Hecate

We're here in this bursting period between Imbolc and Ostara, one of the most dynamic sections of the Wheel of the Year. The "Sun ...

There are the poems that you love, and then there are the poems that you write into your will. Here's one that I made the nice young la...

I've posted this before, but I love this poem, especially the call that it makes for us to find what we need in our landbase. Blessed I...

Sometimes Sometimes things don't go, after all, from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel faces down frost; green thrives; the crops do...

This week's page of my Ecological Calendar at work tells me that, at this time of year, some bees from every hive begin to make forays ...

I mentioned recently to some friends that, as a Pagan, I'm preparing to celebrate Imbolc. One of my friends replied, "Really? You...

Here's some more David Whyte; the film is a bit jerky, but close your eyes and listen to him read his own poetry. On Imbolc, may you see...

Everything is Waiting for You Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime w...

It's been brutally cold here in the magic-crammed MidAtlantic. The beautiful Potomac River is almost entirely iced over and the Canada ...

I can almost feel Imbolc stirring itself from deep inside my Mother and beginning to rise through the root-chilling red clay and rock-hard f...

It snowed several inches last night, but today's sun, and temperatures in the low 40s, melted much of it. An almost perfect day for ast...

If you grace my blog even occasionally, you know that I love poetry. I love the way that words -- "mere" words -- can transport u...

Brigid is such a complex Goddess -- patroness of both poetry and smithcraft, of both fire and wells, of both healing of the body and the cre...

What She Said . For me, Imbolc is the Pagan Season of Hope – as we anticipate the Spring Woman who rises in the green veins of trees and tul...

"Springtime's comin'," he said. "Cannot tha' smell it?" Mary sniffed and thought she could. "I smell s...

Here's hoping that, for the fifth straight year, Anne Hill will be sponsoring the on-line Imbolc poetry slam in honor of the Goddess Br...

If you stop and listen, and dig your toes a bit into the still-quite-cold ground, you can feel Mother Earh beginning to get juicy, getting r...

If Samhein is a good time of year to set goals and then let them germinate through Yule, Imbolc, for me, is the shot-in-the-arm time, the pe...

I have two "Imbolc 2009" buttons for the first two people who email me at hecated emetersd atter ath otmaild ot com with their sna...

Song of Senlin by Conrad Aiken IT is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I ar...