Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Yule Log '08

THE STORY OF THE YULE LOG.

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This was the first year we had a proper Yule Log. (Or my version of a Yule Log. <- ADMITTEDLY I DON'T KNOW MUCH; I LIKED HOW THE IDEA SOUNDED AND JUST RAN WITH THE CONCEPT WITHOUT BOTHERING TO DO ANY REAL RESEARCH, WHICH IS, NATURALLY, THE BEST WAY TO MAKE IDEAS -MORE REAL AND SPECIAL- TO YOU.)

On the 23rd of December (I KNOW, I KNOW, POST-YULE) we went out for winter walk to specifically find a Yule Log and possible Stoner Tree. (<- CHRISTMAS IS A BIG DEAL, OKAY? SO I HAVE A NAZI CHRISTMAS TREE IN THE LOUNGE THAT IS THE SHOW CHRISTMAS TREE THAT ADHERES TO A VERY STRICT COLOR-THEMED CODE WHICH MEANS A LOT OF FUN AND STUPID AND LOLTASTIC ORNAMENTS DON'T GET HUNG UP ON IT. SO, IN THE BACKROOM, WE HAVE THE STONER TREE WHICH IS DECORATED WITH MULTI-COLORED LIGHTS AND EVERYTHING THAT MAKES US LOL! AND AWW! THROUGHOUT THE FESTIVE SEASON.)

Along the way I found holly growing at the Disturbed Children's Home (<- A SMALL VICTORIAN MANORESQUE HOUSE ALONG THE ROAD THAT WAS ONCE USED TO HOME "DISTURBED" YOUNG BOYS, GIRLS, AND ORPHANS. RIGHT NOW IT'S ABANDONED BUT IS IN GOVERNMENT CUSTODY SINCE IT WAS ONCE A GOVERNMENT FACILITY. IT IS CREEPY, BUT THE KIDS HAVE WARMED UP TO US WITH BRIBES OF CANDY AND SWEETS AND A GIFT OF TOYS LAST YEAR DURING CHRISTMAS. SO -DON'T PISS ME OFF- BECAUSE I HAVE A SPECTRAL HOUSEHOLD OF DISTURBED CHILDREN WHO ENJOY BEING DISTURBED AT MY DISPOSAL.) so we clipped several branches for eventual house decoration.

After that winter harvest we meandered through our usual walking route of: crossing the beech hedgerow over the stone wall, through the cow field, over another stone wall, getting high at the small ruined church, taking dubious pictures in the sort've abandoned walled garden behind it (NEXT TIME WE'LL STEAL THE CLAW, OLD FOLKS!), exiting the walled garden and following the path through to the road to the now old folks' home (once a much larger manor; the walled garden and ruined church is part of it), ambled down the road and out onto the street, turned the corner and entered the cemetery so we could make our offerings and visit our ancestors before returning home.

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Winter mist descending from the hills.

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Every year I love Scotland more and more.

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Ruined church across the cow field.

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There's only one cross on the building AND I WANT IT SO BAD.

This year in the field in front of the manor a farmer grew potatoes. (AND I WENT MENTAL WHEN I HAD THE SNEAKING SUSPICION WHAT THE CROP WAS; I CIRCLED THE STONE WALL MANIC, PACING BACK AND FORTH WHILE TRYING TO REMEMBER IF THOSE LEAVES AND STALKS AND PLANT MATERIAL LOOKED FAMILIAR TO ME AT ALL, SINCE I WAS A KID THE LAST TIME I WAS FACE-TO-FACE WITH A POTATO PLANT. THANKFULLY, SOMEONE UPROOTED A FEW PLANTS AND BABY POTATOES WERE STILL ATTACHED TO THE WITHERED STALKS. THEN, AS EXPECTED, I WENT EVEN MORE MENTAL - FRESH POTATO FREE-FOR-ALL!)

When the crop was confirmed we came back closer to harvest time, around six in the morning, and harvested a little for ourselves. (THERE WERE SO MANY HIGH-LIGHTS TO THIS YEAR, BUT ONE OF THEM - I MEAN, RIGHT UP THERE - IS SNEAKING INTO A FARMER'S FIELD IN THE EARLY AM AND FRANTICALLY DIGGING UP EARTH TO REVEAL A RICH TREASURE OF POTATOES WITH MY HUSBAND WHICH WERE SMUGGLED AWAY IN ENVIRONMENTALLY FRIENDLY GROCERY BAGS.)

Those potatoes? FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC. (Oh, we had them hashed, fried, dilled, roasted...) (<- You can officially add "potato thieves" to our list of criminal and moral offenses.)

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As if the treat of stolen potatoes wasn't enough I was very lucky to find Her. She had just been killed, and a pair of crows were keeping her company. By the time I was able to scoop her up she had only lost her eyes and there was a small hole in her thigh, but she was otherwise immaculate. And soft and pliable, but cold. I cradled this beautiful thing who had just lost her life in my arms, and took her home with me, later burying my face in fur and crying on the back step. (She was just so...real. I don't know, she felt like a pet, and I mourned her as if she was a pet.) She's in the freezer now - DON'T TELL MY IN-LAWS, THEY HAVE NO CLUE THAT I HAVE A WHOLE DEAD RABBIT AND CROW IN THE OUTSIDE FREEZER - because I wasn't sure how to preserve certain aspects of her body, so she's frozen until I'm more knowledgeable.

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I carried her over a mile; at first cradled in my arm like a sleeping pet, and then like contraband that had to be sneaked in the house least the parents find out. Her fur gleamed like gold in the rays of the rising sun, and she was the single more gorgeous thing I had seen in a long time. (It was so hard finally breaking the connection and wrapping her up in her plastic grocery bag death shroud before committing her to her freezer grave.)

RIGHT, OKAY, I AM RAMBLING WITH PICTORIAL EVIDENCE NOW, TIME TO GET BACK ON TRACK.

We kept our eyes out for a fallen piece of limb that we could use as our Yule Log. I had a feeling that we'd end up finding it along the long stretch of road from the manor/old folks' home to the street, and those ovary instincts were right. Just as we had stopped for a second to snap a few pictures of the potato field in winter I noticed THE PERFECT LOG. (We never found THE PERFECT STONER TREE, but with so many things going on this year we opted not to have one.)

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Barren potato field.

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Setting winter sun over the potato field.

Once home it got decorated with the evergreen and holly we had cut down, using some of my mother's (she died several years back, so the very few things I have of hers are super special and only get used for super special occasions) green embroidery thread I bound the branches to the log. We both found a part of the center piece on that walk; Italics found the gold star in the cemetery, and I can't remember where I found the spiral coil. (<- WHIRLPOOL ALERT.) (I have a sneaking suspicion that I might've found the coil at the ruined church...)

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The Yule Log sat in front of the altar on the sheepskin rug Italics was bundled in when he was younger. (LULZ, IF YOU CAN BELIEVE IT, IT TOOK UNTIL I APPROPRIATED THE SKIN BEFORE THE RUG GOT EXPOSED TO DRUGS AND SEX, AND, ON A FEW OCCASIONS, A COMBINATION OF BOTH.) The wooden crab is one of Italics's special pieces (it's one of his animals / symbols) and I often use it for incense burning. (You can't see it, but it has a carved out dip in the middle of the shell, so it perfectly holds my bowls of burning incense and also absorbs the emanating heat.)

I'm not entirely sure how to concisely explain the Black Rabbit thing. I'm governed by (and am part of) a female deity who's all about SEX, DEATH, DRUGS, VIOLENCE, WAR, FIGHTING, INEBRIATION, NIGHT, MAGIC - you know, ALL OF THE FUN STUFF THAT MAKES LIFE WORTHWHILE. She has different names in different cultures, but in this lifetime She came to me with a Russian heritage, with an entirely new name. "Black Rabbit" isn't her name, but it is Her. And to honor the Black Rabbit we bought five teal plastic rabbits from the gardening section of ASDA (that's the UK equivalent of Wal-mart) and spray-painted them black for ritual/altar use. There's a HEAD Black Rabbit - pictured above - who got a coating of gold glitter and was decorated with my Santa Muerte pendant and a strand of skull prayer beads.

(WHEN YOU'RE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF A LOT OF DIFFERENT INTOXICANTS THE SHADOWS OF THE RABBITS ON THE WALLS BECOME ELONGATED AND SHARP UNTIL THEY BECOME SILENT, IMPOSING JACKALS.)

The brass devil/imp fire poker was a gift from me to Italics this year. We're slowly getting more into ritually burning things (I like to burn any flowers or foliage used for magic or altar work, and the remains of vegetable and herb plants that were grown for special purposes) so we can incorporate the ash into the dirt that'll be used to grow even more vegetables, herbs, and flowers. After THE NIGHT OF HECATE experience (OH, LULZ, THAT NIGHT) I decided Italics probably needed something a little more swish than the METAL HANDLE OFF A BROKEN BADMINTON RACKET he was using to stoke the fire.

AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS THE STORY OF 2008'S YULE LOG. (WHICH STILL NEEDS TO BE BURNED. <- WE'LL GET AROUND TO IT...EVENTUALLY.)