Beltaine is the time of year when we celebrate the return of life to the Earth after Winter’s long sleep. The celebration can be seen everywhere. Animals and birds call for their mates and tend their nests. Eggs hatch, green shoots emerge, trees and flowers begin to bloom, and new generation rises from the joy of it all. Maypoles spring up across the land, symbolic of the creative energies now rampant in creation.

As a green Witch whose birthday is within a few days of this sabbat, Beltaine has always been my favorite time of year. I especially enjoy renewing my herb garden, brushing the blanket of leaves and dead stalks aside to see what survived and sowing seeds of the coming year’s delights.  Finding appropriately symbolic offerings and altar decorations is an annual quest for many celebrants.

And so Google is bombarded with search requests for “Beltaine herbs” and the like. Books on the subject may also be consulted. The results can be overwhelming, In a recent experimental online search, everything from All-heal to Zinnias came up.

What exactly are the herbs of Beltaine? The best advice is to look around you and find what is in bloom now, taking only small token sprigs and leaving the rest of the flowers to produce their seeds.

However, be very cautious and sure of what plants you are picking. Many years ago, when I was just an innocent Witchling wandering the fields in search of Beltaine flowers, I brought home bouquets of a lovely flower that I thought was white yarrow. Eventually I learned that this was actually garlic mustard, a nasty invasive plant that is taking over meadows, fields, woods, parks and even backyards, overgrowing the native plants upon which the residents of these places depend on for their natural habitat. Nowadays I still pick garlic mustard, but with the intention of destroying it.  And with every pluck, I laugh at myself for my foolishness and wonder if the Goddess was pleased with my accidentally dreadful offerings. (Yarrow on the left, Garlic Mustard on the right below)

Another example of a Beltaine herb-gathering run amok happened at a public gathering where women were making garlands to wear in the ritual. Merrily weaving greens and flowers from the surrounding fields, suddenly someone noticed that their friend was blissfully creating a wreath mainly composed of poison ivy! How embarrassing.

Back to the trusty Google search as a reference source – not so trusty when used to hunt for reliable information about the sabbats in general, let alone which/witch herbs are appropriate. A search launched just before the writing of this article brought up some puzzling results, including the culinary herbs of paprika, curry, and radish! What these have to do with Beltaine is perhaps a mystery into which I have yet to be initiated. Many of the plants on the lists have not yet risen from their wintry beds in my locale (Pittsburgh, PA, USA) , such as ferns, which are only now unfurling, and roses that normally bloom  here in June.

Again, it is wisest to use what is growing in your area, as long as you are absolutely certain it is safe and really does represent the intent and spirit of Beltaine.

Hawthorn is the best-known Beltaine significator. In fact one of its nicknames is “May”. The fragrant, lusty-scented flowers are a perfect emblem of the season. Many consider it bad luck, though, to bring them into the house because of the connection with faery.  This is one of the trinity of faery tree lore, the Oak and Ash and Thorn.

If you are fortunate enough to have a Hawthorn near you, you can do this simple but potent ritual on May Eve. Get a ribbon or strip of cloth in the color that matches your intentions. Generally red is for passion and energy, green for abundance or fertility, yellow for joy, purple for spiritual growth, and white for peace and purity. Or use whatever color means something to you. Meditate on your wish as you hold the ribbon, then ask the spirit of the Hawthorn to help make it come true. Remember, you must do your part in manifesting it as well. Then say your wish out loud and hook the ribbon onto one of the tree’s thorns. Be careful because Hawthorn can be wicked, although a small blood sacrifice may add to the magic! Don’t forget to leave a thank-you offering under the tree. Honey and milk, or crumbs from the sabbat cake and a splash of wine are always acceptable. (note: make sure your ribbons are biodegradable!)

May the greenery and flowers of Beltaine bring you blessings of the season!

 

 

 

 

 

In the first part of this two-part article, I wrote about the effects of the Moon on plant growth according to phases. Now it’s time to dig into the next area – gardening by the Signs of the Moon.

The Moon goes through an entire round of the Zodiac in about 28 days, a lunar month or what I like to call “moonth”, spending approximately two and a half days in each Sign. If you keep your Moon calendar handy, one that not only shows the phases but also the Signs, you can plan your gardening activities in harmony with the best possible times.

The 12 Signs are either fruitful and barren, according to their elemental nature – Fire, Air Earth, or Water – as follows:

Aries: The first of the Fire Signs is also a barren sign,  being hot and dry. This is a good opportunity for weeding and pruning to cut back growth, especially if the Moon is also waning.

Taurus: Earth Signs are generally the best time to plant root crops. This Venus-ruled Sign is productive and moist,  second best for planting seeds, and transplanting. Taurus favors whatever grows in beauty, such as sweetly scented flowers. If you have a potpourri garden or are planting, cultivating, or harvesting material for perfumes, adornments, or other pleasurable purposes, Moon in Taurus smiles upon this.

Gemini:  Cut herbs, roots, or other plants when the Moon is in an Air or Fire Sign and you can be sure they will dry nicely. This is another good time for weeding.

Cancer: The most fertile Sign, this is the best time for any kind of planting or transplanting, since Cancer is a fruitful Water sign, ruled by the Moon. It’s also a good time to irrigate and fertilize. If you are pruning to encourage more growth,  or grafting, do it now.

Leo: This is the hottest of the barren Signs, ruled by the Sun, an excellent time to kill weeds or garden pests, especially on the waning Moon. The art of topiary or shaping shrubs is favored by Moon in Leo.

Virgo: The Virgin of the Zodiac is also a barren Sign, even though an Earth Sign. Moon in Virgo  signals time to work the soil, plow, till, or cultivate. Stir the compost. Flowers and vines come under the rulership of Virgo, especially medicinal plants. Divide and transplant perennial flowers when Moon in Virgo comes in the third quarter phase. Rid weeds and pests when in the fourth quarter.

Libra: A semi-fruitful Sign because it is Venus-ruled, but also an Air Sign, which is not very helpful except for planting flowers, herbs,  and vines. Flowers picked when the Moon is in Libra last the longest.

Scorpio: Fertile and fruitful, second only to Moon in Cancer for seed germination and rapid growth. Moon in Scorpio is best for sturdy plants and vines, good for transplanting. Tomatoes, corn, and squash are Scorpio’s favored crops. Graft or prune in the third or fourth quarter Scorpio Moon to slow growth or promote fruit. Prune, water and fertilize in the 4th quarter.

Sagittarius: Hitch the Centaur to the plow when Moon is in this Sign. Put the energy of this Fire Sign to work harvesting, spreading compost, or enriching the soil. Plant potatoes, onion sets and fruit trees. Harvest root crops and onions for storage.

Capricorn: Productive but dry, Moon in Capricorn is fertile for everything under the ground, such as roots, bulbs, rhizomes, tubers and stalks. Prune branches that need strengthened. This is the time for grafting, pruning to promote healing, and applying organic fertilizer.

Aquarius: The Moon in this dry Air Sign is excellent for gathering herbs, roots, or other plants to dry and preserve. It is also another chance to weed out unwanted growth and banish pests.

Pisces: The last of the three Water Signs is most favorable for root growth and of course watering. It is very productive and moist, second best for planting and transplanting in the third quarter phase. Prune, water, and fertilize in the 4th quarter. Sow seed for good root growth.

This is a simplified and very basic guide to gardening by the Moon Signs. As you experiment through the year, keep a journal of your successes and failures, being careful to note the lunar phases and Signs. The more you use moon-gardening methods, the easier it will be to fall into the rhythm of Nature’s year-round dance.

Note: I highly recommend Louise Riotte’s “Astrological Gardening” which has been my trusted handbook for many years. It is now out of print but copies are still available through Amazon and other booksellers and well worth the price! 

 

People have been planting, cultivating, and reaping crops according to the phases of the Moon since time began. Many still see this as silly superstition, but it has been scientifically proven that Luna does, in fact, have a certain pull on our Earthly world. Probably the best-known influence is on the tides, which are always highest when the Sun and Moon line up at the new and full lunar phases. Not just the larger bodies of water but all water is affected by this. Moisture in the ground also responds to this force by rising. For example, seeds absorb the most amount of nurturing water when the moon in full, making the waxing moon time the best time for planting.

If you want to try experimenting with this, get a moon calendar.  The Old Farmers’ Almanac is a trusty source.

Since today is the New Moon in Aries, it’s the perfect time to start any new projects. To get started, here is a simplified guide to what to plant according to the lunar phases.

New Moon: From now until the Second Quarter, there is waxing light and the gravitational force will be pulling the moisture up from the ground. This is a good time for a balance of leaf and root growth, above and below ground. Plant crops that bear seeds outside their fruits, such as grains, cabbage, cauliflower, broccoli, lettuce and spinach.

Second Quarter: There is less gravitational pull during this phase but the light is still increasing, so it is favorable for general planting, particularly two days before the full moon for best results. This timing will make use of the upswing of energy. Plants that do well if sown in the Second Quarter are annuals that grow above ground with their seeds growing inside, such as beans, peppers, squash, tomatoes, peas and melons.

Full Moon:  At Full Moon time, lunar pull is strong and the moisture is rising in the soil. Right after Full Moon, the light begins to wane and energies decrease, making it a better time to focus on root crops that grow underground, like carrots, potatoes or beets, along with perennials, bulbs. Generally, this is the best phase in which to do any transplanting. Root growth is active now.

Fourth Quarter: This is time for resting, best for activities such as pruning, transplanting, harvesting, and cutting back plants to retard growth. To prune for increased growth, use the waxing phase.

Another dimension to gardening by the Moon is using the Signs of the Zodiac. The patterns of the lunar phases are generally agreed upon by all who use them, whereas the influence of the various Signs often differs among practitioners.

During its 28 day orbit around Earth, the Moon traverses the Zodiac, passing through a different Sign every 2 – 3 days. The Signs are divided into four classes according the Elements of Air, Earth, Fire, and Water in addition to each one having its own unique qualities. Generally Earth and Water Signs are considered fertile, good for planting and growth, and Fire and Air Signs are barren, best for weeding or pruning.

In the next part of this series, we’ll explore the Signs and delve deeper into what gardening activities to do on specific dates, so stay attuned to Green Witchery for more to come soon!

 

Blue swirl of ocean motion,

Sacred potion of human life –

Alchemy in salt and water,

Sons and daughters of our strife –

Birthing inside plastic vial,

Cradle laboratory file.

 

Yellow smear of sullied sun,

Bright lump of ample gold –

Praise to Thee, O Blessed Star

That warms the seas so cold.

Make fertile this barren land,

Synthesis of no-man’s hand.

 

Green swatch of bungled jungle,

Mangled remnant ragged trees –

Haggard ghost of howler monkey

Serenades the shattered breeze.

Let your poisoned song be hurled,

An anthem for this brave, blue world.

 

copyright 2019, Goldie Brown

 

(Tar Molta is a form of ancient Irish bardic satire composed of an “outrage of praise” or a ludicrously over-the-top praise poem that extols virtues which the subject completely lacks.)

Light and shadow, shadow and light,

Balance me and make things right!

Bless the land, the plants and trees

Butterflies and birds and bees!

Give us strength to help us grow –

As above, so below!

 

Spring Equinox art by Jenny Heston

 

 

 

 

The park across the street from where I live is relatively small for a Pittsburgh park. It only has three pavilions and they are named after local police, fallen in the line of duty. Not a very pleasant theme, in my opinion.  I am in the park at least once a day with my canine companion and we roam the park as well as the woods that surround it. Over the years that we’ve been enjoying this, I secretly adopted the pavilion nearest the woods, a shady, quiet place, and I gave it another name. It is officially called Crawshaw Grove, but I call it Shadow Grove. I have done a lot of meditating, singing, and generally communing with nature back there. I bless the area on a regular basis and talk to the trees. Green Witchery stuff, you know.

Last week Johnny and I found the gates to the park open, although it is still closed to the public for the winter. The Department of Public Works does maintenance sometimes, so I didn’t think much about it. We made our way through the park to Shadow Grove, as usual. It was the first warm day and I was thinking we might venture into the woods and see what signs of Spring we could find.

As we approached the back of the park, I saw the scoop of a backhoe rear its ugly head on the horizon, like a hungry monster seeking prey. Before I could even wonder what was going on, I gasped as the agonizing crack and crunch of a tree being uprooted hit me right in the heart.

From the top of the small knoll overlooking Shadow Grove,  unspeakable horror was unfolding before my eyes. Trees were being smashed down and ripped out of the ground by the backhoe. I knew these trees, I knew each one. There was the mossy red oak that I loved to touch. Two other oaks had grown up together as a pair, joined at the roots. One of them had a knothole that looked like a face. The other one had fungus growing like faery steps up the side. As the backhoe continued to destroy them, I had to turn away before the chain saws began to roar.

My sister, by chance, works in the office of Public Works. When I could speak without tears choking my voice, I called and asked her why.  Stone-cold, she replied, “Liability.” That infuriated me. “Liability?” I echoed, “What liability? A tree falling on someone?”  I didn’t wait for the answer and hung up the phone.

The next day, we walked into the park as usual but I just couldn’t bear to go back to what was left of Shadow Grove. Another day and I was ready to survey the damage. I felt drawn to give whatever comfort and healing I could offer to the surviving trees, for surely they were mourning the loss in their own way. Imagine growing up beside someone into adulthood and maturity, then having them suddenly destroyed. I don’t know how old those trees were but I played in that park when I was a child and some of them must be older than my 67 years.

It was worse than I even imagined. I recognized pieces of my friends strewn across the now barren landscape. A few younger trees hadn’t even been uprooted, they were simply hacked where they stood. I thought of not only the gone trees but all the wildlife that knew them as part of their homes. I whispered prayers and wept.

Some of Shadow Grove still remains. They left the trees alone that are near the pavilion, making me question the “liability” of all this. I walked among them, touching them and offering comfort in the best way I could, hoping my human touch would be some small consolation.

(Apologies for the blurred photos, partly the fault of my inadequate phone camera, partly due to my trembling hands.)

 

Today is New Moon in Pisces. I always look forward to this time of the year and consider it an extra-special New Moon. It has meant different things to me through the years.

At first, it was seed-starting time. If you garden by the Moon, you know Pisces is one of the fertile, watery signs and the New Moon phase is a golden opportunity to either put seeds into the ground if you live in a warm climate, or if you live in a place like Pittsburgh where the soil is still ice-cold, start them indoors in pots under grow-lights. This schedule has never failed to produce happy, healthy seedlings for me.

Another aspect of New Moon in Pisces is one last chance to look back over the past year, take stock of your wins and losses, or what’s working and what needs scrapped. Energies are rising now as we move together toward Spring Equinox and Beltaine. Follow Mother Nature’s example and wake up from your wintry trance, but gently, making sure to take careful note of your dreams. Pisces is the last Sign of the Zodiac, and is symbolized by two fishes looking in two different directions. It is time to look back and look forward, while being firmly aware of your current place.

The weather is fickle as Fishes, as the last annual  battle between Winter and Spring, the Hag and the Maiden, or simply Dark and Light comes to a grand finale. Extremes are to be expected. It may be hard to find balance amid the wild winds, but take heart that these winds are scattering seeds (visible and invisible) to the exact places where they belong. March is full of messages carried on the winds for those who have ears to hear.

What does New Moon in Pisces mean to me this year? Fully into Cronehood, I feel comfortable with the Hag, the Dark, and all things that must end. New Moon in Pisces speaks to me of the fragility of mortality, the mysteries which we all must eventually embrace, and yet it also speaks of movement, change and renewal, promising that these three things are always within reach. The endless cycle of germination or gestation, birth or sprouting, flowering or fruiting, seeds falling to the ground to begin again – this is the image that comes to me with New Moon in Pisces.  Every ending holds the seeds of another beginning.

 

 

 

 

“Blame Not the Weather”

(A Conachlonn for Spring)

Blame not the weather,

However it storms.

Dormant in season,

Reason to sleep,

Deep-dreaming

Streaming eyes,

Guise of sorrow.

Tomorrow’s song

Belongs to Spring..

Bring out the words

Heard only in halls

Stalled by quiet.

Deny it no more!

Soar from the heart,

Art true-spoken.

Broken wings mend,

Attended with care.

Dare to exclaim!

Blame not the weather.

 

copyright 2019     Goldie Brown

 

(Note: A conachlonn is a simple bardic form of chain verse.)

 

Persephone’s fate unfurled,

In one thunderclap.

Darkness fell.

Flowers faded to brown,

Spilling silver seeds

On the trembling ground.

 

Cold clutch of claws,

Hard-bitten fingernails

Scraped the frost,

Blood frozen in veins.

Thrust of rusty roots whispered,

“Trust the dark!”

 

Hope is queened in despair,

Crowned with brittle ice

In dream-ridden sleep.

No offerings befit her.

White snowbanks flank

Her barren earthen realms

In vigil of virgin yearning.

 

From remembrances

Unforgotten, heart-held,

Secrets seeds are captured

By winter’s wicked winds.

Entombed in fertile womb,

Strength of golden crocus

Bursts silently into bloom.

 

by Goldie Brown

 

(I would love to credit the artist of the accompanying portrayal of Persephone but I searched and searched and could not find a name attached to it anywhere!)

 

According to tree lore, the Yew is associated with endings, the Birch with beginnings. Between the Birch and the Yew is a gateway, a door to the “otherworld” if you will. This time of the year, when we are moving from Yew to Birch in the tree calendar, is theperfect time to explore these two trees and find out what can be discovered by walking between them.

The phrase “between the Birch and the Yew” first came to me through the writings of Caitlin Matthews, specifically in her Celtic Wisdom Tarot. This version of tarot is based on two themes: figures from Celtic myth; and the tree or Ogham system. Gifted of this tarot and accompanying book by a dear friend several Yuletides ago, I never did use the cards for readings. Instead, I fell headfirst into the meditation cycle outlined in the last few pages of the book, a yearlong sequence that moves through the seasons with various trees and guides along the way.

The meditations often stretch out into beautiful journeys that travel inner and otherworldly landscapes, providing plenty of spiritual sustenance to bring back and apply to everyday life once the journey is done. Although different trees, places, and figures are met in different seasons, the beginning and end of the meditation is always the same, venturing out past certain familiar landmarks and returning to the same. Obviously this is a wise and fairly standard safeguard for any kind of spirit-travel because you always want to be able to always find your way back to a grounded and warm welcome home, while retaining whatever treasures you gathered during your sojourn.

Matthews begins each meditation by instructing the participant to visualize themselves standing before a holey stone that is between a Yew and a Birch. A simple invocation is created by the participant to set the intention. The pattern of the invocation never varies, to include a statement of presence (for example – “Between the birch and yew, before the sacred stone I stand”), a couple lines describing intent (“I come in search of wisdom bright”) and a general petition for protection (“Walk with me, Soul Friends, hearts of light”). With that, the journey begins with passage through the holey stone, between Birch and Yew.

The content of the meditation itself is beyond the scope of this simple article, which is necessarily limited to the symbolism and usage of the two trees, but suffice it to say that the meditation ends by coming back through the portal and grounding out according to personal practice.

The various significant Ogham trees naturally change through the year, with different ones for each occasion. The Birch and the Yew, however, remain constant as markers of the gateway between the worlds because they are the beginning and the ending, birth and death, creation and destruction, pillars of light and dark. These two trees can move around the Wheel of the Year with us, as we face in all of the sacred directions in turn to seek wisdom.

(Yew hedge with silver Birch in the distance, photo from http://www.badwitch.co.uk/2016/08/pagan-eye-yew-hedge-gate-and-silver.html)

Currently, for January/February, northeast is where the opening lies, the easiest passage for what Matthews calls “soul travel”. On Winter Solstice, true North was the portal. For Spring Equinox, let your spirit flow out from between the Birch and Yew to the East. And so on and so forth, around the Circle.

Why these two trees? Because the Birch is one of the first trees to show signs of new growth in the Spring. And Yew has long been associated with rebirth, being the oldest tree as well as its branches staying ever-green when other trees have lost their foliage. They can be trusted as staunch guardians at the entrance to the Otherworld.

Caught between the Birch and Yew in this time of wildly fluctuating weather as the last traces of Winter confront the earliest buds of Spring, it is a good time to look back one more time at the past year and then focus on plans and dreams for the coming months. Between the Birch and Yew, stability and wisdom can be found in the tangle of roots and branches, a map to guide the wayfaring spirit.