Sunday, 27 June 2010
The wild Rose blooms.Honouring the man in black and the Witch who was burned.
The wild Roses are reaching their peak in the Cunning man's tame and wild places, the timing of which is somewhat appropriate to the passing of Roy Bowers, to whom the fires were lit this week in honour of his passing many years ago.
Honouring those who have built the paths that we now travel is an important part of our Craft, those who still linger within living memory are equally as important to us as those whose shades have walked the circles edge for Milena, often they are one and the same, working alongside us all, unseen by all without the wit to look .
The blossom on Her tree has already started to turn brown and it seems it will not be long till the branches are heavy once more with the black fluid laden fruit, Bees are swarming and last night's full moon shone bright with orange hue, in reflection perhaps of her lover at his peak.
Restoration of the farmhouse has this week left this one burnt to a crisp, mixing Lime mortar in the full heat of the midsummer, building walls and removing the old materials, while my skin begins to turn to leather my mind is very much prone to wander.
Laborious tasks and Witchcraft are not great bedfellows, a tired body makes for a feeble mind, the craft demands more of creativity and thought than brawn, my working arrangements fit within my own structure and I soon will be able to blossom once more with my creative energy, comfortable with the fact that I have provided the proverbial flags, flax and fodder for me and mine, it is often plenty enough for me to return home covered in the dust and dirt of the building world to see the beauty in the creations of my beloved, who upon Fate has provided a fresh muse, one more week to go then some time to the self.
I met some good people today, perhaps the call has been answered, only time will tell, but I think Fate has thrown in her hand once more, she has guided me thus far and continues to do so, it is all about going with the flow, just occasionally having to swerve to avoid the eddies and pitfalls that happen along the way, a touch of twisting here and there and she takes good care of the rest, if it ever gets too much just step out of the flow and rejoin it elsewhere, ultimately she will always look after her own, as one of the above mentioned today.
The sky here is once more filled with Raven song, soaring high above the green yet slightly scorched fields, far above their dark brethren who flit between cultivation and pasture tutoring the fledged in the skills of avian survival, old Bran has been a large presence in our lives this year, when we came he was a rare sight, now he is ever present, even manifesting in T's artwork. As the messengers of Odin they bring wisdom and learning to my house, far from the portents of doom so often associated, one mans poison is indeed food for another.
Stonehenge, my initial joy at the smiling faces of the solstice celebration has turned to bitterness, due to those who decided to treat our sacred place as a makeshift landfill site, shame upon all those responsible, may they all be rendered infertile and unable to create any more over consuming filthy spawn, don't they realise that the local police and English heritage want one excuse to shut the whole thing down, graffiti started the whole thing(maybe deliberately by the above, we shall never know), stay at home next time, watch the sun rise over your local landfill instead, many of those are too young to remember those who fought for the right to be there, sometimes literally, show some respect to your ancestors living and passed or stay away.
So like wise, may all those who helped to clear up the detritus of these morons be blessed with love and happiness, as it is only through your actions that the party is able to continue, a big thank you all whoever you are from one who once but no longer walks the stones.
World cup fever grips the nation, our team, simpletons who are payed far to much money to kick an inflated pigs bladder around a grass field, Glastonbury festival, now not about the music as much as the being there and Wimbledon, Cliff , Champagne and Strawberries, not a Womble in sight.
Sorry about the rant everyone! as I said, tired body, feeble mind.
Time to throw the TV out of the window