The Goddess' Gift to Colorado by Barbara Carvallo

The elegant and stunning Columbine with the blue of the peaks, the pristine white of the snow and the yellow gold of the Planes is Colorado’s State Flower.  A magnificently hearty little perennial she scatters herself across the Great Rocky Mountains in the Goddess' sweet spring.  She can be grown in a garden with good drainage and a little shade from the high heat.  I have had mine last until mid-summer.  There are many colors, but the blue belongs to my home, Colorado.

 

 

 

 

Keep Dancin!! - by our beloved brother and always welcome contributor, Doug Luzar

Everything you do has an impact on someone, somewhere in the World, so in effect, everything you do affects the World.. Whatever you do today, do with Love in Your Heart. Whether it is Cooking a Meal, caring for a Baby, or an Elder, serving Food in a restaurant, or fast food at a burger joint, or working on an assembly line in a factory, do it with Loving Intentions. The Love can be Felt. A part of You goes into Whatever You Do....Love Travels between the Worlds, like Sweetgrass and Music. Deepen Your Laugh and Smile lines, they are Beauty. Drink Deeply. Keep Dancin!!


The rose featured here is the Peace Rose.  I put her here as tribute to the peace this brave, gentle man's words always bring to my heart.  - Barbara Carvallo

The Lovely Viola by Barbara Carvallo

 

 

The season has been hard starting. The freeze took nearly all of my tulips, all of my daffodils; most of my crocus and my large purple alliums (cover photo) are small and sparse. However, the Goddess has seen fit to give me a stunning and magnificent show of viola. I have planted these for many years in many varieties. They cross pollinated to produce many shades and shapes. I give you then, the faces of the lovely viola.

 

The One that Stands Alone by Barbara Carvallo

 

Mother’s Day is upon us.  This year in the garden consecrated in Her name Mother Hecate offers one black tulip standing all alone where 50 should have bloomed.  The Great Crone Mother has stayed longer than is Her habit as if by altering the pattern of the seasons She would heal Herself of the grievous injuries inflicted upon Her by Earth’s ungrateful children.

They say God works in mysterious ways, as does Goddess.  However, unlike God She does not require an army of buffoons and lunatics to fill Her job orders.  She needs only whisper “I love you,” with one black tulip standing all alone where 50 should have bloomed.

To those of you who are mothers, I wish you a beautiful day.  I have no children who belong only to me.  I have tulips, making all the more precious the one that stands alone.

Earth Reclaims: by Jackie B. Steele

I wish for all the windigo banished from the Earthly plane.
The mental illness this windigo, of cannibalism
predator of soul, flesh & resources, driving all insane
... that has spread like wildfire with capitalism.
Eating the children of  all beings.

No preacher can honestly say
Not ever, then, now or more.
No prophets can light the way
agenda is at their door.

Can the life of Earth and Sea
Hear those words you've said?
Can any being count on we
as they grieve their dead?

No King or Queen of politics
Can save the souls of Trees
Only the heart of Lovers slips
through the branches as breeze.

A sacred chalice, the womb of Earth,
where all of life begins,
to all things she gives birth
and Death reclaims again.

From the roots, a song does rise,
deeply from the grail.
As surely as this house of cards,
ultimately will fail.

Feeding these grass root groups,
the blood of beings you have bled.
Truthful seeds of freedom sown
Upon the bones of the dead.

Sister, oh Sisters find your voice
We are the Mothers and Crone,
we are Earth's song, let's hold hands
to bring our Brothers home.

Like Death & dust, rust & mold & disease
the Earth she will reclaim,
feeding our grass 'roots' groups with ease
Loving yet powerfully we call out her name.

No preacher can honestly say,
not ever, to simply just pray.
No king or Queen of politics
can save the souls of Trees.
Only the hearts of lovers, slips
the Truth through branches as breeze.

Beltaine by Barbara Carvallo

May 1st marks the ancient Gaelic celebration of Beltaine.  In the Irish Gaelic language it is Bealtaine (pronounced béal-taine), and occurring halfway between the Spring Equinox and the Summer Solstice it is one of eight great Sabbats on the Wheel of the Year.  As a seasonal festival it marks the beginning of the Earth’s journey through the sweet, sensuous time of summer.

Bonfires lit on the sides of hills or more contained fires in populated areas symbolize the fire of life that is generated at this time.  Young and energetic animals, newly immerging perennials, blossoming fruit trees and budding roses tells us that Goddess Herself has released the fire, growing steadily since the Quickening at Imbolc within Her womb.

Yellow flowers are sacred at this time.  Primrose, hazel, marsh marigold and others adorn altars and are given to friends and loved ones in bouquets with Beltaine blessings for regeneration, healing and new awareness.  Rich orange Carnelian stones symbolizing a gardener’s confidence and will to action may rest and glow with fire opals, the sun’s surrogate, in the light of yellow and pale green candles on the altar as well.

Holy Wells, sacred to the Goddess Brigit, are also included in the joy and beauty of Beltaine.  In my training these wells are symbolized by water in a ritual bowl and used in moonlight for scrying.  This is a form of meditation whereby focusing on the water, the blood of the Goddess, contained in a womb like vessel presents a conduit for entering the collective unconscious.  In this altered state one perceives in a limited way with the eyes of the Goddess and hears Her voice, thus deepening our insight and enriching our awareness so that we might observe with what my Irish grandmother called the “sight.”  It is the past, bleeding through the present and into the future that we see.  Do not confuse this with the inanity of fortune telling.  It is a deep and revered communion with our Goddess that we seek.

At this time I invoke the company and aid of the sacred Fae.  According to my belief the Fairy people live in a land that is not of our dimension during the winter months.  When summoned in the first blush of summer they come and take up residence to assist the gardener in maintaining  flowers, herbs, shrubs and food planted in Her name and growing through Her grace.

Today I Iook out upon my gardens covered in a blanket of snow that falling feather like from a late winter’s sky obscures the spring from view.  It is 31 degrees here on the Plains.  The celebration of Beltaine and the calling of the Fae is postponed like the season itself.  The gentle Brigit stands behind a lace veil waiting for the Crone of Winter to recede from the landscape.  Brigit knows and by Her benevolence so do I that the Great Lady stays for a purpose.  I wonder how many will understand that purpose.