Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
The Goddess Who Wasn't There
Ever since planting day, she's been there, back in the corner of the garden, up to her knees in the good, rich soil.
For the last seven months, every time I looked out, she's stood there looking back.
And now she's gone.
It was an amazing growing season, the longest on record.
But now it's over.
I cleared out the garden this weekend, and the little clay goddess came indoors to sleep on her bed of sweet sage in the storage cupboards, among the herbs, the dried beans, and the many-colored jars of summer goodness.
It's the Fallows, the Time Between: the no-more of Samhain and the not-yet of Yule. Fred Adams of Feraferia called this time Repose:
As seeds and litter settle to Earth,
dreams and All Souls rise from the dense rooted underground
to soften and fuse them.
We know that she'll be back some day, smiling her sweet, soft smile.
But for now, I still feel that little pang of emptiness every time I look back and she's not there.
In this Season of Dreams, my Lady, may your winter dreams be sweet.
Sculpture: Joanna Hajduk, Glinka Design
Photo: Magda Kielar
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I saw a wooden carving of Frey in a book on Vikings, it left me with the notion that most of the early god figures were probably made of wood. I hope you find a god figure that is just right for watching over your garden while your little goddess figure sleeps.