Book of Eucalypt

My new book, Herne the Hunter: Myth, Legend and Devotion of the Horned God comes out in one month’s time. I can hardly believe it’s nearly here.

Of late my focus has been on watching the changing of the land with where I live now, as being a 66km drive from my old house means I’m in a different planting environment, it’s a lot windier, and (as I know I mention often) I have a beautiful garden to tend to.

I keep “harping on” about my garden because it’s beautiful, and overwhelming, and it makes me feel so incredibly connected to my grandparents of both maternal and paternal lines.

After counting 52 remaining roses (bushes, traditional and climbing) and not yet learning all of their names and colour variations, I feel connected to my maternal Pop who loved his roses and I often think of him in his front garden. I especially felt him with me as I found “the” kneeling stool that I always remember him utilising available at my local Tip Shop.

“MINE!” I proclaimed as I parked the car directly in front of it, the chain fence between me and the item I had been manifesting finding for the last four months.

I feel my paternal Nanna and Poppy with me each time I “do my lap” of the garden after I’ve been in the office, in particular where they believe I should put a pergola and have a fernery. Maternal Poppy agrees, then reminds me of the one he had where my cousins and I would often hide pegs during our childhood “peg game”.

Politely, I remind them that I have other ideas for that particular space, especially now since I’ve fixed the irrigation timer and the chrysanthemums are now reclaiming the space after being dormant through the summer.

Here in Australia, many of us who follow the Wheel of the Year associate Samhain with Anzac Day, a day of remembrance for the Australian and New Zealand soldiers (particularly those of World Wars 1 and 2). It’s a fitting correlation as the veils are thin in our Southern Hemisphere, and we can utilise that to bring honour to our own ancestors.

I knew the veils had thinned when, doing my morning throat chakra meditation, my childhood friend came to visit. I’ve only heard from her a handful of times in the ten years since her passing, and it was such a pleasant surprise.

I immediately had to message my mother who often gets visits at this time as a preparation warning, only to find that the ancestors had beat me to it!

Within Druidry, we also connect to the ideas of Ancestors being beyond our own bloodline. It’s late and I don’t have my books at hand, but I am sure it’s within Julie Brett’s Australian Druidry that she speaks of the Ancestors of Blood, of Mud, and Inspiration. Otherwise, I’m remembering back to the days in Sydney when we spoke about that in a friends living room, or out in the bush.

In previous years I would bring special attention to those of inspiration, such as my Grade Three teacher (for example) and particular members of our Pagan community (yes, the one with the fox tail!). As I venture further into my 40s and life post-menopause I’m feeling a stronger-than-ever desire to focus on Samhain this year of my bloodline ancestors.

I’ve mentioned my paternal and maternal grandparents above. Top and tailing beans last night in the kitchen a joke was made that we’re “becoming Nonna’s” and my goodness, my Oma would not have a bar of that! “Tell her you’re not a Nonna, you’re an OMA!” she said as she watched over me. Oma, my paternal Pop’s mother, is such a force within my life and within my practice. Most of what I know about her comes from her, and she is a guiding light for me in multiple ways.

A particular father figure is another who comes from blood-adjacent. He is another that I was unfortunately too late to meet, however I’m thankful every sunny day for the first time he taught me how to use his lawn mower that I inadvertently inherited.

I love that I can tune into self, into my new home, into this relatively new landscape and feel instantly connected to those who came before me. Sometimes I forget just how long it’s taken me to get to this point and I will admit that I do often take it for granted. It was thirty years this year that I first met my Oma – and she passed in the 1950s.

There has been a lot of changes in my life since moving house almost five months ago, and I do believe these changes have helped me become more open to this connection. Changing my awareness of my diet, my surroundings – heck, after a planned town electricity outage it was realised how much better we feel without anything plugged in! – it’s all built up to this point where I feel as though I’m finally comfortable putting into action all the things I’ve learned over years and years of various pathways.

Do I sound a bit pleased with myself? Probably. I’m OK with that. In trying to be reflective about Samhain and connecting with the Ancestors I can see now that I re-read and edit the above that it has drifted away from what I initially planned to write.

Because it doesn’t feel like it’s just me sitting here in all of this anymore. It hasn’t for a while, if I’m being honest. The garden, the house, the turning of the season as Samhain edges closer… it all feels inhabited. I don’t mean in a grand and dramatic sense but in that quiet way you find when you’re sitting on the front veranda looking over the flowers in bloom with a cuppa.

Samhain feels different this year. There is a very strong sense that I am being reminded of how I’ve gotten here, how to be thankful to all those who helped me get to where I am now.

I think that’s where this sense of… contentment, for lack of a better word, is coming from.

I suspect I’m not the only one having the last word here.