Nearly half the way through the month of may, I for one was expecting to be telling tales of life on the other side of the Beltane hedge, but alas we are still waiting for the may to rise, the sky soon once again to be clear of the vapour trail is somewhat deserted by the trail of the broom , the spirit roads remain quiet.
As I write the warm spring sun pushes its heat through the barely white tips of the Hawthorn outside and through my window,unseasonably cold this month has been until now, after all the roodmass usually heralds the start of summer, the time of the oak, even down here in the southwest the leaves of said tree are still stretching their limbs and pushing sap toward their tips, the greening is coming but taking its time this year.
On the spring time theme, our hens are enjoying the shift, half of them are now sat on eggs while old Foghorn struts around the garden like the expectant father, the cruak of the raven fills the sky above while old shuck continues to bark at shades in house and grove.
The trickster has taken a break from harassing the Cunning mans beloved, perhaps himself deciding to take a rest amongst the bluebell woods, while the others prepare for the time of love, lust and frivolity.
An odd time for those of us who feel we are governed by the tides of nature, puzzled looks when replying to the question "how was your Beltane" with the answer"actually I am still waiting", how many people have carried the Blackthorn boughs into their homes, the blossom on that one has stayed well into this month, even turning this old tree man's head on occasion.
T's artwork is springing forward to new levels of excellence, this is how the changing times effect her, some truly marvelous soul art is being born as I write, this is how she performs her rites of spring. www.victoriamacleod.co.uk
The creative energy in that one humbles me and my efforts, yet I take an enormous pride in the fact that in some way she paints the world and its symbols, exactly as I see it. In this time of deepening love and partnerships I am trying to coerce her back into the compass once again, selfishly trying to tap into that force to create something magickal in the other places, we have enjoyed those pleasures in the past and hopefully they shall return in the future.
I know she will read this, and to her I give my love and it shall endure across all eternity, between all worlds, not even to be separated by the veil, as it has always been.
There you are, Cunning mans heart bared open for all to see, waiting as patiently as I can for manifestation of summer, poetic thought and declarations of undying love, Roodmass is definitely approaching.
On the final point, the may pole is eager to receive the maid, T says that it has a mind of its own and possibly its own solar calendar, as it seems to think that every day should be May Day....