Grandmother Moon by Jackie B. Steele

Grandmother Moon waxing towards fullness in the Constellation Of Virgo.
Also called Snow Crust Moon (in the North), Worm Moon, & Maple Sugar Moon.
The taps are going in.....
Sap is rising, birds are calling in Spring, the frozen lake sings and moans of breakup. 
The winds of change blow across our dancing emerald world,
Resonating Blessings....

Goddess in Snow by Barbara Carvallo

Under this perfect mantle of snow little iris, Spring tulips, daffodils and honeysuckle wait their turn at the light. Goddess presides over all.

"My Dreams Are in Color" by Jackie B. Steel

There is a special place that I see where a maiden is dancing in the dazzling brilliance of a stars light. She is feeling and expressing how alive and unafraid she is. In Color I can feel her joy of life.

I see a small boy who has captured an injured bird to breathe warmth upon its small and fragile body. He laughs as the feathers are tickling inside his hands. In color he heals the bird and learns much about life. In light of his knowledge he sets the bird free into the winds of forever.

There is a rainbow that reach's from sky nation to the grass, in color I can see a gentle man nurturing this grassland and loving her. He touches and tends to life, the foods and herbs to sustain it. This gentle farmer, whose humble joy is the rain softly falling. His face holds lines from smiling broadly in the stars light.

I see a woman wading into the sea and reaching for the dolphins who laugh and play. In color she holds out her hands to embrace another life. This woman who delights in the rhythm of the sea that they share together so freely. In her heart she knows the peace and joy in allowing.

In this very special place even the turning of the world can transform the crystal laced forests of Winter to the fresh breezes of Spring. Turns and the fertile fullness of Summer to the color of change and completion of Autumn.

I see an old woman whose hands have given birth and cared for loved ones who have passed on. She will very wisely and abruptly cut away the end of a plants life so that its seeds can reach for the light without the shadow of its parent. In her eyes are the colors of mystery, and things we are bound to learn. This woman who delights in her cat and feeling that she IS love.

I hear an old man who continues the tale of how things were and on. This old man so enjoys telling of all the challenge and adventure that life has given him. In his being is the color of learning all he cared to know.

When the black and white of contracts and deeds, of governments and slaves, of rich and poor, of well being or illness start to close my view. I can remember and feel there is enough for all if we are wise in procreation. If we share gently and humanely. This I know with all that I am and my dreams are always in color.

Copyright:
J. Brandon Steele -1987

GARDENS AND LOVE IN THE RABBIT HOLE by Peno Hardesty

... GRACIAS GINA

the wind caught hold of the tiny seed and she felt for a moment a sense of purpose
falling down past the tree tops and branches
small birds sang
tiny insects smiled
she felt just a bit of the sudden stop before the gentle earth wrapped around her and she settled within

she rested and then she began to poke her beautiful green above the gentle earth
the flowers were beautiful
the flowers were perfect in their colour
the flowers were positioned
the flowers were named
the flowers were wanted and loved

flowers have identity
flowers have family
flowers have purpose

the tiny seed grew among the perfect flowers
the tiny seed had a name also
milkweed

milkweed
weed
weed
not good enough--weed
not perfect enough--weed
neither positioned nor family

the tiny seed
now a milkweed
tried to blend with the flowers
tried to join with the garden
tried so hard to fit in

her only friend though was a caterpillar
a caterpillar who fed on her green leaves

in time the caterpillar no longer came to visit
and the milkweed grew weak and tired from loneliness

it was too hard now to try to fit into the garden and the milkweed began to fall

the tears from the butterfly dropped gentle upon the withered leaves of the milkweed
giving awareness
of purpose

giving credibility to the name weed

giving love and gratitude

giving tomorrow a reason to be..................................................

blessings to all who understand..................

Imbolc, February 2, 2015 by Barbara Carvallo

On this day Goddess Brigit steps through the golden dawn and the Quickening begins.  All of Her children in the green world start to awaken.  Seed and bulb, root and vine will feel Winter receding in subtle ways imperceptible to what is left of human instinct and Earth consciousness. 

Gardeners and Witches know this stirring of new life as the Great Crone Hecate gradually withdraws Her mantle of cold and snowy white to make room for the Maiden’s green and glowing Spring.  

The Fae precede Brigit with drum and cymbal, flute and chime playing the music that will coax the Sun closer to the soil.  In the fullness of time as the Earth warms the Great Mother will spread Her arms and bring forth the richness of blossom and bloom to decorate Her terra cotta robes.  Thus the Wheel of the Year turns. 

Black Jade by Barbara Carvallo

 Black Jade is a miniature rose, small both in leaf and bloom size.  She is fragrant and very hardy.

On the Divide from Pagan Dreams by Barbara Carvallo

In the lusty evening the lilac light is splintered like stained glass,
Filling the spaces between pale saffron peony and blood tinged roses.
The wind whispers sweetly to the coming full moon,
Shinning kindly on the indigo blue fissures and ragged peaks of the Great Divide.

This is the breast of the Goddess soon to be sleeping in moonlight,
Breathing in starlight, loving all of Her creation with the beauty of Her presence.
Now as mountain streams roll on softly, Hecate steps toward the horizon in ebony and silver,
Obscuring the Divide under a perfect mantel of night.

Unseen the Goddess remains in the song of nocturnal insects,
The sweet scent of the flowers borne on a wandering breeze.
On the currents of piney coolness rolling down off the Divide,
Her voice fills the growing stillness, “I am with you morning, noon and night.”