Q & A #2

What is the magick of your land? How does your land feel different from other lands you have visited?

This is actually a far harder question than it appears. To me, it is akin to asking "how do you feel differently from other people that you may know?"

The land on this property had been abused when we bought it. It had gone from forest to farm before the farm was split up and our house was built. The man who built and occupied our home was a gardener; he planted and nurtured and encouraged. When he died, his nephew inherited. Trees were cut down, flowering bushes and flower gardens dug up, the land and its spirits, starved. People in the neighborhood started parking their cars on the lawn, throwing their trash on it, walking through what was left of the flower beds. In short, it was neglected and abused.

It didn't trust us at first. Why should it? And we made mis-steps; planting things in places they had no business being planted, getting over-ambitious with projects and not following through, experimenting with chemical gardening before going organic. Little by little, we learned to pay attention and the land and its spirits learned that we would listen. We paid our dues, our homage, our sacrifices, in time and effort, in sweat, tears and blood, shed both accidentally and deliberately. The land is cared for and protected and in turn, it cares for and protects us.

So what is the feeling of the magic of this land? It is a rich place and a place of protection. When I come home tired, stressed, drained, I can walk on the grass, into the circle and feel myself being fed. The sensation comes from below me, from the ground. It comes from the sides, from the trees and bushes. It comes from above, from the tallest bordering trees, the birds, the air itself.

There are birds and animals here that do not spend time in other peoples yards, preferring the wild areas. But my gardens have (for the most part) been left alone.

I'm not really sure how to compare this place to most others. Most of the time I keep myself so tightly shielded when I leave it, that to effect me the sense of a place must be very strong.