Fall\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Waning Harvest Moon<\/p>\n
Each turn of the Celtic seasonal calendar I find ideas, personal reflections, astronomical or traditional lore to pass along.<\/p>\n
This time I’ll pass along one from Waverly Fitzgerald who maintains a website, living in season<\/a>.<\/p>\n She suggests a seasonal pilgrimage, a visit each turn of the year to a place that, for you, embodies the energies and essence of the new season.\u00a0 This recommendation struck me because I have a place myself, next to the Carlos Avery Wildlife Refuge, the Bootlake Scientific and Natural Area.<\/p>\n To get to my sacred area I walk back through a field, it formerly held a house, now gone, traverse a crescent of young oak and birch to emerge in a circular meadow filled with furze.\u00a0 Across the furze and to the northwest is a path back into the woods, not long, that takes me to a parcel of land between a pond on the south and the marshy edge of Bootlake on the north.<\/p>\n On this land between the waters stands an old growth white pine, a white pine with a crooked top, probably the main trunk broke off in a storm or lightning strike and a secondary branch took over, but at an angle from the main.\u00a0 My guess is that this deformity allowed the old giant to survive the woodsman’s axe.<\/p>\n In a ring around this older tree are its offspring, a small grove of younger white pines who now stand sentinel around their older parent, a conversation now lasting at least a hundred years of more.<\/p>\n A portion of Tully’s ashes came with me one day.\u00a0 I scattered them around the base of the tree, then sat down with my back to its trunk, snugged in between two great roots while I gave thanks for this Irish Wolfhound who had taken a special place in my heart.<\/p>\n At other times, often on New Year’s Day, I have visited this sacred grove, the air often below zero, snow crunching, black crows watching me from high atop leafless oak.<\/p>\n This small place, away from the city and the suburbs, a place intact, has been a refuge for me for over twenty years.\u00a0 I visit it still, though less in the last few years.\u00a0 It’s time to return.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Fall\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Waning Harvest Moon Each turn of the Celtic seasonal calendar I find ideas, personal reflections, astronomical or traditional lore to pass along. This time I’ll pass along one from Waverly Fitzgerald who maintains a website, living in season. She suggests a seasonal pilgrimage, a visit each turn of the year to a place that, … Continue reading Seasonal Pilgrimage<\/span>