Organizer Tish Owen had asked me if I was okay with teaching my first class on Thursday and it was scheduled for 11 am, just before lunch. But before that, I was charged with doing an opening ritual at 9 am, the time the gate opened for realz, as they say.
That turned out to be an idea not so good. I had warned the organizers that I don’t do “Pagan Standard Time”–the odd notion that if a ritual or other event is scheduled to start at a certain time, it will be delayed by at least half an hour. I will generally allow a wee grace period for travel or traffic but I personally find it disrespectful to announce a time and then keep people waiting.
So, I don’t do that, as a rule, and thought they ought to know.
I slung my green ruanna over my shoulders, picked up some suitable treats for the land spirits (including a wee tot of some Black Bush) and headed for the ritual field.
I stoof under the big poplar there, in the shade, and waited.
At ten past the appointed time, I smiled to myself and set my personal intention for the festival. I grounded and set wards. I left the land spirits some hideous candy, some shiny stones and a drink of Irish. I chanted softly, honored my Divines and left the field to get ready for my class–Growing Your Own Botanica.
My cool scheme for this fest was to pack my class supplies into my daughter’s old rolling suitcase and that turned out to be a good plan. I set up in the main hall, in front of the stone fireplace and had a good crowd to talk about herbs, their growing and preservation.
I strung a clothesline and clothes-pinned herbs to it
There were lots of good questions and discussions and a lot of people went away knowing a bit about where I’m from and what I do. And I was headed to take some classes of my own–Dark Goddesses, Awakening Spirit, Exploring the Feminine Divine. And I looked forward to hearing Tuatha Dea live at the evening concert.