Days as Long as Weeks

We’re moving towards the Summer Solstice and the days are stretching themselves out until the solstice arrives.  I love waking to the sound of the mockingbirds and crows in the yard and to stepping out of a 7 o’clock meeting after two long hours and finding that the sky is still a little bright in the West.

The last week has been incredibly full–routine doctor visits, extreme gardening, mailing copies of my little book to all the folks who had preordered it and meeting with my private students.

All leading up to the funnest Friday night–when the good folks at Accent on Books held the official launch party for “Staubs and Ditchwater.”


My friend Daystar came over in the afternoon (after work) and we created some crudites platters. My daughter made a chocolate carrot cake in the shape of a book and decorated it with marzipan leather britches, a book mark and a yellow chicken foot.  We made little biscuits and a gallon of my Aunt Irene’s sweet tea.

I didn’t count heads because I was too distracted but friends said there were about 100 people there.  Certainly I saw a lot of people who mean a lot to me and we sold out the first printing of the first edition of the little book.


More have been ordered through the publisher and I am now planning a limited tour of bookstores in the area.  I’ll post that at my website as I charm folks into having me at their stores. I have press packets to send to a couple of my favorites, so I’ll keep you posted on that.

This morning was my morning at Mother Grove.  It was a meditation morning so I went in early, tidied the altars, set out fresh tealight candles and lit some rich incense.  I listened to a recording of Annelinde Metzner’s beautiful concert “In the Mother Grove” as I moved through the altars, moving amongst the Goddess images, lighting candles.

I always start in the North, at the main altar, and move deosil as I light the East, the South and the West. I touch the Goddess images–from our fat and powerful Cog Woman to porcelain Tara, to fiery Brigid to the long-necked and ebony Osun in the West.

I go to the Ancestor altar last and spend time with Them, in love and honor. I run my fingertips along that big shed snakeskin.  I smile to think of the sugar skulls and the BVMs that set on different shelves, adding to the bitter-sweetness of priestessing to the Dead.

Our air conditioning hasn’t gotten installed yet so the chapel space heats up quickly with the candles.  When the people had removed themselves for our after-Temple coffee talk, I blew out the candles in reverse order–West to South to East to North. I left the Ancestors for last and patted the round basket on the top shelf as I made sure the candle in its red glass votive holder was out.

It was a sweet ending to such a busy week.

Or was it the beginning of a week that is coming with the dawn, and the noisy mockingbirds?

Our understanding of time is so…inadequate, don’t you think?


2 thoughts on “Days as Long as Weeks

  1. This was a nice and lovely blogpost. I have to say your essays are probably my favorite part of the book. I enjoyed the whole thing (and will post a review on my blog in the next little bit), but the essays really spoke to me. Especially the one about your mother coming back. The emotion in your writings about personal anecdotes and vignettes is astounding! I look forward to your next post and book.

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