life, wooed, or burned at the stake?

Anyone got any ideas??

Mother's Day

2010-03-14T10:33:00.004Z

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I can even hear fledglings peeping in their hedgerow nests. It's Mother's Day and later I will be taking along a card and gift for my Mum and having lunch with her and Dad, which I'm really looking forward to.

This morning as I was lying in bed listening to the radio I heard a request for a song to be played for 'All those mothers who no longer have their children with them'. This of course applies to many situations - mothers whose children are being raised by someone else (children adopted, fostered, or being raised by their father for example) - but I think the person making the request was thinking more specifically of mothers whose children have died. One doesn't of course, stop being a mother or feeling the emotions of a mother just through separation or bereavement.

For the first time this morning though, I realised that I too fall into that category. I have mentioned here before my unfulfilled desire for children of my own, but what I haven't written about is that I did bear a child.

He was longed for and the pregnancy - after many years of trying - seemed like a prayer finally answered. Unfortunately, complications developed during the pregnancy and Peter was stillborn.

Losing a child at any age is unbearable, but losing a child before he is born puts you in a strange kind of limbo. Many people seemed to think it was kinder just to brush over the whole episode - "least said, soonest mended" - but in my experience I would say being able to talk about Peter, being allowed to hold him and spend time with him after the birth and then being able to give him a proper funeral was what gave me peace and closure.

The strange kind of limbo comes in the years afterwards. Do I count myself as a mother or not? What do I say when people ask if I have children? I usually just say no and leave it at that. It's mostly too complicated and painful to explain. But occasionally when I say I have no children I see the immediate assumptions being made. Oh, career came first. Oh, doesn't like children. Oh, chose to live the life of Reilly without the inconvenience of kids. That stings, even worse when it comes with the slightly judgemental, 'Oh, didn't you want a family?'

I suppose what I am trying to say this morning is that Motherhood - and Fatherhood for that matter - comes in many shapes and sizes. Women have children, have miscarriages, have stillbirths, have abortions. Children are adopted, fostered, raised by other family members; are abducted, run away, die. Shit happens, and we don't always have a choice in how things turn out. And that doesn't stop us being parents, or experiencing the love and pain that that involves.

So next time you ask someone if they have children, please don't make assumptions based on a 'yes' or 'no' answer. The story is almost always more complicated than that!

Happy Mother Day to ALL the mothers out there. Including me.

Thank You!

2010-02-22T13:25:00.003Z

A heartfelt thank you to everyone who took the time to respond to my plea for help and advice. All of your comments were read, mulled over, dreamed on and appreciated. The wisdom I received from you undoubtedly helped me to re-frame my experience not as 'stuckness' but as a time of rest, hibernation, coccooning while I re-examined my options and pondered my future.

In the meantime the snow has come and gone and come again, but even on the chilliest days Spring is now unmistakeably in the air, and I am 'unfrozen'.

I have made the decision to leave my difficult job, and in fact handed in my notice this morning. I have come to see - helped by all your wise words - how it was sapping my strength and sucking me into depression, and I have decided that it is wiser to remove myself from that situation than continue on a downward spiral, even if I don't have a better job to go to at the moment.

I have plans and ideas - some only half formed - but most importantly a feeling of positivity about the future.

So thank you, each and every one of you. You have helped me more than you know.

Blessed Be.

5th Annual Poetry for Brigid Event

2010-01-30T21:32:00.006Z

Feel free to copy the following to your blog/facebook/website and spread the word. Let poetry bless the blogosphere once again!

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2010

WHERE: Your blog

WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day

HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.

RSVP: If you plan to publish, feel free to leave a comment and link on this post. Please pass this invitation on.

I have participated in this event for the last couple of years. This year I'm posting early again as I have a busy week ahead. The poem I have selected I found in an anthology called 'Sweet Singers, An Anthology of Carmarthenshire Poems'. I love that it originated in my neck of the woods! I also like the subject matter (the magic that can arise from darkness), as it feels right for me personally at this time in my life, and also at a time of year (Imbolc) when we celebrate the returning light and the end of the dark days of winter.

Alchemy

We are in a state of continual transformation: fresh atoms are continually being reincorporated in us, while others that we received beforehand escape from us.

('De l'Infinito', Giordano Bruno)

Wonderful, what will come out of darkness:

stars, owl voices, sleep;

water, green shoots, bird's eggs

with their own curved darkness;

gemstones; a whole and perfect child

from my unseen recesses; delight

from behind shut lids, finding each other,

fingers and tongues made delicate by night.

Great magic's performed after sunset.

Old alchemists conjuring angels,

witches dancing spirals under the moon;

drum-shamans, their spirit journeys;

three nights in a tomb

Staging a resurrection. Transformations

taking place out of ordinary sight.

Daylight gives us boundaries, fixes

everything. The world separates

into colours and chemicals, figures

and faces. Surfaces appear solid

reliable, unconfused. We can see

to operate complex machinery.

Only darkness permits mixing

of elements, stirring of essences

in secret, combing dark and bright

into new patterns while we sleep; so dawn

finds us transformed, shifted.

Star-particles link us with trees

dolphins and stones, travel through us

creating the universe. Base matter

becomes gold: in the Cauldron

of Annwyn, in the crucible of mind

we're all magicians. The Hidden Stone,

Elixir of Life, eludes us; we've lost

the art of working through touch

with invisible forces: but as darkness

rises, and we grope wildly, perhaps

out of chaos the magic will come right.

- Hilary Llewellyn Williams

Frozen 2 - The Sequel

2010-01-12T11:53:00.009Z

I've written on here before about the notion of being predicted by the weather. Once again I find the conditions outside - this time snowbound, frozen solid - mirror my internal process. I feel stuck, frozen, unsure of myself and hence unable to make any progress.

I have found a job, not easy in the current economic climate nor indeed in this area of the country. It's only a part time job, but I'm clinging onto it for now. After 15 years without a paying job, I know how important it is to keep my foot wedging open the door of employment. On the plus side, it is close to where I live and the people are nice. But - I hate it. It's both mind-numbingly boring and hard physically. I don't mind working hard if it's interesting, or being bored if it's easy. But this is hard and boring. Plus - I'm working alone which adds to the boredom factor. Not much use having lovely colleagues if your contact with them is minimal! The hours - a split shift - are horrible. And the pay is lousy.

All in all, not a great job. So I need to find something else. But what? After so many years outside the paid workforce I feel at a distinct disadvantage. Virtually everybody has more experience than me. It seems like a good idea to do some training in something, but to be honest, I'm not sure what I want to do. I was really drawn to the idea of working in Counselling, perhaps Grief Counselling, but I've been told it is not an easy field to make a living at. So I'm stuck, frozen, unsure of my next move.

At the same time I go back and forth in my mind wondering whether I should stay at Halfway Up A Hill, or make a clean break and move on. On the one hand, I have endeavoured since we moved here to make a connection with the land and really put down roots here. I have put a lot of effort into making this a permanent home. I also feel a part of the local community and have lovely neighbours. But...

Halfway Up A Hill is a lot for me to manage alone. It is really too big, and alone I am not physically able to keep on top of many of the jobs that need doing around the place. Though family, friends and IB help where they can, I still have a sense that the place is deteriorating faster than I can maintain it. And there are so many memories of my marriage to T here. Perhaps a clean break, a move to a smaller, more easily maintained property - still within this area - would be better?

Interestingly, in hunting out the URL for the post about being predicted by the weather, I found that I had already written a post entitled 'Frozen', almost exactly a year ago, which echoes - or foreshadows I suppose - some of my current feelings. Perhaps all this is just the winter blues. Or perhaps, as my wise and wonderful friend Anne Hill has just written, it is part of the ongoing struggle of Divorce: Year Two. I don't know.

I am frozen with indecision and quite frankly, yes, I am tired from the ongoing struggle. What I would like to ask anyone kind enough to comment is: What do you think? Any career tips? Any thoughts on moving? Any helpful words on how you got through your own divorce/career crisis/life crisis?

Any advice will be most gratefully received. Over to you...

RIP Blanche

2010-01-10T19:41:00.003Z

R.I.P. Blanche, Head Chicken and Bossy Boots. 2003-2010

The Ice Age

2010-01-06T16:52:00.008Z

Like most of the UK, we are currently enduring the most extreme snowy weather for decades.

It began on 21st December, when we awoke to find that heavy snow had fallen during the night. Temperatures had been below freezing for about a week beforehand, so the snow was slow in melting. The driveway here is steep, and leads out to a steep downhill slope, which made it impossible to use the car for a couple of days. However, by the afternoon of 23rd December, enough tarmac was visible for me to try driving into the village. The journey was a little hair raising on the way down, but the journey back was much worse. Although I was only gone for just over an hour, thick snow had begun to fall by the time I returned, and the car wheels spun uselessly as I attempted to get back to Halfway Up A Hill. Cursing my luck and coaxing the car, somehow I made it to the drive entrance, where I was only able to manoeuvre the car in through the gates and safely home with the help of my neighbour and IB, who was waiting anxiously at home for me.

Over the next couple of days, the snow fell, melted a little, re-froze into thick black ice, more snow fell, and repeated the cycle. By Christmas morning, the road to the house was completely impassable by car, and we feared we'd miss the family Christmas happening just a few miles away at my parents' new home. It was eventually arranged that if we could hike out on foot to the main road, Dad would come and pick us up. After making provisions for the animals, we quickly packed some goodies for an overnight stay, and stuffed them and the Christmas presents into two rucksacks. Dressed warmly in our Christmas finery with thick woolly jumpers, coats, scarves and boots, we slid gingerly down the hill where we were very relieved to find Dad waiting for us in a warm car.

Christmas was lovely, we had a wonderful time with Mum, Dad, and my brother, sister-in-law and nephew eating, drinking, laughing and of course watching the first instalment of the much anticipated Dr Who special! The next day, Dad drove us home. Overnight it had rained, and although there was still a lot of ice around, within a couple of days we were able to get the car out and stock up on much needed supplies for ourselves and the critters. We were also lucky enough to get a delivery of heating oil because on New Year's Day, the snow began falling again.
The day had been sunny and clear - although bitterly cold - and we were planning to drive over to Mum and Dad's again just after lunch to see my brother, sister and brother-in-law who were all visiting for New Year. Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - one of the chickens (Blanche, who is now quite advanced in chicken years) was looking unwell*, and with the weather being so bitter we decided to leave our departure until after sundown to ensure she was safely tucked up in the hen house for the night. This proved to be our salvation, as just before the sun set the snow began falling heavily. We waited to see if it would ease off, but it continued to fall and in the end we decided not to risk getting stranded.

It was a wise decision. Heavy snow once again blanketed the area, and the car was again stranded on the driveway. I hoped that at some stage we would be able to escape our icy prison and see my siblings, but it proved impossible - and this time Mum and Dad's house was as cut off as ours.

On Monday 4th January, I was due back at work (I currently have 2 part time jobs) and I managed to hike down the hill to catch a bus, this time with the aid of a torch as it was before dawn - yikes! However, it was soon clear that the weather was a severe handicap to business as usual, and I was sent home early from both jobs. Since then, we have had about 6-8" more snow (it snowed all day yesterday) and my place of work has been closed due to the weather.

It is nice not to have to go to work, and the snow looks so pretty. But I am more than tired now of our enforced isolation. The snow is now so deep - with thick, treacherous ice concealed beneath - that even going for a walk is out of the question. Just feeding the chickens is becoming an extreme sport! It is true to say that the novelty of this weather has well and truly worn off for me! And as yet there is no thaw in sight. Luckily we have plenty of provisions and the house is warm. In the meantime, I'm praying for a rise in temperature outside.

* For those worried about Blanche, rest assured that she is currently nestled cosily in a cardboard box next to a radiator in the house and is showing signs of improvement.

A New Year's Eve Benediction

2009-12-31T23:10:00.005Z

By the light of a post-eclipse moon so bright I could find my way down the frosted hillside without a torch, I stood alone in the meadow. The stars of Orion sparkled to the South.

Ten years I have lived in this place, ten years I have striven to tend and connect with the land. Tonight the valley lay before me in all its stark midwinter beauty, softened and silvered by moonlight on frost.

Something prompted me to make an offering, to commune with the Genus Loci, to give back in some way. I knelt and watched, and listened, opening my senses. What could I offer at this time?

Then it came to me: I could sing. The perfect gift in this perfect moment.

I sang, softly at first, a chant composed by my dear friend Donald Engstrom-Reese:

"Beauty before me,

Beauty behind me,

Beauty to my right side,

Beauty to my left side,

Beauty above me,

Beauty below me.

I have beauty surrounding my life."

I sang the chant three times, a magical number, ending with a whispered blessing:

"Blessed be all beings, seen and unseen, that inhabit this land. Blessed be all that have walked this land. Blessed be the Spirits of Place. Blessed be, Blessed be, Blessed be."

Then I walked back up the hill. By moonlight. Blessed Be, and a Happy New Year to all.

Review

2009-12-24T18:16:00.005Z

Snowed in on a cold, icy Christmas Eve, I have finally found time to look back over the last twelve months.

This year, I have mostly been

Picking up the pieces of my life and starting over

Re-finding myself and remembering who I truly am

Giving thanks for the beloved friends and family who stick with me through thick and thin

Stumbling my way back into paid employment for the first time in many years

Realising that my home is now my home, and making it truly mine

Mourning significant losses

Trusting my intuition as never before

Getting away from it all in Spain, Sussex, Somerset, Kent and Dorset with some of my favourite people

Finding that actually, I can be organised and efficient!
Contemplating a whole new world of possible futures
Enjoying having family living close by
Quite unexpectedly finding new love...

What have you mostly been doing this year?

Blessed Yuletide, Merry Christmas, and the Happiest of New Years to you.

Raining Cats and Dogs - And Chickens...

2009-11-04T11:29:00.007Z

The stormy winds blew all night, throwing down sheets of rain. By morning they had subsided into intermittent gusts and showers, but when the chickens came out of their house a strange sight met their eyes. In the adjoining run were some new chickens - three more Light Sussex and a pair of Black Rocks, the sun highlighting the iridescent green sheen on their feathers.

"I don't like it, I don't like it at all!" complained Bella the Cream Legbar, who was by nature highly strung.

"I've heard the humans speak of it raining cats and dogs, but never chickens..." muttered Mac, an ex-battery hen and the thinker of the group.

Could it have rained chickens? It was a very rainy night.

The little flock looked expectantly at Blanche, the head chicken (and a Light Sussex to boot). She would know what had happened.

Blanche looked at their waiting faces, and puffed out her chest importantly. "If it can rain cats and dogs," she opined solemnly, "Then as chickens are the superior species it stands to reason that an unusually heavy downpour would produce chickens."

The others nodded in agreement. The logic was watertight, even Mac couldn't deny it. It would go down in poultry history. The night it rained chickens.

D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

2009-10-29T09:01:00.011Z

(The title of this post being part nod to the Tammy Wynette song, part acknowledgement that this is Big Stuff and hence deserving of capital letters.)

I feel a little tightness in my chest even now as I say it. Divorce. My divorce is finalised. I am divorced.

Don't get me wrong - I am glad it is finally over, able to see it as a new beginning, and perhaps a good thing for both of us. Yet still there is a sadness, a grieving for what has been lost.

I grew up with parents who had a stable, loving marriage, and that was what I expected for myself, and what in fact I thought I had. T and I were together for a total of 23 years and 2 months before he dropped his bombshell and left. I realised the other day that it was just over half my life. And as I had absolutely no clue about his infidelity until that fateful day, no wonder it knocked me sideways.

Yet in the intervening months I have begun to look more closely at the fault lines in the relationship, the ones I hadn't even noticed or hadn't considered problematic. Yes, we loved each other but there were also fundamental differences in the way we approached life, and what we thought was important. For me one crucial difference was that T hated to talk about his feelings and his unhappy childhood, even to me. In the early stages of our relationship I thought that eventually he would feel safe enough with me to share those things. Over the years that failed to happen and I began to tell myself that was just the type of person he was. I now believe if he had been able to talk about his feelings more openly we may have been able to negotiate a course around the obstacles that eventually derailed the relationship. But that is all academic now. What's done is done, and no doubt T has his own version of what went wrong and why. There are after all two sides to every story and no one person holds full responsibility for what happens.

Yet still... 23 years. A huge chunk of my life was spent with T and most of that time was good. That is what I grieve for, and plan to release - or at least begin to release - at this time of Samhain. A time of ending and new beginnings, a time when we enter fully into the dark half of the year, a time to turn inward, meditating on what has been and dreaming of what will be.

I can feel myself changing. I believe I am becoming more fully myself. I am accepting this end and grieving for it. But also knowing that each end is a beginning, I am moving forward into the next stage of my life, eager to see where this new road will lead me...

Honest Blogger Award

2009-10-14T09:10:00.005+01:00

I am honestly honoured to find I have been awarded The Honest Blogger Award by Sue (aka The Purple Pixie) at her wonderful blog, The Creative Spirit. The award was ceated in response to Sue's post 'Telling It Like It Is'.

The Award states:

WE ARE Honest Bloggers!

the Sisterhood of SHIfT HAPPENS!

As honest bloggers we: (Cut, Copy, Paste, Delete, Add To... As You Wish)

Speak our truth from the heart and tell it like it is.

Share openly and honestly our true feelings without fear of judgement, blame or shame.

We write to share our achievements so others can also share our joy.

We write about our bad times too, knowing that the love and support of others is around us and perhaps heal another’s pain in the process...

We are human beings with real feelings and emotions and REFUSE to hide behind a mask.

We dare to be different.

We are Free Spirits.

We realise that by spilling out, we lighten our load.

We acknowledge our strengths and weaknesses and don't see them in terms of success or failure.

We laugh together and cry together.

We are all following our own journey in our own unique way.

Above all else, we may lie on the floor, screaming and kicking, or feel like life is collapsing around us once in a while… but at the end of the day, we drag ourselves up, dust ourselves off and rise to fight another day.

For we are Warrior Women and we write not to please others, stroke our own egos or be judged, we blog because we care! Our blogs are our therapy, and through sharing SHIfT HAPPENS!

*********

I haven't Cut, Copied, Pasted, Deleted, or Added To Sue's words as I love them just as they are. I feel truly honoured to be included in such august company! Apparently I now also have the right to bestow the award, so I plan to be passing the baton very soon...

The Beach

2009-09-28T21:11:00.006+01:00

Today Elizabeth and I walked on the beach, a lonely beach empty of other people. Heavy grey skies reflected pewter in the water. A solitary heron staked out the shoreline, poised and intent; seagulls swooped and squawked and squabbled.

Up on the hillside, the bracken was turning to rust, and autumn began idly plucking the leaves from the trees.

So still, so quiet, so magical. This place of eery peace felt as though it would be an easy step through into another world if only the entrance could be found or the right words spoken.

But we could not find the magic portal, and our tongues could not conjure up the necessary incantations. We left the wild and enchanting lonely beach, retracing our sandy footprints back to the land of humans.

But if I close my eyes, I can still hear the cry of the gulls...

The Mystery and Magic of Balance

2009-09-22T08:56:00.012+01:00

Today is the Autumn Equinox, also known to the Pagan community as Mabon or Madron. It is one of only two days in the solar calendar when night and day are of equal length. As such it is a potent symbol of balance, and many Pagan celebrations of the equinoxes focus on this aspect.

The thought occurring to me today is how rare that perfect balance is in nature and in our lives. After all, there are 365 days in a year (or 366 in a leap year) and yet on only two of those days are night and day perfectly balanced. How often do we truly feel that we have the work/leisure balance right in our life? How often do we experience the right balance of sun, wind and rain for our gardens to flourish? How often is there a glut of this, or a scarcity of that instead of just the perfect amount?

It would seem that perfect balance is something to strive for in our lives. After all, life in perfect balance is a life of ease, right? Well, yes... kinda. But at the same time, to truly flourish, life needs change. True balance equals stasis, an absence of change or growth or decay or innovation or evolution. And admittedly, all that stuff can be scary. Change is scary. Don't we all often find it easier to stay in a difficult or uncomfortable situation than to break away and try something different?

Last night I watched a re-run of the film 'Pleasantville'. In the film, two modern day teenagers are somehow transported into the seemingly idyllic world of Pleasantville, a 1950's TV show about a wholesome and 'perfect' small town. In Pleasantville everything is, well, pleasant. The townspeople are cheerful and friendly. Everyone lives pleasant middle class lives in comfortable homes. The youngsters are sweet and innocent, the school sports team always wins. Everyone is contented with their lot. And yet... to the outsiders, the drawbacks to life in Pleasantville soon become glaringly obvious.

To maintain this harmonious lifestyle, Pleasantville is in a kind of stifling stasis. The people are friendly, courteous and 'nice', but have no meaningful emotional life or true connection to each other. Each person fulfills his or her role within the town, but they are incapable of breaking free from those roles or using their initiative. The road in and out of town is actually a huge loop, leading to nowhere but Pleasantville. The books have titles printed on the spines, but the pages are blank - no room in a world like Pleasantville for ideas from 'outside'. Of course, the arrival of the newcomers soon sends ripples of change through the community, inevitably leading to strife. And yet the benefits of change are seen to be worth all the upheavals they cause. Gradually, Pleasantville's monochrome world changes to colour; the pages of the books become filled with words, stories, ideas; the townspeople experience hitherto undreamed of emotions - love, happiness, anger - and begin to live authentic lives, with all their inherent joy and pain.

This is the mystery and magic of balance. That in order to achieve it, we need to be constantly changing. That once we find it, something somewhere will shift and change and oops - yet again we will be juggling and adapting and altering, but most importantly learning and growing.

On this day of balance, I take time to notice and be grateful for the areas of balance in my life. But at the same time I remind myself that change is constant, inevitable - and what life is all about.

Twelve Go Mad in Dorset*

2009-08-24T19:26:00.009+01:00

"I say," said Moonroot one cold, wet winter's day. "I have an absolutely spiffing idea! Why don't we all go camping again this summer just like we used to! It will be such super fun!"

The others all agreed it was a grand idea, and just a few months later they packed their bags and set off down to Dorset for the summer hols. They even took Sancha the dog.

"Gosh, we are going to have such wonderful adventures! And lashings of ginger beer**!" declared Moonroot.

"Woof! Woof!" agreed Sancha, wagging her tail.

And they did.

* With apologies to Enid Blyton

** aka wine, beer and scrumpy.