The Druidic College

June and July are great months in the kitchen. In June we find an abundance of fresh local berries in the market, with the local strawberries at their peak, and the raspberries just starting. In July the blackberries and blueberries are in full swing, and local apricots and peaches start to make their appearance. Yum!

Fresh fruits provide us with a wide range of nutrients and phytochemicals that help to prevent various diseases, including heart disease and cancers. The more colorful the assortment of fruits and vegetables we eat, the greater variety of antioxidants we get.

I am often posed the question, “why Arthurian?” Why do we style ourselves as a “Celtic-Wiccan, Arthurian” order? The “Celtic-Wiccan” speaks for itself: the Celtic tradition of Wicca, which we feel is the most authentic and comfortable for us. But the “Arthurian” label confuses many. I believe this is because they tend to be familiar with only the romantic, “Tennysonian,” version of Arthur.

As an herb, lavender has been used for over 2,500 years. In ancient times the Egyptians, Phoenicians, and peoples of Arabia used lavender for mummification and perfume. The Ancient Greeks used lavender to fight insomnia, mental illness and aching backs. And the ancient Romans used lavender in public bathhouses, for cooking, and scenting the air. Lavender comes from the Latin word lavare meaning “to wash” or livendula meaning “livid or bluish”. It is indigenous to the Mediterranean and now grows all over the world.

It is an evergreen woody shrub that grows up to three feet tall.

Since this is my first article for our beloved Talisman I have chosen to start with the ancients. Since the beginning our ancestors have used nature and the elements secfor divination, so I will start with Air. Aeromancy (divination by the observation of provoked omens involving atmospheric phenomena, including the wind and the appearance of clouds) is a timeless practice.

The ant emerges from the hill for the first time this morning. The scent in the air, the trail left behind by his peers, tells him what to do and where to go. It is not just the smell of the hundreds of ants that have preceded him, but a specific message: “Food this way.”

As he follows the established trail, he reinforces that message, leaving the same scent behind him. He makes dozens of trips back and forth from the bramble patch, harvesting the fallen berries. Delicious and sweet, they will be stored in the mound until winter.

One warm evening I thought I would go out
And buzz around the neighborhood.
Oh! There’s a house and the window is open.
I think I’ll just buzz in and sit on the wall.
Oh Gee’s they’re fighting about money, same old, same old.
I’m out of here!
Another house and the window is open,
I’ll buzz right in.
Smell, sniff, what is that yummy smell.
Another Couple, they’re smooch, smooch, kiss, kiss to each other.
I’ll buzz right t the table.
Yum! Steak and potatoes,
I’ll get some of that, dig in, yum, yum.
This taste good with a full tummy.
I said, “yummy” with a burp and,

I was born Jan. 1, 1959. My birthplace was Guantanamo Bay, 300 miles north of Havana, Cuba. I was an orphan, but they said I looked a lot like my father. My parents were murdered by a well known leader living in Havana. That’s where my story begins.

Three days after my birth I arrived at the Capitol. According to my family I was in search for man 6’1” wearing a camoflage outfit. He wore a long beard and runors had it that he smokes Havana cigars.

Ah! The sun is going down at last. These long spring evenings sure don’t give you much time to work! Time to make a move; get to work if I want to eat.

I think I’ll move to a better location. The last web didn’t yield much, too far from the dog run (if you know what I mean) and too close to that grumpy old wolf spider that hogs the whole bush.

This one should do nicely, nice thick hedge and a big clear space for my ‘flying victuals’. And what is that big shiny red thing? But it has that straight, polished twig sticking up nice and high. Yes this should do well.

One day a young yellow spotted salamander was swimming in a vernal pond fed by Spring rains and melting snow. His family had been returning to this pond for many years. They would spend Spring and part of Summer here before they returned to the damp forests to spend the rest of Summer, and then Fall and Winter in hibernation.

Wake up, peek out, it's light out, it's bright out.
Look and see, what can I see, from my hole, in the tree?
From my nest, where I sleep, where myself I do keep?
It's dry, it's dry; oh me, oh my, no rain falling from the sky.
Look around, all around, here and there, up and down.
Nothing there, now I dare, to venture where I might find fare.
I might find food, something good, for my brood, who need some food.
In the ground, something brown, sniff around, hard and round.
Pick it up, front paws cup, time to sup, to eat it up.