I push my hands through the soil, beneath my black veil, in the dark of the forest, when the sun is low over the mountains and the twilight is creeping in over the trees.  I push my hands through the soft, wettish soil, allowing the tangle of roots to catch between my splayed hands.  Upturned stone slide over my palms, the cold earth, the soil of the garden of the Green Woman is breaking apart with each push, yielding readily to the turn.


The ritual began with a bath with hand collected sea salt crystals, root of mandrake, rosemary and some other herbs; things to make my my body feel cleansed, to make my spirit feel lighter.

To continue reading, see the original post “Digging“.