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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in seeds

Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs
Seeded With Potential

     My seed catalogs have started to arrive in the mail. The glossy summer-bright photos are inspiring and awe-inducing (Moon and Stars Melons! Nebraska Wedding Tomatoes!), and also humbling. Each packet of seeds contains worlds of potential What in this universe holds more promise than a seed? Each tiny package is a life in stasis. Every seed on this planet contains knowledge: knowledge of self, knowledge of its needs and its future. A seed knows not to grow until it has been placed in the proper environment. Each seed knows when to allow itself to break apart and become something else, stretching toward the sun's light and the future.

    Every seed is aware of its purpose. It knows why it was placed in this world and what it needs to do to achieve that  purpose. We are not so fortunate. We lack the inner instruction manual that seeds possess. All too often we feel as though we are floundering, struggling to break out of our confines and grow into the Self we are meant to be.

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs
Magical tree seeds...


The offspring of plants and trees and each one has the potential for new beginnings…

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
The Clay Ladies in Winter

Now they stand knee-deep in the good, tilled earth of our gardens and fields, bestowing their gift of fruitfulness, as they have since the end of the last Great Ice.


Call them the Clay Ladies.


But come winter, what then?


To ask is to know.


Of course the Mothers do not stand in the fields all winter long, buried in snow.


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'For Frith and Year': The Story of Grandfather Sheaf

Listen well, now, for this is the story of Grandfather Sheaf.

Long ago our people lived on the shores of the Northern Sea, and we knew neither bread nor beer, neither brewing nor baking. We hunted and fished and gathered, as our people had always done, since the time of the Great Ice and before.

One day in spring, with the ice newly broken, a ship came slowly to shore: a long ship, with a high, antlered prow. The strange thing was that this ship was completely empty. But going down to meet it, we saw that indeed the ship was not empty, for in it lay a babe, a man-child asleep and naked, and cradled in a shield, and under his head a barley sheaf.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    It's my understanding that even though Hiawatha is an Iroquois folk hero Longfellow borrowed from an ethnographer who was writing
  • Paul B. Rucker
    Paul B. Rucker says #
    I will definitely keep this image in mind. I have a few others that have been incubating, or will be. Is this story Baltic or Nord
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    Germanic all the way: Norse and Old English. The story of Shield (OE Scyld) opens Beowulf, in fact.
  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham says #
    I think there is a story in Longfellow's Hiawatha were Hiawatha meets a young man in green feathers who wrestles with him. The yo
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    A religious connection to our food sources sure does pop up in tradition after tradition. Where Longfellow might have got his stor

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Spilling Seed

Well gentlemen, it's that time of year again: time to spill that seed on the ground.

Call it a religious obligation. Good old paganism.

Making love in the fields at the sowing to make the crops grow has probably been around for as long as we've been agricultural animals. It's sympathetic magic of the most basic kind, no explanation needed. I sure do hope that there are places in the world where they still do it. According to folklorist Vance Randolph, they did in the Ozarks during the 1950s.

I'm reminded of a scene from the jaw-dropping BBC series Rome. The newly-ennobled Senator Lucius Vorenus has acquired a new country property. To take official legal possession, he and his wife process out to a newly-plowed field along with a priest and their tenant farmers. After the priest makes offerings, Vorenus and Niobe go out into the field. She lays down, and he lays on top of her.

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Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs
Planting the seeds

I’ve planted seeds in ritual, at Imbolc before now. Of course if you wanted bulbs, those had to be in ground weeks, if not months ago. There are many things too delicate to put in the soil at this time of year – leafy salad plants and other exotica from warmer climes won’t tolerate the tail end of winter on the UK. There are still heavy frosts, and many plants can’t bear them. Some things won’t be planted until much later in the spring.

In life, as in agriculture when you plant may well depend a lot on what you are planting and when you hope to harvest it. Many projects take years to come to fruition. As an author I find I’m usually seeing the fruits of things I wrote months ago... this February, it’ll be seeds from years back that finally send up shoots. The third volume of Hopeless Maine (that’s the book cover adorning this post) comes out as a webcomic at while a book I wrote years ago – Fast food at the centre of the world, finally comes to life as an audio series at Often we plant things with no idea of whether they will grow, much less when.

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Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs


Seeds are magical.

For Ostara we planted five seeds.
The soil that held them was mixed with ashes.
Ashes that had once been paper,
that had once held our Imbolc intentions,
and that now nourished the soil.
Our seeds, so small in the dark soil.
Tiny seeds of possibility-- asleep.  
We set them in the sun with water and our blessings.

I planted seeds as a child.
I plant seeds as an adult,
experiencing the anticipation and wonder anew.
I ran to peer at the soil every day,
hoping for growth and new beginnings.
The adult kept the excitement away.
The adult made plans if the seeds did not grow.
The child stayed hopeful and rejoiced when seedlings emerged.


Seedlings are magical.

Our “babies”, our seedlings.
Tiny and delicate,
they persevere every day.
All five have grown.
All five lean towards the sun.
Some are stronger than others.
Some fall with the water.
They won’t all grow into tomato plants.
They won’t all gift us fruit.
Until then, they are tiny little possibilities.
They are tiny little hopes-- awake.

Life is magical.


 Hear me reading this poem at "I planted seeds" by Paola Suarez, a reading.



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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Paola Suarez
    Paola Suarez says #
    Thank you Courtney for your feedback! It was very powerful to feel the energy of Imbolc combining to give birth to Ostara life.
  • Courtney Weber
    Courtney Weber says #
    I love this--planting seeds mixed with the ashes at Imbolc! Beautiful!

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