This time of year in Colorado, much like in many other places, is hot and dry, and the growing things seem to languor in the heat, leisurely fruiting and resting in the sunshine. Everything grows more slowly—except the weeds, of course. Our yard has been a plethora of short, dry grass and what I have been referring to as our garden of weeds. Not only were the weeds around the house reaching record height, but we even had weeds growing proudly in the middle of the lawn, front and back. I know we probably should have done some tending to the yard before now, but if we had, I would not have been gifted with the tremendous blessing of insight I was given this morning.
In preparation for our First Harvest celebration, we gathered our wits and tools to prepare for the great reaping at The Prairie Home. It turns out that the weeds I thought were sprouting in the middle of the back yard weren’t ordinary weeds. We were growing corn. I sat there on the ground, preparing to remove these “weeds” when the thought washed over me: this wasn’t just a misplaced plant. This sprouting and growing and healthy thing before me was borne out of our piety. And there were more, several, in fact, in a seeming fairy circle of corn. One of the ingredients in our Earth Mother offering mixture is dried corn kernels. All the corn that was growing in this yard, in this space around our fire pit, came from the offerings we made before our Fire to the Earth Mother. And here she was, giving it back to us.
In preparation for our First Harvest celebration, we gathered our wits and tools to prepare for the great reaping at The Prairie Home. It turns out that the weeds I thought were sprouting in the middle of the back yard weren’t ordinary weeds. We were growing corn. I sat there on the ground, preparing to remove these “weeds” when the thought washed over me: this wasn’t just a misplaced plant. This sprouting and growing and healthy thing before me was borne out of our piety. And there were more, several, in fact, in a seeming fairy circle of corn. One of the ingredients in our Earth Mother offering mixture is dried corn kernels. All the corn that was growing in this yard, in this space around our fire pit, came from the offerings we made before our Fire to the Earth Mother. And here she was, giving it back to us.
In reciprocity, our relationships with the Kindreds grow and evolve, sometimes in leaps and bounds like the first shoots in the spring that race toward the sky to soak up all the sun they so desperately crave for their growth, and other times, slowly and steadily, like the grass in the summertime lazily sleeping in the afternoon heat. No matter the speed, when we are in right relationship with the Kindreds: our Gods, our Ancestors, our Nature Kin, and our Earth, our bonds will continue to grow.
As I continued to tidy up around the house, I found other evidence of relationship building, other leftover bits that show the work and depth of our relationship-building. We are almost out of oil for the lamps we have on the Hearth and Folk Shrine. The tea light supply is getting low. The incense is available in only a couple scents, and the evidence of the personal piety on each of our personal shrines exists clearly in the number of sticks and ashes that have accumulated there since the last high day.
As I continued to tidy up around the house, I found other evidence of relationship building, other leftover bits that show the work and depth of our relationship-building. We are almost out of oil for the lamps we have on the Hearth and Folk Shrine. The tea light supply is getting low. The incense is available in only a couple scents, and the evidence of the personal piety on each of our personal shrines exists clearly in the number of sticks and ashes that have accumulated there since the last high day.
Each of us doing the work of personal relationship-building will notice the evidence of our piety showing up in the most remarkable and simple of places. It always shows up. We just need to have the eyes to see it—and to hear the Kindreds speaking back to us through it. What evidence of your piety lies waiting to inspire you? Mine was a simple gift of corn and sticks, and it was a beautiful harvest of the work that I’ve sown at my shrine. May we all continue to grow together in our relationships with the Kindreds and in our relationships with one another in our community.
Blessings,
Rev. Bee
Rev. Bee
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