Beltane and the Moon of Mourning
Saturday gratefuls: Kate riding with me after dropping folks off at the airport. Kate being here when I came home. Kate at her Bernini, sewing, sewing, sewing. The Bounce. Eigner. Joe and Seoah, on a jet plane. Kep and Rigel here when I got home.
Sparks of Joy: A Snowy Mt. Evans visible from the airport, Black Mountain, too. Love that surrounds me.
Beltane begins today. The transitional seasons of Imbolc and Ostara have ended, the growing season begins. In the old Celtic Calendar there were only two seasons. Beltane marked the beginning of the growing season and Samain, on October 31st, marked its end. The beginning of the fallow season.
Beltane celebrations could get wild. Bonfires, markets, lots of lovemaking out in the fields, sympathetic magic to increase the fertility of both the land and the village.
Beltane’s focus on fire, on fertility, on growing plants and young animals, seems apposite to my heart. My heart aches with loss. No Kate when I returned from the airport to see Joe and Seoah off for Hawai’i.
Many objects reach out to me. The kit I used when I cleaned her bandages. The lotion I spread on her arms and legs. This house. This loft.
Her remains are up here right now, with me. I’m not hiding from her. Hard, though. I want to switch things up, go back in time, not to when she was sick, but when we had fun together, times of joy. No. A fantasy. What I’m missing most.
It was difficult, coming back from the airport. The first time since Kate’s death that there were no guests. Just us mammals who live here: Kep, Rigel, me, all the critters on our land. The loss of Kate felt undiluted.
We were bound together on this land and on the land in Andover. We were two people of place, it meant a lot to us, means a lot to us. The gardens in Andover, the Woods, the Orchard, the Bees. Here the Lodgepole Pines, the Aspen, the Rocky, mostly Grass free yard. Black Mountain rising above us by another 1,200 feet or so.
We loved the seasons here. The Snows. Rain. Cold. Heat. Well, maybe not the heat so much. But, warmth. Yes.
I love the seasons now for both of us. The 70 degrees today and the 47 degrees on Monday.
Yet, Beltane tells the truth. This period of darkness, of shadows and tears, will lift. Will transform my life in ways I cannot imagine. It is the beginning of the growing season for me. Ready. Almost, anyhow.