Lammas 2009 (or is it?)

Lammas 2009 (or is it?)

And laughing I ran into the garden to harvest for the Lammas feast, remembering my father I smiled further, for childhood years I had believed his theory, to run faster so as to run between the drops of rain, now an adult, weighed by years, I know the space between the drops, I know it well and seek it often. But there was no escaping this deluge which commanded me to take delight in the elemental force, to embrace the wind whipping through my hair and to be cleansed by air filtered water, all preparation for the celebration ahead. A day of gathering, cooking, drinking and eating and a fire in the family hearth to cheer, warm and comfort. The pink quartz carefully placed to amplify the heart of our home and candles lit against the gloom.
Busy now and giving thanks for the garden’s bounty, making loganberry jam, blueberry and apple cakes, chopping cabbage and washing muddy potatoes, turnip, fennel and peas that pop themselves from their rain swollen pods. The men prepare their meat with herbs and spices chatting in between companionable pauses. I think of my mother and her years spent nurturing and how the cycle continues, of her parents and back further to ancestors who crossed the border and came back with mutton for the harvest feasts and against the winter ahead. I think, as in a flash, of older times, the smoke filled roundhouse, my daughters singing and my men folk boasting and testing their prowess and skill, of cooking and preserving and then I think again of life’s cycle, how the basics are the same, how the things that give me joy remain, my family, my friends, caring and sharing, loving unconditionally and music, loud, wild, soft, calming, joyful, simple or complex, all touches my heart or lifts my soul.

Then my thoughts widen and I consciously send on ethereal waves my heartfelt blessings full of light and love to all my friends, old new and yet to be.

I thank the earth, the gods and guardians for the cyclical nature of life, for their disregard of mankind’s concept of linear time. And more, for the glimpses of wisdom this gives to those who choose to look between the gaps in the rain.

Lindsey Starborn