The Garden At Dawn

32159605_238834490195299_9188063003340177408_nThe garden always calls to me as the sun rises – no matter what season of the year. There is a particular sort of magic to be found in the very air as the old ways and Mother magic crackles and fizzes before the rest of the world wakes.

There is a wildness, a connection, as I step barefoot onto the grass – left slightly longer, as I prefer it, since to me there is beauty to be seen in something as small as a blade of grass, equal to that of any majestic forest, wild moor or rocky seashore.

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Instantly as my bare feet touch the dew wet grass I feel it, I feel the connection, plugging into the universal grid of Life and Love. Everything is crystalline clear and touched with enchantment, everything growing as Mother Earth calls to her children to wake.

The tulips are past their best, now, but still have the mesmeric effect of a Monet painting, splashes of colour, their edges bleeding into one another. A delicate fragrance is lifted on the air, late daffodils, which surprised me with their scent.

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The sky is blue and very, very still. A slap of a fishtail reaches my ears from the pond which also startles the frogs into wakeful croaking, subtly different in tone to the toads. There is a busyness, a life to the pond, filled with tadpoles and baby fish, thriving in the rich water.

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The cats have woken up and followed me out, Charlie picking her way cautiously across the wet grass to jump and roll on the bench. The others, less fastidious, run to me and flop at my feet, Ting waving her legs in the air and “Wah”-ing. A jackdaw cackles overhead and the cats as one crouch, ears flattened to their heads as they follow its flight path across our garden.

The spell is broken, as faintly, traffic noise begins as the rest of the world stirs. I take a step back and re-enter my one-ness, temporarily separated from the Universal, but aware always. And Love. Always.

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Trees.

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I do love a good tree… I don’t actually have any of any great size in my garden, other than the apple tree which my partner lovingly grew from a pip about twenty years ago.

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Its apples are horrible, but the flowers are beautiful, and I love the goodness, the symbolism of my apple tree. It has had many a wish made on its branches, and next year, in the Spring, it will have Tibetan prayer flags draped around it.

Trees are inherently symbolic and packed full of meaning – just look at the Tree of Life. I feel the bareness of tree branches in Winter, reaching out their empty arms and pleading with Mother Nature to return soon with their leafy covering…

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There is something very primitive about walking through a wood in Summer, harking back to our lives centuries ago, when the first upright walkers left the safety of the trees for the open plains.

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Every step taken through these enclaves of trees is a passage to the past when Mankind was far more intimately connected to the cycles of Mother Earth. Our lives have been entwined with trees like ivy round a trunk… they provided shelter, fuel, symbols, myths and legends.

Every time I see this tree I fully expect the Green Man to be just around the other side…

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There is a stark beauty too, woods in winter, naked, bare and beseeching reaching up to the sky, the very heavens, Nature’s own cathedrals; while down below their roots grip Mother Earth secretly, drawing hidden life to the surface.

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Another bridge, another link in Life, chapter in this Book … And when all is bleak and bare, there is comfort to be found in the promise of returning Life.

Butterfly Brain…

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Oh God… why can’t I breathe – what’s that awful smell of catfood doing in the bed – Tooty! GET OFF! Don’t dribble on me…

Good morning girlies! Are you ready for breakfast – I know a song about that – No? Ok, Mummy won’t sing then…who left me the dead mouse? Lily, you shouldn’t have – no really I mean that!

Right…let’s get organised. Kettle on- teabag in, tea done. . . .Aaah. Best drink of the day… now, if I could just have a cigarette to go with it – NO! NO! Don’t think like that, Samantha, it’s been over a year now – disgusting. Filthy habit…

Let’s get dressed. Please get out of the wardrobe Ting… Oh my God – who’s chewed the corner of the door?? I mean, really? Like you don’t have enough toys?

Teeth cleaned, someone’s been in the sink, muddy pawprints everywhere – fab. If only mud were the new black… bet there’s a blog post in there somewhere… must remember to get more toothpaste…hope that offer’s still on… wonder if Alex needs anything getting, although it’s not as if they don’t have shops there…

I’ll have to get catfood from there next week as Nottingham seems to have stopped selling their brand… Going out girlies! Be good, guard the house, Charlie, don’t be a bully.

Dammit!! Nearly got run over – hate this crossing… crossing between two worlds… heheh… bet there’s a story in there…ooh! Pretty kitty, hi! Bus, up or down… oh actually I’ll go upstairs, the coughing man’s there – crap! Nearly fell down the stairs…

Oh dear, how can I tell Mum I don’t really like pasta… I hope Alex likes pasta considering I bought him a bag the size of a small child to keep him going…wonder what he might like for Christmas…

I know what the cats want anyway… I’m not getting them any more of those catnip mice, it sounds like they’re hurling rocks around in the front room when they play with them…

We all have some sort of internal monologue that runs in the background like an open app while we go about our daily business. This is a sample of mine… I never really realised what junk I think to be honest. My mother calls it Butterfly Brain, Alex calls it Being Blonde… upon reflection, I think maybe my mind is like a rubbish dump – and I’m still looking for that elusive hidden gem..!

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Taking Electricity For Granted…

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My plasma ball – these are clear glass balls filled with noble gases and a high voltage electrode in the middle. When electricity is supplied, these beams of coloured light are created

We had a series of little power cuts a few months ago. Now, this didn’t bother me too much, as it was summer, and if you have pen and paper you can write pretty much anywhere. However, the goings on in the street were quite amusing to listen to …

One by one, house alarms started to go off. My partner’s mother was screaming because she didn’t know how to turn her alarm off, next door’s kid was yelling because his computer had gone off… in a matter of minutes, the whole infrastructure of the street had been compromised.

It’s so dark!” “Burglars’ll be round..” (cue screaming from my partner’s mother..) “I didn’t save my level!” My most pressing concern was the freezer, although there wasn’t actually that much in it.

But it just gave me pause for thought, about just how dependant we really are on our ability to create light and power at the flick of a switch. Granted, electricity has been around for, well, for ever, and early humans even managed to utilise it in the Baghdad Batteries – although these are now more commonly thought of as a rudimentary method of electroplating – but I bet William Gilbert never thought his discovery would become a mainstay of modern society.

I noticed, for example, just how really dark it is in the countryside. There is still some relatively unspoilt countryside between here and Loughborough, when I go to visit Alex, that is quite pleasant to pass through. It was dark, though, last time I came home on the bus … A primitive kind of blackness, only illuminated for a few feet in front of us as we travelled down these narrow country lanes in our juggernaut of a bus, speeding centuries into the future…

Any big city has a permanent glow of electricity around it, so true darkness is very rarely seen, due to this light pollution. I remember the power cuts of the seventies… mainly because my father couldn’t find the candles in the cupboard under the stairs and banged his head, swearing loudly and expressively…

it’s quite scary in a way, to think just how helpless we would be if our power supply was threatened… I must go and Google how to make a generator –

B*&%$r!! The electricity’s gone off…

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Thank Yous and Thoughts

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We don’t say thank you enough, nowadays, I feel… for someone opening the door for you, for even just receiving your change at the shop… I need to say some thank yous… Marje of Kyrosmagica has nominated me for the Hidden Gem Blog of the Blogger’s Bash, a very kind thought. Please do go and have a look at her blog – you might find a familiar face there… Lily, doing some promotion work for Marje’s book, out this summer – [Here is the link if you would like to see what the Blogger’s Bash is about, as organised by Sacha Black…]

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Also… we need to give thanks in the sense of feeling gratitude for the gifts we have and the world we live in – it’s a beautiful place after all.

As always, I would like to thank anyone who has been kind enough to stop by for a read, a like or a subscribe. Your interest is much appreciated and comments always welcome. xx

THANKS

Charlie says: “Be nice!”

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💕 Cheerio! 💕

Moonstone and Meanderings…

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Moonstone is another crystal to which I am particularly drawn. Usually connected to the potential for new beginnings and a fresh start it is obviously linked to the Moon and her cycles. I value Moonstone for its physical reminder that change is a way of Life, part of a pattern that we need to accept.

Moonstone mirrors the calm serenity of the Moon herself and is emotionally calming whilst promoting intuition.

I have several pieces of Moonstone and it is also one of the birthstones of myself and my son, and I found it especially resonant in November, perhaps answering the call of the Super Moon…

My various coloured pieces bring to mind the relationship between Moon and Earth, Day and Night, this cream piece reminding me of Mother Earth herself, the whole of her creation bound within a golden network of ley lines and old ways, that those who can, still use, blurring the lines between the 21st century and our past when we lived so much closer to the Earth and were more ready to listen to what she had to share.

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I’m not fond of winter – I was born in July – but it is at this time of year I sometimes feel closest to Mother Earth as she is laid bare, frosty bones exposed and stripped of summer finery.

These wintry November mornings we have recently been blessed with are clear, cold and sharp, a powdering of frost delicately decorating exposed earth and furrows, Mother Earth in her naked glory, Crone of the year’s age and experience, Spring Maiden and Summer Mother temporarily laid to rest for another year …

There is a sense of wildness at this time of year, an almost mediaeval connection, bringing to mind the great ancient forests where wolves and wildcats freely roamed and wild boar searched for roots.

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Coils of early morning mist drift across the garden, as I watch the Sun rise, gently moving aside the night to make way for dawn in shades of frozen peach and delicate blue, while ice crystals streak the sky and touch the garden with silvered magic.

I half-expect to hear the crackle of a log fire, in a time slip moment of looking back when we didn’t have the luxuries of central heating or hot water at the flick of a switch, When nothing was certain but we accepted the changing of the seasons and adapted to what there was, the slow-burning energy of carbohydrates instead of the quick sugars of Spring.

My black Moonstone brings to mind the cold clarity of the Winter Solstice skies, the dark velvet mantle of night drawn across Mother Earth’s aching bones as she rests and gathers energy for the year ahead.

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Moonstone reminds us there is no fear to be had in the seeming dark night of the soul; it’s just another stage, a transition in this life, completing the journey of those who went before…

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Tooty’s Tale

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Tooty had a… confused start in life. She is Ting’s sister, no doubt about that as they share a bond of sibling affection that I don’t see between Charlie and Lily, even though they’ve known each other since they were a couple of months old. How we found them is the subject of an earlier post: ‘The Finding of Kittens’, but although Ting’s place in our family was assured – my partner knew of my secret, long-held desire for a Siamese – Tooty, as a black cat was held as being surplus to requirements in my partner’s opinion. Besides which, we already had a black cat, little Lily, the dainty, pretty murderess who had captured my partner’s heart with her killing charm.

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However, I loved Tooty the moment I saw her for her bravery. She was the first one to leave the safety of the hedge for an unknown future with us. I had absolutely no intention of separating the sisters. I just never mentioned it. So she stayed, and I say a ‘confused’ start to life with us since we were convinced she was a tom, and actually called her Derek for her first few months of living with us.

She grew and developed into a black cat with a charm and beauty of her own. She doesn’t have the fragile prettiness of Lily, rather the sleek, powerful lines of the traditional parlour panther. She is the only cat I have with eyes the colour of Citrine or Amber, depending on the light… a proper witch’s cat but she has the temperament of a particularly cuddly marshmallow.

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Like all my girls, I took her to the vet to be spayed, however, she did develop a chest infection after, and although it cleared up after antibiotics, it has left her with the tendency to snore. And I mean snore. A real roof rattling reverberation… Her meow is quite funny too. She’s not the most talkative of cats, unlike Charlie or Ting, but when she does meow, it’s more a croaky “Wah!” sound. A bit like a goose. Tooty “Brrrp’s” a lot though.

Brp! Hi, I’m here,”

BRPP! I didn’t see you there, you scared me!”

Brp-wah… sure it’s feeding time…”

Tooty has the most wonderful purr though, a deep, melodic soothing rumble. She likes to cuddle in the bed next to you and will lie, legs in the air, so you can stroke her chest, eyes blissfully closed, purring away like a little motor.

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She and her sister, Ting, still play together as well – sometimes a little too roughly and the fur tufts fly. It’s soon forgotten though, as they greet each other affectionately with a tender lick between the ears.

So. Despite having a duplicate of colour in cats, Tooty brings her own special qualities to my feline fur family. She is loving and affectionate, a confident panther who stalks the rooms of my house, “brrrping” and throwing catnip mice around…

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