the raven

Druid Matt McCabe has created a community garden and orchard in Haringey, North London. Noticing that a corner of an allotment plot was going to waste near his house, Matt applied to his local council to take it over. After cutting down a couple of sycamore trees, clearing the ground and getting rid of rubbish that had been dumped there, Matt and a few volunteers have planted fruit trees – apple and plum to name but two – and have recently created a wildlife pond, at present tenanted by tadpoles and pond skaters. The first dragon fly had also been seen.. There is a grotto made of living willow and a circular study area. There is space in the middle of this for a bonfire. The council has recently donated lavender bushes to plant around it. These will attract butterflies and bees.

Tamesis Seedgroup volunteered to help Matt with this and in the process learn something about the often tortuous process of getting funding and help from a council. We had an enlivening afternoon wresting thistles, couch grass and dandelions out of the ground. Matt’s children helped us even if, in the baby’s case this help consisted only of very serious attention to holding a piece of wood. I promoted myself to honorary child status to get an ice cream (cue sit down on a log). When we left the study area looked much more cared for and it was a pleasure to play a small part in something so special. While we were working a wren flew out of the flowering bramble hedge: a bird that once put cunning to good use as perhaps Matt has done in this venture.

The Community Orchard is currently up for a Green Pennant Environmental Award.

Druidry is about loving the land and service to all beings. Matt has put this into practice and, with some help, nursed a tiny piece of Haringey back to health. May the gods and goddesses of the land protect this garden and bless him and his family.

(‘Editor’s’ note: the pictures are thumbnails. Click on them to see a larger version.)

We returned to the Chiswick Eyot to celebrate the Summer Solstice. Having last been there in February for an initial exploration, it was a shock (though of course it shouldn’t have been) to find it thickly grown with vegetation – a lot of ragwort which I fondly imagined from a distance to be St. John’s Wort – and various umbelliferous plants as well as a symphony of willow leaves blowing in the warm wind.

We met at 10.30 a.m. to take advantage of the low tide. Having climbed up onto the eyot near to what I think of as the ancient triple willow we had the place to ourselves for the ritual. Hilde had journeyed to find the right formula for the ceremony, and the idea was to have candles floating in a bowl of Thames water in the centre of our circle to unify the elements of fire and water. It was a lovely thought and the symbolism of it burned bright in all our hearts. Unfortunately, though, the breeze was os boisterous that the flames went out – fire quenched by air.

We went through an inspiring ceremony. Andrew blessed the circle with well water that I had brought from the Glastonbury Summer Assembly. He splashed it over us with a bunch of water mint from his pond and Kris (one of the four newcomers to the group for this meeting) smudged us with a putatively flaming dried bunch of the same herb. Sadly, our focus at one stage was on healing thoughts for a young man who had been tragically killed in his teens. Some of us knew his fifteen year old girlfriend. I hoped his soul might be finding freedom and joy in some equally beautiful place of sun and wind and water. I spoke for the river, Mark spoke for the sun and Greg spoke for our tribes, ranging from our seedgroup to the larger tribe of humanity. Then, if we wished, we spoke our prayers for our own paths as, at this time of the highest sun we began to turn our attention once more to the dying of the light (though not quite yet, oh Goddess, not yet).

In the days that have followed several of us have expressed how profound a mark this ceremony made on our psyches. Chiefly it was the vibrant greenness of the dancing leaves, the unending flow of the glittering water and the subtle voices of the wind. At one point I looked to my right and watched a heron flying up the river with slow wingbeats, neck elegantly retracted. I felt I was dissolving into the shimmer of this world that is so threatened, melting into the Spirit that will not let the world perish – though we may. Most importantly though, I knew I was not alone in my perceptions and for this brief time stood hand in hand and heart to heart with kindred spirits who were not afraid to express such feelings. A rare privilege in this reality.

Then for a picnic in a small park and three bottles of mead – or was it four. No-one can quite remember.

Thank you Hilde – and everyone – because all the different energies contribute to the unique nature of these precious occasions. It was great to be with old and new friends.