A Druid’s Web Log, October 2019 – The Year of the Woolly Bears in New England

It has been an interesting past Moonth here on the mountain. For the first time since I moved here decades ago the well has gone completely dry. I am living in pioneer conditions here in the Oak forest – the only water I have is what I haul in. I have become an expert at bathing and washing my hair out of a single pot of water. I have profound sympathy for the women and girls worldwide who are expected to carry water every day. It takes hours of time each week. The only upside is carrying water to the car and then to the house is making my arms strong!

Yesterday I went for a walk in one of my favorite wild places, a shady woodland where there are usually ponds filled with turtles, tadpoles and frogs. It was a shock to find the ponds completely dried up. A week ago we had record breaking heat, too. I wonder how these animals will survive.

I have decided to call this year “The Year of the Woolly Bears”. Every year one species, flora or fauna, stands out and this year the Woolies are everywhere. I have to patrol the lawn daily to move them to the leaf litter at the end of the garden, so they don’t get stepped on. According to weather lore, the size of the orange stripe on the Woolies predicts the winter weather. Judging by their color this winter will be warm.

The end of September is the time for seasonal herbal duties; acorns are collected to be made into flour and Horse Chestnuts (Buckeyes) are gathered to be frozen and used in salve making. A store of new apples is laid by in the refrigerator and the last of the Comfrey leaves and Mugwort are frozen to be used in healing ointments.

Goldenrods and Asters are still blooming in the fields, to the delight of the bees. I have picked about a dozen Milkweed pods, as I do every year, and spread the seeds behind the house, to grow leaves and flowers for next year’s visitation of butterflies (something always eats them, I am not sure what species).

A poem that for me, perfectly describes the season;

“September”

The goldenrod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.

The gentian’s bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusky pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest
In every meadow-nook;
And asters by the brookside
Make asters in the brook.

From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes’ sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens
[October] days are here,
With summer’s best of weather,
And autumn’s best of cheer.

~Helen Hunt Jackson
1831-1885

“New England Aster ( Aster novae-angliae) is deployed in decoction internally, with a strong decoction externally, in many eruptive diseases of the skin; it removes also the poisonous state of the skin caused by Rhus or Shumach.”

Wild Asters medicinal uses

And looking forward to Samhain (Halloween), this is one of my favorite poems for that festival;

“Sometimes A Wild God”

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine.
When the wild god arrives at the door,
You will probably fear him.

He reminds you of something dark
That you might have dreamt,
Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.
He will not ring the doorbell;
Instead he scrapes with his fingers
Leaving blood on the paintwork,
Though primroses grow
In circles round his feet.

You do not want to let him in.
You are very busy.
It is late, or early, and besides…
You cannot look at him straight
Because he makes you want to cry.

The dog barks.
The wild god smiles,
Holds out his hand.
The dog licks his wounds
And leads him inside.

The wild god stands in your kitchen.
Ivy is taking over your sideboard;
Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades
And wrens have begun to sing
An old song in the mouth of your kettle.
‘I haven’t much,’ you say
And give him the worst of your food.

He sits at the table, bleeding.
He coughs up foxes.
There are otters in his eyes.
When your wife calls down,
You close the door and
Tell her it’s fine.
You will not let her see
The strange guest at your table.

The wild god asks for whiskey
And you pour a glass for him,
Then a glass for yourself.
Three snakes are beginning to nest
In your voicebox. You cough.
Oh, limitless space.
Oh, eternal mystery.
Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.
Oh, miracle of life.
Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.

You cough again,
Expectorate the snakes and
Water down the whiskey,
Wondering how you got so old
And where your passion went.

The wild god reaches into a bag
Made of moles and nightingale-skin.
He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,
Raises an eyebrow
And all the birds begin to sing.
The fox leaps into your eyes.
Otters rush from the darkness.
The snakes pour through your body.
Your dog howls and upstairs
Your wife both exults and weeps at once.

The wild god dances with your dog.
You dance with the sparrows.
A white stag pulls up a stool
And bellows hymns to enchantments.
A pelican leaps from chair to chair.
In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs.
Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields.
Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs.

The hills echo and the grey stones ring
With laughter and madness and pain.
In the middle of the dance,
The house takes off from the ground.
Clouds climb through the windows;
Lightning pounds its fists on the table.
The moon leans in through the window.
The wild god points to your side.

You are bleeding heavily.
You have been bleeding for a long time,
Possibly since you were born.
There is a bear in the wound.
‘Why did you leave me to die?’
Asks the wild god and you say:

‘I was busy surviving.
The shops were all closed;
I didn’t know how. I’m sorry.’
Listen to them:
The fox in your neck and
The snakes in your arms and
The wren and the sparrow and the deer…
The great un-nameable beasts
In your liver and your kidneys and your heart…

There is a symphony of howling.
A cacophony of dissent.
The wild god nods his head and
You wake on the floor holding a knife,
A bottle and a handful of black fur.

Your dog is asleep on the table.
Your wife is stirring, far above.
Your cheeks are wet with tears;
Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.
A black bear is sitting by the fire.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine
And brings the dead to life.

~ Tom Hirons

FOREST UPDATE

The USA only has 6-7% of its forests left. As bird and insect populations are in steep decline, the time has come to protect the trees. In my neck of the woods there are landowners who are still clear cutting forests to put in solar panels. That practice need to stop. Solar panels are very much needed but should be sited rationally; in already cleared land, on wastelands, parking lots, old landfills, on municipal buildings and schools. Here is a sample of the struggle that is going on in New England (video); and an article about intact forests in the United States: how proforestation mitigates climate change and serves the greatest good.

BOOK NEWS AND WORKSHOPS

And another book that is appropriate for the upcoming Samhain season; where to find it:
Amazon
Inner Traditions

Workshops and Classes

Celebrate Samhain!
Sunday, October 20, 2019 at 10 AM – 6 PM
Double Tree by Hilton Nashua, 2 Somerset Pkwy, Nashua, NH
Admission is $10 with donation of a non-perishable food item (or $12 without) and grants access to all the day’s events, entertainment, and vendor rooms. Food donations will be made to the Nashua Soup Kitchen & Shelter.
Ellen Evert Hopman will speak about herbs to honor the dead.
Study Herbalism with Ellen Evert Hopman, Herbalist AHG
A Six Month Intensive in Western Mass
October 19 – April 2019
Intro to Herbalism and Self Care
Two Saturdays a month, 1-5 PM near Amherst, MA
Western Materia Medica, Chinese 5 Element Theory,
Flower Essence Counseling, Formula making, Hands on Herbalism,
Ethnobotany, Herb walks, Homeopathic First Aid, Live case taking and more.
Folks are signing up now for this. A deposit ($100 to cover the copying fee) will hold your space. Please send to EE Hopman POB 219, Amherst, MA 01004. Include your name, address, email and phone.

Coming in 2020

Ellen will present at the Midwest Women’s Herbal Conference
May 29, 30 & 31, 2020
Almond, WI
Ellen will speak at Hex Fest August 7-9, 2020
New Orleans, LA

*A reminder! You can always order signed copies of all my books from me via PayPal here *

Below you will find the last Moonth’s collection of archaeology, herb, climate, nature, Celtic, Fairy, health and religion news and much more. Enjoy!