On Saturday I continued my digging in the dirt (cue Peter Gabriel) to plant gladiolus bulbs in rows along the fence that edges the lawn and a sprinkling of dahlias in strategic spots (I only had eight of them - dahlias, it seems, are expensive). I got very into the whole experience; it was very zen. Dig a hole with my spade, put in a bit of plant-food-infused soil, place the bulb, say hello to the earthworm I'd disturbed, cover everybody back up with dirt, and move on to the next. It was cooler than it had been earlier in the week when I was planting pansies in window boxes and herbs in pots on the deck. A breeze was blowing and listening to sounds of the woods next to me, the birds chirping, and the occasional bee buzzing was lovely and meditative accompaniment to my work. I had folded up a towel to rest my knees on and at one point I laughed because I realized that my dirt-covered holey old towel was rather like a prayer pillow, providing cushioning for a supplicant. How appropriate, I thought, because kneeling amidst the wonders of nature as I was - surrounded by forest and wind and creatures and burgeoning signs of Spring - felt very much like praying for this witch.

Whatever meditation or ritual I usually do is at an altar in my apartment in the city, very much indoors. My experience on Saturday felt like the Pagan version of someone used to kneeling alone at bedtime, rosary beads in hand, suddenly finding herself praying in a grand cathedral with all the trappings. It really drove home how simple, and how important, getting a little Earth into my Earth-based spirituality is. And I was just planting flowers, talking to earthworms, leaving little rock altars to the faeries in hopes that they would keep the deer from eating the tender shoots when my gladiolii start to grow.

Posted by Angela-Eloise at 9:26 AM