Tag Archives: They Say That a Witch Lives Here

In the Garden

My voodoo lily’s in bloom. It’s beautiful but . . . pungent.

photo-221

Into the Dark

Foxglove

Foxglove


We’re now just a few days away from the Winter Solstice, when the long dark nights begin to give way, slowly, to the lengthening days. I’ve loved the long deep dark and it’s given me strong comfort as my work life has gotten increasingly more frentic. The discipline of leaving behind the concerns of the day and diving deep into the lovely dark does my soul so much good. I’m going to miss it in a few days when it’s time to turn my attention to Sol Invictus.

Yesterday, all of the immediate deadlines finally met, I left some research to a good paralegal and came home at noon for a conference call. My wonderful Landscape Guy and his crew came by for their annual Winter clean-up and planting. While my normal mow-and-rake guys come by and move most of the leaves (I am blessed with a lot of old trees, so I have a LOT of Autumn leaves) out to the curb for the county to come by and get for mulch, Landscape Guy’s crew actually rakes behind the bushy old euonymus and in between the rosemary and the thyme. They planted a few dozen Digitalis purpurea, aka, foxgloves, which I am hoping will self-seed and establish colonies in the cottage gardens, tons more “black” day lilies, more ferns and toad lilies in the shady bits of the yard, and more Casa Blanca lilies in the front cottage beds. They wound up the hoses and put them in the shed and generally put the garden to bed for a few months. I woke up this morning, finally aware that, since my landbase is now ready for winter, so am I.

December should be such a quiet time, all given to introspection, and, yet, the holiday parties and work seem to conspire to keep us focused outward in spite of our best intentions. I’m going to spend the final days before the Solstice going as deeply into Shadow as I can.

I shan’t be gone long; you come, too.

Picture found here.

Practicing with My Landbase


I had dinner the other evening with Landscape Guy and I was thanking him for my garden in Autumn. I told him that, while we collaborated to make my garden lovely in Spring and Summer, he was responsible for the fact that I really, really, really love my garden in Autumn. I was busy thinking, “I want lilacs in April and crocus in March, and daisies in August and casa blanca lilies in June,” but I never even thought about Autumn. Yet, here it is, November, and the toad lilies are just finishing, the Autumn camellias are going strong, and the glossy magnolias and Japanese temple pines are setting off the blazing red Japanese maples. November is all Landscape Guy’s doing.

I suspect that I say this every year, but this year, this year, this year — this year the Japanese maples are so red that it breaks your heart, that it turns you inside out, that it demands that you STOP and that you PAY ATTENTION. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to take pictures, but my iPad camera isn’t up to the task. There’s something that the clear, Autumn sunlight does to the leaves that just won’t show up on a camera. I would share them with you if I could; really I would.

There’s almost no fire in my chart. Whenever my madcap friend R. (a Reiki master) does Reiki on me, she says, “Wow. Your root chakra is weak.” Well, yes; yes it is.

One of the meditations that I do as part of my daily practice is one that I learned from my brilliant friend E. I work my way through each of my chakras, imagining the most vivid picture that I can call to mind of the color associated with each chakra.

Today, I’m getting ready for company on Wednesday (the curse of single people who like to entertain: starting early) and I’ve been cleaning and baking and preparing. But, in between the rosemary shortbread and the Chinese tea eggs, I’ve been going out to sit on my screen porch and work quite deliberately at absorbing the firery reds of the sun-lit Japanese maples that Landscape Guy put in my yard. And I pull that image into my root chakra. And I close my eyes and I visualize it there, even in the dark, even when the leaves are all gone. And I gaze at the firery reds of my sun-lit Japanese maples and I pull that image into my root chakra and I close my eyes and I visualize . . . .

This is how I do a spiritual practice that is rooted in my own Bit of Earth, in my landbase, how I do a spiritual practice that honors the spirits and powers and beings of this land.

What was your spiritual practice today?

Picture by the blogger. If you copy, please link back.

Four Thousand Words*

Hat tip to Garden Design

One of My Major Goals with G/Son

Anais Hits Another One Out of the Ballpark

My Toad Lilies Are About to Bloom; Here’s One from Last Year

*Normal blog-related activities will resume tomorrow.

Almost-Litha Garden Blogging

It was a rainy day, but I came home from work to find that my daylilies have begun to bloom. This one is Bela Lugosi.

What’s blooming for you, here on the cusp of Litha?