Lammas apples


Working in an office and living in an apartment, nonetheless I try to spend time out under the sky at the weekends and especially at those points of the year where the wheel turns. Tomorrow is Lammas, the first harvest festival of the year.

Where I live we have a wonderful rural life museum built in the house and lands of a Victorian farm, and staffed almost entirely by volunteers. (Have you ever noticed how most volunteers are at or close to retirement? I wonder if the number of volunteers overall is shrinking as we age and die, or if the volunteer workforce is replenished constantly by more “oldies” coming through the ranks.)


I visited the museum today, and sat on this very bench in the sunshine.

The last few weeks, life in the world has seemed so bleak, so almost unendurable that I expect like many of us, it’s taken all my resolution to look at the news each morning to see what latest act of large terror or small meanness has occurred.

What this means to me is that the little things of beauty are not little at all, they are of huge importance. So I’m choosing to focus on the bounty of everything around me at this festival time. Here in the museum’s Victorian garden, lavender plants are smothered in bees, a rosemary bush leaves its astringent scent on my hands when I brush against it, beans are ready for the picking. And the fruit trees are swelling ripely. Not quite ready yet to be harvested but only a few weeks away, like the apple tree in my photo.

Lammas blessings to all.


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