Normally for Yule, I do a variation of Christmas. For example, one year I blessed glass Christmas balls, added a pinch of herbs (not easy with that little bitty hole) and a wish written on a scrap of paper. Then I hung them on the Christmas tree. This year I wanted to do something a little more practical, something I could actually measure in hard work and success.
I thought about what the season means traditionally- the birth of a special child. I have no children. What's my baby?
I decided my garden was my baby. The garden is dependant on me. If I don't water, it dies. If I am not watchful of weeds, it chokes. While the garden needs me, plants often surprise, growing faster than expected, or producing more than promised. Sometimes plants seed themselves so the following season you get a few things you didn't plant. Gardening is hard work, but it has many rewards.
Tonight I'm going out to the garden. I'll tell the soil it's time to sleep, but the sun is coming back. When it is warm, I'll wake the garden. I'll promise to keep watch while the garden sleeps like a good mother would. I'll promise to visit the garden every day. I'll promise to love and care for this patch of land, and I hope it returns my love.
Happy Yule.
2 comments:
What a wonderful post. I'm not good with plants. Children, yes. plants, no. I'm going to give a garden a try this spring though.
Happy Yule, V.
I love this, so practical, real, earthy and full of spirit! Blessed Yule to you!
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