Here in the Northern Hemisphere we are approaching the first harvest. The festival of Lughnasadh, or Lammas is raising its head and peering over the horizon. It's a bitter-sweet time for me on my yearly journey through the seasons. I've watched as the grey has turned to
I stood in circle on the flat hill just below the Long Man of Wilmington yesterday with about 60 other people to celebrate the first harvest of Lughnasadh. The Weald stretched out below and the land was a tapestry of green and gold, whilst a combine harvester
Yesterday I was asked by my pals at the Folkcast podcast to create an audio spoken word piece for one of their forthcoming seasonal shows. The piece they asked for was one of my recent posts - The Old Bearded Man - based on the myth of
The Old Bearded Man stands crooked in the fields. Born at the time of the Winter Solstice he has felt love, and has been loved. Now his beloved stands before him, the razor-edge of her sickle catching the light of the Summer Sun. They stand like this
The long days of Summer are beginning to draw in as we make our way towards Autumn. The first harvest is being collected as the golden fields give up their gift of abundance and John Barcleycorn is cut down at the knee. I always have mixed emotions
On the Spring Equinox of 2000 seven friends made their way up the hill to the flat mound at the base of the Long Man of Wilmington in Sussex to hold a ceremony. It was the first ceremony of the Anderida Gorsedd. The intent was there, to
Here in the UK Lughnasadh has just passed. What was a fresh green landscape at Beltane is now gold, with corn swaying under a somewhat illusive Sun, but ripened none-the-less. Now John Barleycorn, the Spirit of the Fields, is being cut down by the combine harvester. The
