The Beltane week has been an interesting one, typical of this time where I am too busy doing to be blogging. The Sunday before the weather was right to light the bonfire. A winter of decay purified in the fires of the great God. It was so good to clear out that part of the garden. It has not only physically uncluttered the garden but has also cleared me emotionally to feel optimistic that it will be a good year for growing. The garden is growing greatly, the weeds forcing themselves into all spaces available.
Then we travelled to see Die Zauberflotte at the Royal Opera House. With it's air of mysticism, references to freemasonry, which was also a root of meso-druidry, the balance between superstition and rationalism all gathered to be relevant at Beltane to this Gewessi man.
The week of ceremony culminated with a longish loop to Thunderbarrow. The first proper warm ride on dry trails for at least a year. I could feel Thunor's wife, Sif the golden haired, during the ride in the warmth and pollen on the air. Here's a view from the Thunderbarrow which is not a tomb to Thunor but the remnants of a Romano-British homestead. The landscape as ever is magical viewed from the barrow; to the east the hill fort at Devils Dyke is visible, southwards the views drop down across the sea with it's yachts and racing dinghies are white dots on an azure cloth, to the west the grove on the top of Chanctonbury can be seen, northwards the Monarchs Way winds upwards to the South Downs Way and the Fulking Escarpment. The history of the interaction between people and the land is tangible below my feet, around and above me.
It was a warm contrast to Eostre, my bare arms and legs soaking up Vit D, as I rolled along to the sound of Chiff-Chaffs with their eponymous song, smiling people walking and enjoying the outside. The view from the mound was clear with a bright promise and the Nywvre flowed bringing me home humming like a natural pylon.