[17-18|19-20|21-22|23|24-26|27|28|29|30|31|Unnumbered]
[1-16]
So often we return to a familiar blog or podcast or radio program or video episode for a few moments or minutes of (u)plift. I showed up, so you should too, you may find yourself saying, if an expected post or episode hasn’t arrived yet. And again we see the value to continuity, of rhythm, of pacing. (You might add one or more of those to your own list of feorhneru.)
One particular “plift” I’ve been noticing each day more and more is the stunning crop of berries on our rowan or mountain ash. I’ve written before about the rowan’s magical associations, but in each round of seasons the tree also simply delights the senses.
Hard to see from this image, how the berries are so numerous and heavy they’re bending the branches. In a time of planet-wide plague and political folly and crazy weather, a rich harvest of fruit in the northeast U.S.
I was about to post the rowan alone, as Day 17. Then this ancient yew, images courtesy of a friend in the U.K.:
This is the Crowhurst Yew, at least 1500 years old, and possibly more than 4000.
May we fruit and harvest in unlikely seasons, finding there kinship with ancestors who did the same. May we value what manages to survive, and bear witness to its beauty.
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A Druid Way 