| The Heartland Spirit - Festival Issue 2011 |
Share
My mother may not have embraced the word ‘Witch’ comfortably but she was very in touch with nature and taught me the same. She was an avid gardener. Her garden was always wonderfully diverse – full of cabbage, spinach, butter lettuce, radishes, squash, tomatoes, peppers and carrots. She also had a collection of lilies, roses and other plants that bloomed again and again. But she did something each year without fail that always felt Pagan to me.
Near sunrise on the Vernal Equinox, no matter if there was snow on the ground or not, she would walk around the outside of her house barefoot. She encouraged me to do the same and I can still remember having such cold feet. She would walk slowly through her yard, as she had multiple garden beds. Each one of these beds got her personal attention.
At each garden bed she would call to the plants growing there. Some plant beds she would sing to the plants. She spoke with those plants as if they were old friends she hadn’t seen in quite some time. I can still hear her.
“Hello Lilly of the Valley. Are you awake in there? It’s time to show your delicate white bells again.
Good morning lilac, I can’t wait to see the beautiful purple blossoms.
So nice to see you honeysuckle! Your scent will soon waft through my kitchen window and I look forward to that.”
I was a child and it was a little embarrassing to think the neighbors could possibly see my mother talking to her garden beds and me trailing behind and to the side of her. But Mom always promised a treat if I could get through the whole yard. Most times she would bring the family pets out as well to walk with us. She said their presence helped wake the sleeping plants because of their innocence, just like me.
Years later, and after much learning, I know what it was she was really doing, for with wisdom comes age. She was literally walking the yard to wake the plants. She welcomed and encouraged the plants to brave the cold world to their individual beauty of new life spring promised were around the corner. She was barefoot to better feel the earth and since then I have grounded and centered as I walk my yard slowly. I imagine my feet digging into the earth, gently shaking it awake from its winter slumber.
It wasn’t important what she said. She never said the same thing to the same plant bed year after year. All that was important was that it was said with love and respect in her voice and hope in her heart she told me. She walked counterclockwise or widdershins to abolish the winter from her gardens, then daosil or clockwise to wake the garden. No matter her explanation, it always felt a little strange to me, until I grew older and it became tradition.
My mother’s garden was always fruitful and beautiful, and I think the main reason for this was her walking the yard each Vernal Equinox. This gentle and loving nudge she gave to her plants may have made the difference. Although my mother has long since left this realm to garden with God and Goddess in Summerland, I hope these tips will help those gardeners out there produce more wonderful gardens this season. My mother would be pleased to know others are walking their yards, as I still do mine.
Happy gardening!
Walking the Yard
by Danelle CallahanMy mother may not have embraced the word ‘Witch’ comfortably but she was very in touch with nature and taught me the same. She was an avid gardener. Her garden was always wonderfully diverse – full of cabbage, spinach, butter lettuce, radishes, squash, tomatoes, peppers and carrots. She also had a collection of lilies, roses and other plants that bloomed again and again. But she did something each year without fail that always felt Pagan to me. Near sunrise on the Vernal Equinox, no matter if there was snow on the ground or not, she would walk around the outside of her house barefoot. She encouraged me to do the same and I can still remember having such cold feet. She would walk slowly through her yard, as she had multiple garden beds. Each one of these beds got her personal attention.
At each garden bed she would call to the plants growing there. Some plant beds she would sing to the plants. She spoke with those plants as if they were old friends she hadn’t seen in quite some time. I can still hear her.
“Hello Lilly of the Valley. Are you awake in there? It’s time to show your delicate white bells again.
Good morning lilac, I can’t wait to see the beautiful purple blossoms.
So nice to see you honeysuckle! Your scent will soon waft through my kitchen window and I look forward to that.”
I was a child and it was a little embarrassing to think the neighbors could possibly see my mother talking to her garden beds and me trailing behind and to the side of her. But Mom always promised a treat if I could get through the whole yard. Most times she would bring the family pets out as well to walk with us. She said their presence helped wake the sleeping plants because of their innocence, just like me.
Years later, and after much learning, I know what it was she was really doing, for with wisdom comes age. She was literally walking the yard to wake the plants. She welcomed and encouraged the plants to brave the cold world to their individual beauty of new life spring promised were around the corner. She was barefoot to better feel the earth and since then I have grounded and centered as I walk my yard slowly. I imagine my feet digging into the earth, gently shaking it awake from its winter slumber.
It wasn’t important what she said. She never said the same thing to the same plant bed year after year. All that was important was that it was said with love and respect in her voice and hope in her heart she told me. She walked counterclockwise or widdershins to abolish the winter from her gardens, then daosil or clockwise to wake the garden. No matter her explanation, it always felt a little strange to me, until I grew older and it became tradition.
My mother’s garden was always fruitful and beautiful, and I think the main reason for this was her walking the yard each Vernal Equinox. This gentle and loving nudge she gave to her plants may have made the difference. Although my mother has long since left this realm to garden with God and Goddess in Summerland, I hope these tips will help those gardeners out there produce more wonderful gardens this season. My mother would be pleased to know others are walking their yards, as I still do mine.
Happy gardening!