|Remains of 2011 Autumn Harvest Circle offerings.|
As I grow older, I become less & less convinced that coincidence is a common occurrence.
Several weeks ago now, as part of my efforts to greet the Land, I visited the site where I had attended a women's circle last Autumn. There, I had left an offering on behalf of my entire family, the remains of which I suspected might still be lingering about on the forest floor. I am not entirely sure what drew me there, but I think I was hoping to recapture some of the magic of that evening & to reconnect with a familiar space & a fond memory.
When the Land greets you back, more often than not, It catches you unawares. This is the joy of it, is it not?
Rambling over the slight drop & descending into the cluster of trees where our rite had been held, our feet crunched in the dried leaves that carpeted the ground about us. It had been very dry those first weeks after we arrived. Advancing closer, I could see bits of our offering peeking from the undergrowth at the base of the old birch tree. We stopped short however, because a few feet from our goal, my eyes fell upon this vision in white:
|The glamour slime (Fuligo spp.?).|
A luscious, flawless, wet beauty, making her way across the parched & crispy litter -- litter which was more akin to bran flakes than last year's leaves. What the helvella?
I wondered where she was going in this forbidding, desiccated place, but then decided that was her business. My business was to revel in her sheer awesomeness. Slime moulds are rockstars. You don't bother with the how's & the why's, you just revel in their glamour because it will most likely be lost to you tomorrow. We gushed & played paparazzi for the beauty queen, then we left her to her travels...
The perfect greeting. The perfect gift. Few things can make me feel so welcome, so celebrated, so at home. The Land knows these things, but how?