All Upon A Midsummer Weekend

Midsummer dawned sunny and hot on Saturday, and I had a plan.  Which of course meant, nothing would go as planned.

I took my walk beside the river, the plants growing tall and reaching for my knees after the rains of the previous week.  The Saskatoon berries were ripening and I picked as many as I could reach. It was a small harvest, but I'll return tomorrow for some more in the hopes of getting a few jars of jam out of the effort.

Upon returning home with the tasty jewels, I noticed that my dear rue had started keeling over from the winds. It was time for a trim.  A huge armfull of green-vanilla scented bliss later, I strung lengths of twine in the basement and hung the charming herb to dry

Later that morning I drove to the next town to the lakeshore in order to take part in a solstice gathering, but was turned away. There was a classic car show happening, and no parking to be found for blocks.

I carried on to the west, up the hillside and stopped at the cemetery that houses the ashes of my grandparents.  I washed their headstones, and left them the lavender that I had woven into my hair that morning.

I continued on my journey up the mountain, and found that the yarrow was ripe for picking.

A basket full of the healing herb, and dusty and dry myself, I still wasn't ready to go home, so I drove south toward the desert.  I stopped at a farm stand to pick up local honey and just-ripe cherries, and paid some silver to a favourite crossroads before moving into the land of sage brush.

I stopped to pick a handful of the fragrant plant and carried on to another cemetery to pay my respects to the goddess, in one of her many forms.

By the time I found myself back at home hanging bundles of yarrow and sage, red cheeks and arms from too much sun, I was exhausted. I had plans to attend an evening circle at the lake as well.  But the hours in the sunshine and fresh air had left me weary, and the glass of crabapple wine I was sipping was a terribly good additional excuse not to drive again.  

I spoke my gratitudes, petitions and charms that night, and toasted the longest day, and then slipped effortlessly into dreams of plants and mountains and ancestors.

I hope your Midsummer/Solstice was absolutely delightful, and everything you hoped for - even if it didn't go exactly as planned!

Bearing Fruit?

Pomona, a wood nymph-cum-goddess had a lackluster interest in love.  She preferred to spend her time pruning and watering her fruit trees (her name comes from the Latin word pomum which means fruit.)  Although she eventually fell for Vertumnus (a god of changing seasons and agriculture,) she turned away many suitors in favour of her passion for her orchards.

I'm hearing her name whispered on the breeze lately.  It could be the Autumn scent of apples in the air, or perhaps the harvest coming in and the Equinox approaching.  But I think it's less the fruit, and more the fruitfulness that is on my mind.

Autumn is the perfect time to turn inward and to reflect on our productiveness thus far.  Did we accomplish what we set out to do this Spring and Summer, or were we courted by distractions? 

One of the exercises I've come across recently is to list all that you have accomplished this year, and then list all that you wanted to accomplish and have not.  Perhaps there are things on the "accomplished" list that you hadn't planned but happily achieved.  And maybe there are things on the "have not" list, that weren't as important as you first thought.

For me the trick is balance.  In order for this project to be successful, I must resist beating myself up for those things I didn't accomplish, yet still be firm enough with myself to observe where change and pruning is needed. 

"I am doomed to an eternity of compulsive work. No set goal achieved satisfies. Success only breeds a new goal. The golden apple devoured has seeds. It is endless." ~Bette Davis

What I don't desire, is looking at my fruitfulness as just another stepping stone up to a pedestle that cannot support me.  This quote from Bette Davis seems applicable in today's view of what is "success."  Rather than think I have to be a certain way or shape or person, I'd rather look at my individual accomplishments as successes, even if they keep company among occasional missteps or unfinished business.

I admire Pomona's commitment to her fruit.  She let very little get in the way of shaping her harvest.