Author: Elizabeth

A couple of weeks ago, while puttering around in the garden, cutting back plants, I was hit by the wave of grief that had been gently flowing towards me, ebbing, then flowing again with a little more strength – determined to not simply wet my feet.

After my father passed away in early April, I received much comfort from the burgeoning power of Spring. It’s life force was palpable; I was thankful for the sustenance that it offered, and allowed myself to be lifted by it’s strength.

But the seasonal tides that carried me through the spring and summer months naturally slowed, leaving me back on the shore, watching their retreat. Over the following weeks, as I observed changes in the trees, and decay in the flower beds, I felt the loss of my Dad more keenly. My thoughts turned to how much I’d miss seeing and touching him, and hearing him laugh at the jokes that I knew he’d love.

Yet the crisp morning air and cooling rains are welcome; I greet them with open arms and still-bare feet. And as the returning waves wash over me, so fresh and invigorating, I am reminded that the coming darkness holds the promise of new life, growth, and abundance.

The photo I chose for this post was taken the day my Dad passed away. I had been out of town for a week, staying with my sister, and hadn’t planned on travelling home until the next day. But a strong need to return overcame me, and it wasn’t until I was on board the ferry that I realized why: Before me was the beautiful sun, setting over the island where my Dad had been born, many years before, on one fine August day.

I’ve embraced the Hermit throughout the month of August (An Lùnastal in Scottish Gaelic), and although I gathered with friends at the end of July, I celebrated the festival of Lùnastal on my own, beneath the first shining crescent of the new moon. I offered praise and thanks to the new moon and the harvest, while very mindful of their connection.

It was the first time that I’d celebrated the harvest in this way. I was drawn to do so in honour of my late father, who felt a great connection with the Highlands of Scotland, and was known to observe and comment on the look of the clouds, the health of a tree, or the phase of the moon. I’ve no doubt that he carried on habits long-held by our ancestors who, like my Dad, lived close to nature.

While growing up here in multicultural Canada, I was thrilled by the many rich samplings of music, dance, costume, and food that were on offer from friends and neighbours, as well as the greater community. It wasn’t until I was well into adulthood that I recognized how full of culture, Highland culture, my own family was. Grandma, whose grandparents were farmers from Scotland (and Ireland) always insisted on a large gathering around August 1st, my Mom and her sisters were passionate about good hospitality, and the Hallowe’en (Samhainn or Samhuinn in Scottish Gaelic) bonfire was always at our house. I could go on, but I’ll save it for another day.

And so, as the moon grows to fullness over the coming hours, the gratitude I feel for all that I may harvest also grows. I wish you all a happy and bountiful season.

I found some barley growing in the back garden. After harvesting, I propped the stalks against a fence to be photographed with another surprise – a young volunteer Red Oak.

After recently opening up about my mental health, it was encouraging to watch Philip Carr-Gomm’s weekly webcast Tea with a Druid. Episode 153 is entitled “Honouring Fragility, Hallowing Limitation” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLSbYw4SqRY. Philip spoke about the heroic quest we may find ourselves on while travelling a spiritual path. I took special note of the following words:

The blackberry harvest has been abundant this year.  It began a few weeks ago with the thornless variety, originally present in only the neighbour’s backyard, but well established in mine now, after growing under and up the fence.  Two to three weeks later it came time to harvest berries, and a few small wounds, from the very thorny wild bramble I leave to grow in one corner of the yard.  The bramble’s survival instinct is incredible – if I didn’t cut it back it would devour the whole garden, and then some.

Blackberries are a favourite fruit, a taste nurtured during sun-filled days picking berries with a pie-and-cobbler-baking auntie.  At this time of year, we would hike up to a power line, where the forest was cleared.  It was there that we found good access to the blackberry bushes that grew along the edge of the clearing.  We frequently spotted black bears, who were out and about for their share of the berries.  Foraging alongside wild animals added to the adventure, and certainly offered a life lesson in how inter-connected our lives were.

When I first flipped through The Herbcrafter’s Tarot, written by Joanna Powell Colbert, illustrated Latisha Guthrie (U.S. Games Systems Inc., 2019), it amused me to see Blackberry as card number fifteen, the Devil.  Perfect!  While harvesting berries this year, I was reminded of this Devil card, which led me to having a look at other decks.  The word ‘integration’ appeared a number of times.  I clearly saw that the Goddess of inspiration was encouraging me to take the idea of integration to a deeper level.

A few key words for the Devil card are struggle, trapped, materialism, decisions, potential, awakening.  I’ll be more aware of the opposing forces as I work to find wholeness, and for me that means being able to, in turn, channel the creative forces that flow through me, outwards again.

For a couple of weeks after I received the beautiful self-published ‘Tree Whisper Oracle’ by Maggie Black https://treewhisperoracle.wixsite.com/website, I frequently pulled ‘Integration’, and the message resonated.  As I move forward with Brigid’s Creel, what I thought would be a blog about Tarot and Oracle cards, is going to be about the many allies that accompany us on the road to healing.  These allies help to create balance.  My sun sign is Libra.  Ultimately, I suppose, the lack of balance feels wrong; unfulfilling.

The word ‘unfulfilling’ may sound a little selfish, so let’s turn it around; to fulfill conveys a straight-forward, positive idea.  Here are two definitions from the OED:  Achieve or realize; gain happiness or satisfaction by fully achieving one’s potential.  I would wish fulfillment for everyone.  I am truly grateful for the friends I’ve made, and look forward to strengthening the threads that connect us.

Many of you will already be aware of my interest in gardening and herbs.  I also enjoy photography, history, literature, and folklore.  Looking to the cultural and spiritual traditions of my ancestors has always been very inspirational.

The key theme of the posts will be the life-affirming journey to healing and creative expression.  The content I share will be offered with the hope that I am providing a space where others might find kinship, and allow themselves to comfortably sit for awhile.

One of my favourite photos:  A full moon gently held by the leaves of a beloved Big Leaf Maple.