Blessings of the first harvest!
Blessings of the first harvest!
Finally recovered from our full moon and eclipse ritual the other night. It can be so difficult sometimes, when you work hard all day, and then have a ritual in the evening. But then you do it, and it’s so rewarding, and often just what you need to reconnect, with each other, with the land, sea and sky, with the deities, the ancestors, etc.
We gather here, we witches
Under the light of the moon
To bless each other and the Mother
Who brings the harvest soon
We stand here on the shore
Looking out to sea
Where the god will soon pass over
And we wish him blessed be
– Joanna van der Hoeven
As I relaxed in my new hammock the other night (very comfy!) with my cat on my lap I could hear the slow rumble of the combine harvester in a nearby field. This is early, I thought. Last year the wheat crop came in early because of the nearly two-month drought and extensive heat wave, which meant the stalks stopped growing at the beginning of June and just dried out early. But this year we’ve had just a little less than average rainfall, mostly in the evenings, and everything is looking really good. But some crops are still ready early, and this wheat field was no exception. Perhaps due to climate change, farmers in my area can get their crops in earlier, to reap earlier. It’s a bit risky, but when you need to rent that combine harvester, you won’t have to be fighting all the other farmers who also want to get their crops in, if you’re a couple of weeks early!
And so today I went for a walk, to look at the harvested field. The low grey clouds scudded the brow of the hill, and poppies and other wildflowers lined the footpath that divided the large field area into sections. Walking past the growing onions on either side, when I reached the top of the hill there, on the left-hand side, was the section of the field now bare of its golden treasure. There’s a certain feel and smell just after a harvest; a good smell and also a kind of empty smell, if that makes any sense. What was there was no longer there, and the scent left in its wake will soon also just be a memory.
I always feel happy and melancholy when I look out over the harvested fields. I love this time of year, when summer truly has settled in, and the warmth really kicks in; the flowers are at their peak, the young birds are on the wing. It’s a joyous time, when the thick, lush green canopy of the trees hangs heavy, the air warm and sometimes humid. And yet, when you stand on the edge of a cut field, you feel all this amidst a sort of sadness that flows from the heart, because you know that the height of summer has passed, and the harvest has begun. I can be both joyous during harvest time, and also sad, for soon it will all end.
I suppose it’s a lesson in mindfulness, to be present in the moment. If I’m too sad about the turning of the seasons, I’ll miss the joy right now. And if I don’t honour the poignant time of the beginning of the harvest and simply ignore it, then I will be missing the important time of the turning tide of the seasons, and also the lesson of impermanence.
So I will visit the fields in turn, and listen out for the big machinery. Walking home past a field of barley, I could sense it would be a couple of weeks yet, but it was coming. But the barley whispered to me, “Don’t be sad now, for the sun is shining and we are ripening. Turn your face to the sun, and allow it to bring to fruition that which you dreamt of when you were just planting the seeds of your intention. And when the times comes, and it will, you can reap the harvest of what you have sown with joy and compassion.”
Barley is very wise.
Hi all! This is just a quick note to let you know that I have a new Patreon page, where you can help support the work that I do across various forms of media. I’m about halfway through a video series on Modern Witchcraft, entitled “Witchy Ways” on my YouTube channel, and am looking forward to recording and editing some more videos soon. I’m also recording the next audiobook which will be available on my Bandcamp page and I’m hoping to put up a new podcast series there as well. As well, I’m still trying to contribute as much as possible to my blogs, here at Down the Forest Path and at Pagan Square, which all takes quite a bit of time! An author’s income is not a heady one, so I’ve diversified and am enjoying using other forms of media.
You can start from as little as $1 a month; simply enter the amount you wish to provide when you click on the “become a patron” button. And so, if you can support me across these endeavours, it would be greatly appreciated!
Hi all! Here’s my latest video in my new YouTube series, exploring the “witchier” side of my practice 🙂 Blessings of Ostara, and the full moon to you!
Loreena Mckennitt was absolutely brilliant at the Royal Albert Hall last night. I have been a fan of her and her music for a quarter of a century now, and last night I got to see her and her ten other supremely talented musicians up close and personal.
She played all my favourites, from the new album Lost Souls and also from her older material, including many of my “witchy/pagan” favourites, such as All Soul’s Night, Pagan Trees (newly titled Ages Past, Ages Hence), the Mystic’s Dream and more. For the encore, she played my absolute most favourite song in the world: “Tango to Evora”, starting with just her on her Troubadour harp and Ana Alcaide on nyckelharpa, and then slowly all other ten musicians joined in, until it was just a beautiful wall of music and enchantment that took my breath away. Rousing favourites were, of course, Santiago and the mysterious and alluring Marco Polo. And ending with Dante’s Prayer, and the vocals trailing off into a whisper… “Please remember me.”
I can’t tell you how happy I am to have seen this and heard these wonderful musicians playing together in the incredible setting of the Royal Albert Hall. Overwhelmed. www.loreenamckennitt.com