Soon the rose will materialize, her luscious fragrance drifting in with the honeyed sun that warms the Earth. Under the crystal blue sky a symphony of perennial hues and scents will complement the rose in pure natural harmony. Now is the beginning of the best of all possible times for those of us who have the privilege of and are dedicated to tending the Goddess’ gardens.
A true gardener laments the coming of Autumn - the first song of Winter - just a little. The fading of the last mum is like the loss of a rare and beautiful love. Even though the rose and her companions will return in streams of color and joy from spring to summer, they are deeply missed at the evening of the year, through its midnight and into the dawn of the next.
When I was a child my father, the finest gardener I have ever known, told me that Heaven's seasons are the opposite of ours. When the pale gown of Winter covers the Earth the souls of all the flowers bloom above to delight the saints. My father and I did not share a faith – born as I was to the Craft – but we shared an understanding of the inestimable spiritual significance of the flower.
Close your eyes now, and your spirit will sense and smell them coming.
No comments:
Post a Comment