Beltane Waxing Flower Moon
When I walk outside at night, on the back deck, the flower moon shines, almost full. A May rain has dampened all the earth in the back, where the vegetables seeds wait for the right combination of moisture and heat to spring to life, begin their season. The earth on this May night gives off a scent, a strong scent, the odor of fertility.
It was said that the odor of sanctity, a scent associated with saints, was the smell of roses. I’ll go with the smell of roses and leave the sanctity to the theologians, but this May night has a sacred presence, the presence of life and the inanimate in an intimate union.
Moon light on a growing garden, an orchard beginning to leaf out, tulips and daffodils folded up for the night, are the early signs of a northern summer.
A northern summer has a marked difference from the southern US or Southeast Asia, which my brother refers as the land of endless summer. We come to summer after a long, cold, sometimes difficult winter. The greens, the yellows, the reds and blues of summer gladden the heart, create a sense of openness and possibility, so welcome. In lands where the seasons are only dry or wet, but always hot there is no caesura, a fallow time, for contrast.
Right now, to step outside in the dark, with a fine bright moon, is to walk into the Otherworld straight out of the Land of Winter. Magical.