a lammas weaving

I went out to say good Lammas morning to the world, and to hear its song on this sacred day. (Actually it is astronomically Lammas in three days' time, but that doesn't really matter, it's hard enough holding to tradition when you're in the upside down part of the world without correcting for astronomy as well; and besides which, every day is sacred really.)

I stood on my back step and just listened. And in my heart grew the consciousness that I was one woman with a brown skirt and a slight headache in a world full of people, each of them rich with experiences and emotions. (There is an actual word for this awareness, and I spent years searching for it online, only to find it and forget it again.) * This did not make me feel small, insignificant - entirely the opposite. I knew I was a member of the great family of life. People and bushes and birds and trees, all of us together, related.

And then a butterfly flew over me, luscious frills and pale gold, and I left the step, the shadow of the house, and I went into the yard, heart lifting, throat calling, to find that beautiful winged thing. I've never before seen a butterfly like it. And did not again. There was a monarch nearby - that must have been it, and my senses confused. A little later, a white butterfly floated in a burst of sunlight outside my window - less extraordinary, but equally precious, and so I was reminded that there is magic in this world, some of it outlandishly lovely, some of it plain. And all of it is for the knowing and oh, the loving.

The photograph is of a small harvest I made from my garden today, since it is Lammas - although I would have done it anyway. Rosemary, flowers, a new tomato. The bread of life, which we celebrate today, is not necessarily bread ... after all, the god who gives his light so we can grow, is older than wheat and fields. Besides, there is more to nourishment than food. There is rosemary grown by the door for protection. A tomato picked with care, and hope, at a particular moment. Flowers from a plant which might not make it through summer. All the things that feed love into our souls.

I wish you the knowing of magic and love and connectedness on this day, whether it be Lammas where you are or Imbolc or just another day.

* sonder


  1. so lovely
    thank you
    you have made me dream of butterflies

  2. Just so....grateful to you for describing a familiar feeling, Sarah dear.