When Gardening is a Prayer

I've been putting off my gardening more than I should - granted, not completely but it's taken me a while to get motivated to get my hands dirty.

See, early morning gardening is what my grandmother taught me. It was the most important lesson - get out, get dirty, get messy, get the yardwork done before half the block was awake yet. Get the iris thinned, get the trimming done, get those trees mulched, get the flowers watered before the sun was too high. Work in the wee hours just after sunrise and greet the day the way we were meant to, with dirt in our hair and a smile on our faces.

So when himself and I finally made the decision that the bush beside the house with runners that were climbing onto the house itself, leaving awful sucker roots in the pain and the siding, climbing under the siding and into the joints of the porch, well... it was time. It had to go.

I put it off for days. Weeks. I didn't want to, because I... well I don't really know. There was something in me that was afraid that the moment I was out there, working hard with gloves and pruning shears and bags and cans for the greenery I was chopping down I would break down, dissolving into my tears. But it had to go - it was nothing but a foul smelling bush that was a home for black flies and (at some point) a wasp nest. (don't worry, no stings... the thing was empty and partially crushed)

So I woke up this morning, got dressed and skipped coffee, and strapped on my gloves. It was freezing outside and my short sleeves were reminding me of that as the wind whipped by. So I worked harder. I warmed up. I hacked and pulled and tore and bit by bit stripped the bush down to nothing but a stump. It took about an hour. I was sweaty and breathless, and when I took a break I heard my grandmother's voice whisper on the breeze how I'd done a good job. I smiled, just a few tears in my eyes, but I smiled.

My coffee tasted amazing this morning.
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Have you ever stood under a Full Moon and watched the light explode out from behind a cloud? Have you felt the flood that comes from the light spilling out completely into the night and continuing to pour out into the world till the moon is dark and quiet?

This weekend is the Full Moon. Plant your flowers and crops this week, tuck them into the soil and tell them the long wash of moonlight is coming to nurture them. The flood is coming for you too, and it's up to you to use that light in ways that benefit your path best. And as the New Moon comes, all dark and calm and quiet, settle yourself in and listen to the messages there, and know the Goddesses and Gods speak there.

Blessings.