It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonie,
Beneath the moon’s unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie;
The time flew by, wi’ tentless heed, 5
Till, ’tween the late and early,
Wi’ sma’ persuasion she agreed
To see me thro’ the barley.
I went to a Lammas ritual put on by the local Druid group. I like this group. I love that they really live up to their “educate” the public stance. They explain their philosophies, the purpose of the ritual, and the significance of the parts of the ritual. Also they start on time. One day maybe I’ll post about “pagan standard time” or what I think of as “we are flaky and self-centered time.”
It was, as always with them, a good ritual. I love their inclusion of stories (often acted out by members). Of course, I do wish we had a larger space. While I am ever grateful to the local witchy shop for hosting these events, sometimes the number of people crammed into the tiny backyard space is a bit much.
Lammas is my favorite sabbat. I love the liminal moments. Southern California, is at the peak of its hot season at this time. Seriously, midsommer/summer solstice often requires a sweater at night – not by lammas. While I am not a huge fan of the heat, especially this year, Lammas means that it is almost over. The peak has been reached and we will start drifting into the cool days of autumn soon.
Kamille (mir unbekannter Art) in einem Weizenfeld (ebenfalls von mir nicht bestimmbar ist das fliegende Insekt in der rechten Bildschirmhälfte)