Red Deer arrives early to the recreation area at Parker's Creek, knowing that several trips will be required to bring all their supplies down the long hike to where the creek enters the lake.  He stops at the station to once again assure that their backcountry plans will not be interrupted by unaware Park Rangers and leaves a large charcoal drawing of the full moon on the info board, before proceeding toward the last lot on the long and winding road through the area.  Around several sweeping curves, the road - which entered from a long bridge across the point to proceed towards the higher land - traverses each of the habitats which make up the peninsula.  In the lowest and constantly damp areas, a knot of does recently calved forage among the grasses interspersed between the burgeoning bloodroot, trillium and occasional skunk cabbage.  Somewhat higher over lake level, swaths of dogwood, ironwood and poplar -  where Deer knows that numerous fawns still spotted white conceal themselves in the scrub and underbrush along the forest edge, waiting for their mothers to return to cover - give way to stands of oak, maple and hickory.  And on the highest ridges stand pine barrens, where tree tops seem to sway in unison with the afternoon breeze.

   At the entrance to the last parking circle, Deer leaves another of the full moon signs before pulling into a space at the shaded by large pines at the northern end of the lot.  He quickly checks through the packs of supplies - altar accouterments, clan offerings, cakes and ale, torches, diggers, and more - before setting off of his first hike.  Myrlen, after communicating her dissatisfaction with being left to watch for any early comers, settles into the shade at the parking lot's edge and watches over the their truck.  Although the afternoon sun leaves leaves parking lot almost tropically hot even this early in the year, hiking under the pine barren canopy is far more comfortable. Deer's nostrils are filled with forest smells - the leaf mold on the forest floor returning to fully active life with the warmth of approaching summer, the intense scent of newly green pine needles, and the occasional aromas of late blooming jasmine and early honeysuckle.

   Encountering the occasional low ridge, covered with oak and maple, Deer is down right cool.  Climbing one, he spots a pair of raccoons grooming each other upon a low tree branch, and pauses to readjust the packs he carries.  "Good day, cousins, and a happy first moon of the light half to you!"  Both stop briefly to assess the man standing below them, then with almost casual nods return to their pleasure.  As Deer crosses the last ridge and begins down the hill toward the stretch of beach where Parker's Creek emerges from the wooded range of tall hills which mark the edge of the Cape Fear valley, he spies the old man - deep rust red with black hooves and already huge antlers still covered in their spring velvet.  Deer stops and drops to one knee, both hands palms up upon the other.  "Uncle," he whispers, "you honor me.  I hope that you and others of the clan will join us this eve."  The stag snorts and stares at Deer, before scratching an antler ferociously against the trunk of a young maple.  In the high shade, Deer's shadow briefly sports antlers of its own when the old man approaches him and nuzzles one of the packs.  Deer smiles and reaches into the pack for one of the small salt licks he's brought, then leaves it at the spot of their encounter. "Fair eve, uncle," he states - picking up both packs and continuing to the beach.

   A narrow strip of dry red clay is all that separates forest from lake.  Reaching it, Deer turns northeast and hikes to the mouth of the creek.  He hangs both packs on the boughs of a nearby oak before settling onto the wider spread of open beach beside the creek mouth.  Here the sun shines brightly, and Deer enjoys its warmth.  He meditates upon the Lord's role in this evenings festivities, and feels nearly electric impulses along the bottoms of his legs, his elbows and the back of his neck - wherever bare skin touches the Lady's fertile soil.  Deer scopes out his surroundings, mentally planning the layout of tonight's activity.  Circle in the elbow of beach where creek joins lake, with a low fire at its center and the pole on its southeastern side; fare for the feast upon the flat, table-like rocks several yards up the creek; and twin bonfires down the beach on the small sand bar which protrudes several yards out into the lake.  Having finished his mental preparations, Deer rises and begins to accomplish them physically.

   His first task is to listen for the call of this moon's maypole.  Wandering up the ridge from which Parker's Creek flows, Deer soon finds himself in a large thicket of southern hawthorn.   He is amazed with the thick fragrance of their profuse flowers, and soon comes upon a recently fallen trunk about twenty feet tall near the thicket's edge.  The tree is still green and must have been uprooted by the recent spring gusts.  Deftly, he cuts the trunk from its few intact roots, and proceeds to remove all of its branches - all the while murmuring an offering of thanks to the fallen tree and to its kin in the thicket.  Completing his work, Deer hefts the base of the now cleaned trunk up onto his left shoulder and begins the walk back to the creek mouth.  Once there, he lays the trunk aside and taking up the post hole diggers he'd used as a walking stick on the hike from the parking lot, Deer soon digs in the hard clay to about three feet deep. Then, returning his attentions to the hawthorn trunk, he square cuts the top, where he attaches a multitude of brightly colored cotton ribbons retrieved from one of his packs.  Special care he takes in attaching one of deepest midnight blue for Boudica, royal purple for sus, fiery blood red for himself and a rich gold for Owl - along with ribbons of every color of the rainbow, one for each dancer who will join the dance tonight.  Once done, Deer gently knots the ribbons in a bunch about the trunks midsection, the hefts its base into the hole he'd prepared.  After the clay - dampened with a bit of water from the creek - is tamped into place about the trunk, Deer steps back and notes that it is indeed true, then tests that it is well set for the night's dance.  He quickly digs a shallow pit for the ritual fire before moving down the beach and scooping out larger ones for the need fires.

   Aware that the afternoon shadows are lengthening, Deer hastily hikes back to the truck and retrieves the remaining two packs of supplies.  Although much remains to be done, he shoulders the packs slowly - then takes up the bundles of cattail torches - and determines to enjoy the hike back, knowing that with each elongation of the growing shadows, the entire wood changes from moment to moment.  Returning to the creek, Deer hangs these packs in the same oak.  Looking quickly through the brush, Deer retrieves several sprays of naturalized scots broom which he uses to sweep out the space about their fire and Maypole.  Then he takes each bundle of nine cattails and firmly plants them around the perimeter, in the spots where the clans will be called.  He'd searched long last year to find the tallest stand of cattails he could and was well pleased with the outcome, as these still stood head high after being planted in the soil.

   A stack of unfired terra-cotta bowls comes from the next pack, and Deer places one at the base of each torch.  A sealed container comes next from the pack and opening it Deer is momentarily intoxicated by the fragrance of its contents. Flowers for the clans, each representative of the element to which they are offered: an airy spray of fringetree, its heavy vanilla perfume for the bowl by the eastern torch; a head of white and crimson flame azalea, cinnamon crisp for the southern one; and exceptional fall of lavender wisteria indescribably sweet goes into the bowl by the western torch; and then the ground hugging white blooms from three wild white lilies in the northern one.  From the heaviest pack, Deer removes nine woods gathered from the woods about his home during the last dark of the moon and the cloth bundle with two undyed beeswax pillars and a fifth terra-cotta bowl.  The woods he places in their shallow pit, then stands the waist-high pillars due north and south of the pit.  He lays the offering bowl upon the ground opposite their Maypole and, after reaching deep into his pockets, places within six small items.  A rust mottled feather, a sundried cobalt blue tail, a pale white and razor sharp barb, and a small tuft of tawny hair go into the offering bowl, followed by two small carvings in the likeness of the Lord of the Deer and His Lady.  And finally, the piece de resistance...  a single Dragon Lily joins the other offerings in the altar bowl - with its cream white spathe resembling a foot long ear of silver queen corn and the surrounding petal a sail of deep purplish maroon.  As Deer places the blossom he can already feel the heat begin to emanate from it, for this odd flower calls its night blooming pollinators with a signature warmth generated from deep within its own heart.

   Happy with the circle's preparation, Deer turns his attention to the need fires.  While wood cutting is not allowed within the park, gathering of deadfall is.  Pine needles and last year's cones line the bottom of the sandy pits in the sandbar and Deer soon has both piled shoulder-high with trunks and limbs collected from the surrounding area.  Just as the task is finished, Deer hears the distinct yips of his little Aussie over the ruddy black waters of the lake, and hurries back to the parking lot to greet the first arrivals...

   Back at the parking lot, Deer finds Myrlen friskily playing with the first comers to their fete.  Joining the impromptu romps and hugs, he asks that all wait for the entire group before they begin the long hike.  By the time the last arrivals come, the long evening shadows have merged into night's darkness.  Deer removes another large bundle of cattail torches from the truck, passes one to each of the group and then helps each with a light.   The entire group then proceed single file - with a solemn hush which stands in stark contrast to the coming revelry - over the same path Deer has already trodden several times this day.  Some of the group of friends are a bit bemused upon their arrival to the sight, as the moon is not yet up and, in the darkness, none of Deer's preparations are evident.  Leaving them at the wood's edge, Deer moves out to the sandbar and buries his own torch first in one fire pit and then the other.  As the flames leap skyward, the entire expanse of beach is illuminated - all the way to the flat rocks behind the creek mouth, several of which Deer earlier covered with unbleached cotton throws.  The group complete their preparations - leaving dishes and drink upon the stone tables and changing into whatever ritual clothing they may - or may not - wear for the evening, just as the full moon peeks above the dark peninsula limning the lakes eastern shore.  Deer moves among the group of friends with Myrlen close at his side, and again greets and hugs each warmly in welcome.  As the moon lifts herself entirely above their horizon, all move into the space swept and outlined for their circle.

   Once all have prepared, and entered the circle limned for tonight's festivities, Deer begins their rite.  He takes up a small doeskin pouch of coarsely ground salt from its resting place near the altar bowl and, passing beyond those gathered round, moves deosil about the circle lightly sprinkling the ground over which he treads.  "By the earth's salt - purifying, grounding, connecting - this circle is cast.  Limned in salt, it becomes a place which is all and none, a time which flows ever round itself."  Sensing that the veil is rightly rearranged about their gathering, Deer returns to the altar bowl and hefts another skin filled with water from the creek beside them.  "By the body's water - rising, falling, cycling - this circle is raised.   Flowing with water, it becomes a place in which all are connected and none lack awareness of their interrelatedness with creation."  Again, sensing that the desired energies pass between all assembled Deer returns to the altar bowl.  This time, he retrieves and lights a small taper which has previously been burnt - a taper lit from the flames of Bride, a flame which carries the history of rites new every year, yet millennia old. And making his final deosil turn about the group, Deer lights each of the cattail torches in turn.  "By the heart's fire - warming, consuming, creating - this circle is sealed.  Dancing with flame, it becomes a place in which the mundane is easily shed and magic runs amok."  Knowing that soon these flames will illuminate the ones who come to call the clans - Falcon, Skink, Mudcat and Bobcat - Deer feels flowing in and about the surrounding forest, eager to join in the ebb and flow of this enactment when invited, he takes his place at the southern point of the circle and watches, waiting for Anais to offer the first call...


   ...Anais had arrived between day and night. Approaching the sacred space she found her senses each heightened by the mix of fragrant flowers and musky forest. All in the wood sensed the full moon yet to rise, but already drawing up the mists in the air.

   She greets those already present. Everyone whispers, enchanted by the beautiful a space Red Deer had chosen. Anais leaves her heavy pack the East. Precisely at moonrise, she approaches the shimmering shoreline and, wading into the water, and brings handfls up to her face three times; then her hair, three times, then over her arms, three times... wanting just to dive right in. "Stay," she thinks to herself, "perhaps later, to cool the leap.

   Now prepared, Anais enters the circle and moves to the east for her call the Falcon Clan. She walks up to the alter and places on it an Oud wood carving of a falcon.

   "You of desert and prairie, where strong wings and keen eye have domain. Surveyor of Skies, Guardian, Messenger, Hunter. Rise and remember us. Hear our voices on the winds. Please honor us and ward the high places this night. In this place lovingly prepared and guarded for you. Honored and welcomed here are you, on this first full moon of the light half."

   Anais begins to feel the clan's presence as the winds rise a bit rustling new leaves on the trees into a song like winged flight. Sounds echo around us, growing more pronounced... then, in the distance, an unmistakable sound, echoing as over a canyon, filling our ears and our hearts. All looking to the sky observe crossing the moon a silhouette... Sky Warrior... Anais feels her own heart beat, then those of each gathered... "I see you friend and my spirit soars with you this night." Gently, Anais and those in the circle feel their own wings embrace the spirit of the falcon clan.

   Moving slowly back into her place in the circle, Anais recognizes that the heart of the falcon also beats within her breast. Waiting for the next call...

   ...Jess arrived at the lot and turned off her little car. The poor Ghia had the worst time climbing the hills but they both made it. She welcomed the cool of the forest and relished the breeze as it dries the sweat from her body. Standing at the circle's edge, she watched Red Deer cast the circle, completing it with Bride's Flame. Anais's call to Falcon stirred another breeze in the already cool evening air. Then, brought back to the present, Jess realizes they are awaiting her call.

   Stepping forward, her electric blue skirt rustles over bare feet. She breathes deeply and reaches for stillness.

   "Be silent. Be still as death. Be quick! Disappear! We call to you, who dwell in the underbrush. The Skink is fast, seen in the corner of the eye. Then it is motionless, a statue. While Falcon sends the view from above, you help us see what is hidden on the forest floor. The view from the ground may not be as heady, but it is full of mystery, life, and green things growing."

   Jess places a gnarled grape-vine branch by the azaleas. The hollow wood teems with a colony of ants.

   "Accept this offering, blue-one. Help us to find the still point."

   Jess moves back to her place, brushing a stray ant from her hand, and watches...


   ...breathing deep of the knee-weakening sweetness of the honeysuckle, suz smiles at the friends gathered in this sacred place.  she moves over the rich red clay to where the circle touches the quiet water.  Feeling her bare toes sink into the mud, she moves in until her ankles are covered...
ground and center.  three deep breaths, and the Self moves out and slips easily into the water.  ahhhh.......different from the rambunctious energy of the atlantic, and yet still so very familiar.  so dark and silky.  reeds and rocks, not seen but felt, slip by in the velvet depths.  where are they, the silent and unseen bottom dwellers, the ones who move like dreams through the silt and the softness at the floor of the lake?

   there, moving with smooth powerful ease, he comes.  don't go too close... this is not a warm tabby to stroke and make free with.  unfathomable as the lake itself, he glides to a halt near a mossy boulder and waits.  Self curtseys deeply to the old one, a reverence which goes unacknowledged but not ignored.  no color can be seen in these depths, but there is a hint, a mere thought, of iridescence in the dark, a flash of blue or green, mottled or flecked, dappled, among the feel of brown and earthy gray.

   back in her body at the lake's edge, suz reaches into a muslin bag at her waist and removes double handfuls of dried corn, corn harvested from the fields around the farm last fall, some from the cobs which adorned her own farm at samhain.  "we thank you for being with us on this magickal evening, old one.  accept our offerings, and celebrate with us."

   the corn makes musical plinks as it scatters over the surface of the lake.  after a few moments, a ripple can be seen on the surface.  no leaping dance, this one's revelry is not such.  but all of us gathered in the circle know that the offering has been accepted.

   as suz rejoins her friends she asks them, "my dears... what moves strong and deep beneath the surface of yourSelves?  what is it that cleanses the murk and detritus of mundania from your souls?"

   taking a deep breath, she awaits...


   ...Boudica stands in center of the circle dressed in her favorite dark blue ress with small silver stars embroidered all over it.  She stands and listens for a few minutes.  The small owl that travels on her shoulder takes off to the air at the call from the woods.  He alights on a branch above the circle and looks down on the gathering. She knows the bobcat will not join the circle proper, but he will stay and wait and watch.  He is the forest protector, the one who will watch and protect. She faces north, and starts:


  "Join us, Ancient One of the North, who comes to us this evening as the most respected Bobcat Clan.  Welcome, be at peace with us and join us as we celebrate this Beltane Moon.  The earth is bursting with life, the grasses are green the flowers are blooming and the earth prepares to ripen and come to fruit in a few months.  This night we great the Great Mother.  We ask you to guard our forest this evening at our celebration."

   Boudica takes something out of a pouch hanging from her belt.  Its red and bloody and raw and she walks to the north of the circle.  She tosses it out beyond the circle, and there is a rustle in the bushes just beyond.  There is a call again, and a low growl, and then the rustling settles down.  If you look real carefully, you could see two eyes reflecting the light just beyond the circle.

   Boudica bows to the North, and whispers a thank you to the Guardian who will stand and protect for the entire time we will be here.  She returns to her place in the circle.  Just before she turns and faces the assembly, she looks to the air, and to her owl, who has not returned to her shoulder. Seems the owl has a mind of his own this evening and she reaches into her pouch again, and tosses him a nice piece of bloody meat.  He takes off from his perch, and catches it and flies to her shoulder, gobbling down the piece as he alights. Boudica takes her place, giggling, and turns to await...


   ...From his place near the Skink Clan's dancing torch flames, Deer looks directly across their circle to where Owl stood before those of Bobcat Clan.  He smiles a question of readiness to her then, in response to her nod, begins to spiral deosil inward toward the firepit and the unlit pillars at their circle's center.  Three turns of their circle he takes: on the first briefly touching hands with each of those gathered in circle; the second attending to the feel of the dry earth against his feet; and the third, focusing upon the woman who moves in a similar spiral opposite him.  In his left hand, Deer holds fast the amber he always wears and in his right, a small cattail torch.  By the dancing light from the ring of torches, which that in his hand leaps in rhythm to, Deer's shadow seems to merge back and forth between that of a man and that of a stag - finally solidifying into that of an antlered man as he stops before the beeswax pillar planted on the southern side of the fire pit and looks across at Owl.  Again at her nod of readiness, Deer slowly lowers his torch into the pit of nine woods, knowing instinctively that she would do the same.  As the fire begins to catch, Deer calls out:

   "Lord of the Hunt, Master of the Greenwood, Horned Father - I recognize Your sovereignty over this rite.  Come among us in all Your splendor.  Bless this circle that Your Lady may feel safe in joining it as well.  Tonight we celebrate the first moon during the solar half of the year.  Tonight, we dance and weave the magics of fertility and its consequences.  Tonight we pass between and jump high over the need fires which burn even now in a place which is between the land and the water."  Deer's concentration is momentarily broken by an intense bugle from the wood's edge, where he spies the old man standing, watching their group with some amusement.  Returning to his call, Deer extorts him, "You who have fathered, found and taught me - bestow upon this group of friends Your Blessings."  Again the bugle from the woods draws Deer's attention and again he looks to the old man, this time thinking he sees many more pair of eyes gathered about him shining in the night.  With the old man's final call, Deer removes his torch from the fire and lights the pillar before him, "I invoke and invite You, be here now!" Deer calls, then waits and watches Owl...

   ...who had stood at the North, in the flickering shadows cast by the flaming cattails of Bobcat Clan. Across the Circle she watched as the familiar smile of her brother let her know he was ready to once again dance between the worlds. She nodded to let him know she was ready to journey on the ageless path as they had done before, and would do so again .. through many lives. As Red Deer had begun to spiral deosil, Owl began her journey widdershins. Greeting each who stood in Circle as she passed... a smile here, a quick clasp of hands with this one, a soft stroke to the cheek of another... once around the circle. Then again, drawing into herself, gathering her thoughts, her focus on the Ritual itself... getting ready for that joining which is so welcome... preparing for the Deities. Twice around the Circle. Then raising her eyes and seeking out dear Deer, she grins .. Thrice around the Circle .. this time focused on Red Deer as he stepped lightly in and out of the shadows between the quarter flames. Their steps slowed, and matched in sequence. There had been a hint of the hunt... stalker, and stalked... danger... and a hint of the pursuit... male to female... female to male... excitement... coming to balance... quickening of the senses... primal, yet fine tuned.

   Then a glint of firelight trapped in the amber held in Red Deer's hand seemed to wink at her, as the torch in his other hand flared with unseen encouragement. The blue amulet on her breast flashed back... fire and ice... as the flame of her own torch leaped higher with each step. In the shadows, she had seen the stag slowly prancing, only to once again become the familiar, well loved form of Red Deer as he stepped into the light of the torches. Her own shadow changed as she moved around the Circle. The soft folds of her cloak swirl out, and one would think there were wings unfolding as she steps between the light and shadows. The circlet on her brow caught the light, and one could see the sharp beak, and the bright eyes peering out from feathered visage of Owl.

   Now returned to the North, her hood falls back, and a feathered head emerges. Huge dark eyes gaze fixedly at the man with antlers proudly displayed. At her nod of readiness, Deer slowly lowers his torch into the pit of nine woods, as she does the same. As the fire burns higher, Owl calls out:

   "Lady of the Greenwood, Rider of the Winds, Warmth of the Homefires, Queen of the Seas - I recognize Your sovereignty over this rite. Come among us in all Your splendor. Bless this circle that Your Lord may feel welcomed joining it as well. Tonight we celebrate the first moon during the solar half of the year. Tonight, we dance and weave the magics of fertility and its consequences. Tonight we pass between and jump high over the need fires which burn even now in a place which is between the land and the water." A soft "Hoot" is heard from the depths of the forest, and swiftly, a great horned owl glides above the circle, crossing from North to South, and settling on the limb of an old oak tree. Her head rotates as her gaze falls on each in the Circle, as if to say, "OK, now you have my attention!" Returning to her call, Owl continues... "You who have called me, succored, and taught me - bestow upon this group of friends Your Blessings." Again a soft "hoot" is heard from the woods... Owl removes her torch from the fire and lights the pillar before her, "I invoke and invite You, be here now!" Owl calls.

   As the familiar tingle spreads through her being, Owl looks directly into the eyes of Red Deer. Seeing his grin, she knows he too is feeling the surge of energy and joy which fills them both. As one, they raise their arms, palms up, to catch the moonlight, and then they send the energies radiating within to each and everyone standing in Sacred Space. Owl starts the chant... and all voices join in...

   "Above as below
   Within as without
   Cast the Circle thrice about.
   Me to you, You to me
   May this Circle Blessed Be"

   Three times the chant is called, as each concentrates on receiving, and passing on the energies now swirling through the Sacred Space. Taking in that which is freely given... adding to it... merging your essence... then passing on to another... again, freely given, freely taken, and passed on... as the circle of life continues... at the Beltane time. A deep breath... a smile to all... a wink to Red Deer... and Owl waits...


   ...while Deer stands - palms up - transfixed. Not until the completion of this ingathering had the awesome beauty of all their calls and invocations sunk in fully; the immense power of what these friends and siblings have wrought paralyzes him. Now, he can do little more that stare - slack jawed - into the dancing flames before him. As he watches, Deer begins to realize that he sees not only the rhythmic movement of nine woods burning, but flames of the twin beeswax pillars and the four cattail torches as well. Gifted with eyes which see not only before, but behind, beside, above, below, and within... Deer spies the shadowy forms slowly coalescing above the offering bowl: wraiths with the features of Falcon, Skink, Mudcat and Bobcat who slowly yet deftly spiral out among the circle passing about and through each of the solid ones there gathered.

    Then, with a start, Deer regains himself and knows that their time has come. A gravid moon dances upon the high clouds above them. Clan spirits - called and well appeased - flow about and through the circle. Spiraling energies - which demonstrate the steadfast presence of Lord and Lady - reflect in the countless eyes gathered, within or without their circle he realizes all occupy sacred space. Deer lowers his hands and speaks with a voice which comes through and yet not from him: "With salt this circle was limned, with water raised and fire sealed. With the spirit which underlies all matter, the Clans - answering such sweetly beautiful yet powerful calls - infused this circle. With love Lord and Lady responded to recreate Their Cosmos here within this rite. Let each who would address this unity of the five sacred things come forward, whether for praise, thanks or supplication."

   Having spoken, Deer returns his attention his sister standing across the fire and for some unclear reason whispers "A breath between us could be miles," before falling back into silent reflection upon all which has transpired thus far, while waiting for the first petitioner...


   ...Owl hears the whisper .. and smiles back .. "and a touch between us crosses leagues" Raising her right hand, palm facing Deer, she whispers .. "you are my altar" .. and knows he feels the touch tho they stand apart. With a wink, Owl looks around the Circle waiting for the first petitioner...


   ...DreamDancer brings himself back a bit from feeling the intense power that has been raised here. He walks to the center of the gathering and stares intently into the flames for a moment before glancing around him at the friends and family here gathered. With a bit of suprise, DreamDancer realizes that he has not opened his eyes, but is seeing the kindred ones gathered here through the eyes of spirit, and he smiles.

   "Lord and Lady, my wish for this day is a simple one. At this time of spring, of new life, of faeries and magick, let all gathered here know the simple pleasures of dance. Let them never feel they are not good enough, and let them know that they dance not only for others, but for themselves and for you. Let them feel the spirit and the fun, the freedom that can be found by just letting go and feeling the rythms that surround them."

   DreamDancer pauses, then stretches out his arms, and while not moving from his spot, draws all gathered into a close embrace through Spirit. He then reurns to his place to await the next petitioner...


   ...Jess feels the hair on her arms raise with the power gathered in the circle. It's almost too beautiful to disturb but... She steps to the bonfire and throws a handful of fresh thyme and lavender from her postage-stamp garden. As the fragrant smoke wafts skyward she says:

   "Lady and Lord, thank you for my continued health and for the fact that I didn't need surgery. Thank you for my wonderful friends near and far who sent me so much positive energy. To the muses and the gods of music, thank you for my voice and the ability to express myself through music. It brings me delight beyond expression. "And, finally, thank you for my mother's health. You sent her a wake up call. Help me and help her be well."

   Tossing another handful of herbs on the fire, Jess steps back. On the Maypole, she spies a crimson ribbon hanging at just the right height. Her fingers itch to grab it as she watches...

   ...Seeing no others ready to come forward, Deer grins at his sister across the fire.  "A great family we are, though not all choose to come forward to speak.  May the needs of all, spoken or not this moon, be brought near to our Father and Mother, and answered as is Their will."  Having spoken, Deer carefully takes up the terracotta offering bowl and gently lays it among the flames.  "Nine woods gathered," he begins, then trails off to a whisper not audible to the remainder of those gathered about.  He then uproots the beeswax pillar before him, not watching to see but knowing never-the-less that Owl will follow suit, and slowly feeds it to the flames.  The large amount of wax melting into the fire pit makes the flames there leap to their greatest height yet, golden and crimson tongues licking at the surrounding darkness.

    As all gathered about watch and listen, the flames begin what seems a rhythmic dance of their own.  In the dark warmth of an early southern summer eve, the beat of forest drummers' emerge...   crickets chirp, tree frogs ribbet, cicadas - off their seventeen year cycle but present none the less - flutter wings which rival the best children's noisemakers.  Percussive sounds weave about each other, blending individual call with individual call, and species song with species song - building to the riotous heartbeat that is the song of life in the embrace of the warm darkness.  Through his bare feet, Deer is clearly aware that this song is not formed of itself, but is the reflection, the amplification of that singular beat which rises from the earth beneath them.  He begins to sway, then reaches high up the hawthorn pole planted by their fire and undoes the knot of ribbons tied about it.  Passing the blood red and gold cords to Owl, Deer moves about the circle placing a ribbon in the hand of each celebrant their gathered.  As the group tighten their circle about the Maypole, and face off - half to dance deosil and half widdershins - Deer takes his blood red cord from Owl and moves to his place by the cattail torch on the southern limn of their circle, several feet outside the group of dancers ready to begin their weaving.  Seeing Owl positioned similarly in the north, Deer strikes the ground thrice with his heel and calls for the dance to begin.

   Each of the celebrants, finding the heartbeat of mother earth, begins their own steps in this stately dance.  All circle, weaving in and then out of the opposing circle of dancers.  Yet Deer stands, observing the many colors which seem to float through the night and the beautiful pattern being woven about the hawthorn trunk.  Then, in the wink of an eye, he moves as well...   but not as one with either of the circles turning to and fro before him.  A separate pattern he weaves, eyes always focused on she whom he pursues, she who pursues him.  Hither and back - often on opposite sides of the group dancing between them, sometimes darting between dancers and almost approaching each other before stepping back to the outer limits of that tightening circle, Deer finds himself at more than a dance...  more than a hunt...  more than a chase...  And, as his mind's eye moves away from a focus and into the gestalt of what they do here, Deer *knows* that such was the primal Dance engaged in by Lady and Lord eons before this cosmos was born.  A chase.  A hunt.  A dance to rhythms even older that They two.  As the circle tightens and the weaving shifts down the hawthorn, Deer's perception shifts.  Vast darkness surrounds a dome of shimmering light.  The world tree, circled by the polar energies, upholds its peak.  And over the tree is woven a pattern of the dance - a pattern of all that is to follow.  Rather like a tapestry which viewed from without holds a richness of multicolored threads in a pattern which is simple yet ineffable; but when viewed from within becomes the essence of all creation.

   Around and around Deer spirals holding tightly to his length of red blood, his intent still upon she who moves with flashes of gold.  In and out;  pursuer and pursued;  predator and prey... Momentarily gone from his head all thought of those among and through whose weavings he glimpses her...  Yet even as they fade from his perception, each dancer weaves a cosmic thread of their own...

   ...Owl watches and waits as the dance begins. Seeing Red Deer across the circle of dancers, motionless as the inner circle begins to weave, she thinks about the patterns of life. Some of the dancers concentrate, knowing the steps, carefully creating the weave in order... others, unsure, stumbling a bit, stepping tentatively forward, only to find themselves tangled as others pass by and try to push them in the right direction as they weave their ribbons up, down, stepping right, then left... bending, bobbing... getting snarled together... and then continuing as the flow of bodies and colors whirl around the pole. "Just like life", Owl thinks... there are times when we follow the patterns, and there are times when we mess them up. Sometimes we have to deal with the knots made by others, and go on. Sometimes we have to take a moment to straighten them out before we can. Yet the flow continues. Not always perfect... not always smooth... but with friendship, and caring... the common bonds do weave together.

    Deer begins to weave within and without .. as Owl darts above and below the the living threads. The warp of the weave needs the woof to hold it together. Sometimes, she can see Deer clearly... other times, she knows his presence only by the flash of blood red ribboning. Watching for him, and being mindful of the threads held by the others, she dances above and below... within and without... sometimes helping to unknot, and sometimes creating a tangled web, laughing and flirting as the colorful streamers create patterns bright and new... yet older than time, ageless weavings. Suddenly Deer is before her... she reaches out to grasp his hand... but he is gone in a twinkling... hidden in the forest of ribbons... She catches a glimpse of his grinning face as he makes his way towards her again. She dips beneath the strands, tickling a rib, and grinning mischieviously at the dancers, she hides until she sees Deer pass by, then she takes up the chase... knowing he's watching for her, and giggling as he unexpectedly turns and almost catches her... now she is on the run... hiding, weaving, teasing. The game of hide and seek... the first game a child learns... "Peek a BOO!"... "I see YOU!"... that thrill of being recognized, of being important to someone... and learning to focus on someone other than oneself.

   Simple joy... remembering to play with each other... and as the ribbons wind tighter around the Pole, the circle becomes smaller until we are all tied together in laughter and community. Deer and Owl find themselves at the end of their ropes... the others have wound themselves tight to the Pole. Deer and Owl complete their circle... deosil, widdershins... binding all with the Gold and Blood Red Ribbons as the God and Goddess bind us all to their hearts.

   "We who dance with you... and We who dance around you... and We who dance within your hearts... celebrate the love of humankind. May your lives be fruitful. May you find joy and balance. May your colors be bright, and your entanglements be interesting. When you encounter knots in your life patterns, may you have friends in abundance to help you reweave the fabric. May you have joy, and love, and magick every day. May you learn the steps of the dance as you leave this place, so that you walk with music and light hearts through all the days of your life."

    Owl reaches thru the wall of bodies closely surrounding the Pole, to grasp the hands of her dear Deer. Together they weave the ends of the Red and Gold ribbons... binding all together with fragile threads of love and respect. Can these ties be broken? Oh yes... easily... but the strength of our hearts will keep them secure til the next time we meet... and dance the celebration of life. Owl grins at the Deer... and waits...


   ... Nym, enchanted by the splendor and power created here, picks up her ribbon, the color of midnight, and joins the dance.  The blending of intensity and peace are intoxicating...


   ...Boudica takes her deep blue ribbon and weaves in and out of the dance, thinking on what has occurred to herself and the people she has come to think of as family also. What started so many years ago, a simple chat, a few names, and recognition of something special, has become a community.  So wonderful to watch it grow.  So happy to see it bond and blend and like all the ribbons on the May Pole, it has tied many lives together in a loving bond.

   She dances around, bumping, jumping, darting in and out of the ribbons and people gathered.  Laughter is their music, and it makes all differences and problems melt away...


   ...As the dance had wound faster and faster - due largely to the rapidly decreasing lengths of their ribbons which successively diminished the radius of their turns, but also to the rising excitement of building toward a final release - Deer watched Owl's last few turns toward completing the pattern. Then, leaning in and also reaching around the collection of bodies brought up fast to their Maypole, he felt the familiar, sublime and yet explosive jolt of contact among the energies they had woven.

   Again his eyes returned to the weaving about their tree, and Deer saw what Owl had - the beautiful pattern, its complexity repleat with the many errors small and large which make each of us human, and all of us a human family.  And beyond that, mingled among the reds, purples and blues and the myriad other colors here woven, Deer perceived that which binds all together - the brilliant gold of the Goddess and blood red of the Lord.  These two colors now leapt out at him, by turns in chase and embrace. And always, whether together supporting the family's weaving or moving apart to reinforce the work of this individual or that, they served to permeate and to amplify all of the glorious pattern.  Teasing and supporting...  offering pain and passion...   ingathering and climax...  The conception and birth of life after life, cosmos after cosmos - all divine, all sacred, all ultimately offspring of that first carnal dance.

    Deer grins back at Owl, and then releases her hands.  As all present slowly collect themselves and return to their places at the perimeter of their sacred space, Deer continues to stand in awe of what they have woven.  At this moment, his greatest hope is that all those who stand about him see, as he does, the ultimate recursion of this circle, this dance, this weaving, into all those which have gone before and all those which will follow.  Then, facing the now shallow dance of flames in the central fire, Deer states,

   "As before, so again. 
   As above, so below. 
   As without, so within."

   He raises arms high into the night sky and thanks each of the clans in turn, before finally addressing gratitude to the Lord of the Hunt and the Lady of Owls for their presences.  "All you who have watched over and participated within this rite, I greatly thank.  We are magnified by your presence.  Stay if your will, or go your merry ways if you must - for now we shall pass between and over the need fires lit at the cusp of land and water.  And then shall we feast.  Our circle is open but unbroken.  So mote it ever be!"

   Deer moves through the group, exchanging clasps and hugs and an occasional kiss and inviting everyone to the fires at the shore.  Then, catching Myrlen's eye, Deer quick as his namesake is at the sand bar.  Wild with the yet ungrounded energies wielded in their ritual, he sees the continued dance of the two fires there.  Through the progression of the evening, the large trunks there have burnt into huge mounds of blazing coals from which heat surpassing the southern noon day sun now radiates. And the flames - no longer ferocious tongues grasping meters up into the night sky, but now graceful dancers moving more with the rhythms of earth and night, often reminiscent in form and size of those here gathered - demonstrate a grace that might be elves swaying in time with the ethereal harps of Avalon - at once fierce and tender.  Assuring that all from the rite have approached this space, Deer passes with Myrlen between the fire pits.  Feeling the heat from both sides, he circles and then leaps, first toward land over the leward fire and then toward water over the winward.  Hearing the faithful Aussie close behind him, feeling the still scortching energy of the fires, and smelling the faint singe of hair brought too close to so intense a source of heat, Deer immediately plunges into the cool waters of the lake.  Bobbing about on his back as Myrlen jumps ferociously about biting at the small waves he generates, Deer watches as the others come upon the flames.

   He sees that some choose only to pass between, while others leap as had he and Myrlen.  Regardless of their path, however, all find purification and renewed fertility - whether of mind, heart or body - in this passage.  Bodies covered with the black of night - a black plucked from the very heart of the fire - join them in the refreshing water which, in its flow through the Cape Fear Basin, unites the Appalachians with the Atlantic. When all have passed, Deer and Myrlen emerge with their friends from the water and all make their way to the stone tables set before their rite with the evening's feast, and quickly fall into the work of sating appetites whetted by their encounters in circle and on the sand bar.  And so it goes, under the watchful eyes from the wood...  Stag and Owl ever out of sight, ever overseeing, until the pale moon descends toward the western horizon.