The Signal Fires


My clothes smell of smoke from the burning bowl in the Women’s Garden. We arrived early tonight to spread bags of rich mulch on the herb spiral and to cover the pathway of the spiral with small pale stones.

Our usual gathering time was taken up with a good conversation about the best ways to help our elder-friend whose home is the Women’s Garden. We had bright conversations about snacks and strength and nutrition. But it was almost 9 when we finished up.

Too late for a fire? I asked. My other garden-companions allowed as how there must be fire and so we gathered chairs in the Crone’s Courtyard around the burning bowl and there was a fire and talk and even a little wine.

A blessing all the way around.

We think of these as signal fires for the new world we’re building. Like those beacons of old that sent news throughout a non-Internet landscape, our signal fires send news into the deep places of our hearts, reminding us of the joy of living on this beautiful planet and the kinship we find in working the land and learning together.

Tonight’s signal fire didn’t last very long because the hour was late and we all have much to do tomorrow. But it was enough, for now, to remind us of all we’re doing and all it is we are dreaming into being.

What are your signal fires? And where do you light them?


5 thoughts on “The Signal Fires

  1. The poems, of course. Oh, for a muse of fire…

    Speaking of which (witch)…I’ve got a chapbook coming out early next year from Jacar Press, which happens to be called (drum roll) Marks of the Witch. Trade you a copy for one of Staubs and Ditchwater? 🙂

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