We have lived here for 11 months and are establishing ourselves in a beautifully established garden.
The wheel is turning from Samhain to Yule, bringing with it a quiet time of reflection and introspection - allowing space and time for mourning and for honouring what once was.
This week they cut down two of the big trees in the back of the garden on the neighbour’s land. Only by half, but we weren’t to know at the time, and it was unsettling to witness despite trying to reassure each other of myriad logical and necessary reasons for the chop.
I resolve to ask for fruit trees for Yule and to get a bat box.
Although at first glance, the garden seems quiet there is a lot to do amidst the decaying splendour. It has just clicked that there are foxgloves growing up in the veg patch. Now that Ted is eating leaves he has sown and grown himself in the patch these need moving immediately. Twenty minutes later we have a cottage garden area full of foxgloves and, somewhat essentially, nothing poisonous in the veg patch.
The last of the bulbs go in with some pink tulips and King Alfred’s narcissi at the front of the house (how long until I run the pot over?)
Things are gradually getting colder and are turning towards the solstice. I love the solstices. Yule is a joyous, liminal space between darkness and light.
To welcome the changes we mowed the lawn, raked the leaves into a glorious leaf mould heap and mulched the artichokes. Any remaining hoglets in need of nourishment will find lots of worms and hedgehog food for them.
As the light faded we had hot chocolate on the porch and watched a conference of crows (murder conference?!) in a seed laden ash tree.
Nothing is better for my mood than being outside and in an effort to winter well we have started our next attempt at 1,000 hours outside. I’ll write more on this theme as the season unfolds.
Today has been a day of love, joy and rebirth. We’re now by the fire absorbing all of Brigid’s loving and sustaining, transformational energy. We are entering a time of deep rest, a shedding of what no longer serves us but in a way that is without resistance and peaceful for all beings involved.
Not running towards what is fading away. And softening into real life.