The end of summer in DC is usually hot and humid. Still, the Labor Day weekend had a touch of fall in the air. It won't drop below fifty at night until well into September, but we know fall is almost here.

The National Arboretum is an overlooked jewel in the nation's capital. Nestled in a lower-income section of the city, it spans almost four hundred fifty acres and varies from sculpted gardens to pine groves to lush fern valleys. There are four houses full of bonsais: little, three hundred year old trees like small forests. It is surprisingly quiet and serene here. The traffic from New York Avenue, one of the main arteries into the city, seems very far away.

Jess parks in the Visitor's Center parking lot. She walks past the koi-filled water garden and heads to her favorite section: The National Herb Garden (did you know we have a national herb garden?). She walks past the Victorian Knot Garden and the heavenly-scented Rose Garden. Roses bloom here in DC until October.

The Herb Garden is semi-circular and sectioned by usage: Diogenes' garden, dyes, culinary, beverage, colonial, native american, medicinal. Visitors are encouraged to touch and smell the plants: lavendar, mint, hops (Jess bows with reverence), scotch broom, heather, even the ordinary dandelion and burdock.

The Capitol Columns are across a meadow from the Herb Garden. Twenty-two sandstone columns stand atop a small rise. These columns originally supported the Capitol Dome until the nineteen fifty's. The structure resembles an Athenian temple. Flagstones from the Capitol form the floor. A fountain runs from a circular spout at the top, down a sloped channel, into a reflecting pool.

Jess turns from the columns to survey the surroundings. Few tourists make it out here, but there are people wandering the grounds. Families and tour groups walk or drive from garden to garden. Will they notice the cluster soon to gather on the little hill?

Jess returns to her car to retrieve her bag of supplies. Others appear, bearing food, drink, and blankets. The fountain becomes an altar: Two candles (purple and white), loops of grape vine, a cauldron with burning charcoal and smoking incense, chalice of wine. Instruments are laid out: drums, flutes, guitars, things that bang and twang and trill.

This will be an afternoon ritual, since the Arboretum closes at dusk. While the trees may not mind us hanging around, the USDA might not be too happy. Those who wish can return this evening for the full moon tour (there really is one). With a ring of a small bell, Jess calls the participants to the temple.

Players retrieve their instruments and begin a soft tune with a steady pulse. It's just right for those making their way to the top of the small rise: Step...Step...Step.

The participants have all gathered in the collonade. Jess places a sprig each of thyme and oregano in the cauldron. As the smoke curls up she intones:

Of Pallas Athena, luminous goddess I begin to sing: owl-eyed, rich in wisdom, her heart unyielding; a virgin she is, modest, the protectress of the city, mighty one; Tritogenê, she was born by Zeus, the all-wise. From his great head she emerged, bearing weapons, gold were they, and shining; all the immortals appraised her with respect. The goddess stood before Zeus, holder of the aigis, swiftly leaping from his enormous skull. She brandished the pointy spear in her hand; Olympos shook greatly as if fearful of the powerful owl-eyed one; Gaia released a piercing cry; Pontos moved violently, raising dark, ominous waves, releasing a burst of spray against the land. The bright son of Hyperion stood his stallions, waiting long for Her; to undress of the divine armor from her immortal shoulders. Pallas Athena! Zeus, the all-wise laughed. So I hail you goddess, daughter of Zeus, the aigis-holder With this my song ends, but I will always remember to sing to you.

The music swells as Jess throws another handful of herbs into the cauldron. She picks up the pitcher of spring water and pours some on the ground, and then into the running fountain:

"May our visions be as clear as this water, and as refreshing!"

Turning back to the assemblage, Jess waits for the spirits of Bacchus to be called...

...When the music returns to the slow, steady tune, Jess uncorks the flask of red wine. Pouring the wine into the chalice, she says:

"Hail, Dionysus, King of the Vines! Bring joy to our songs and slurs to our rhymes! Over dalliances, let us linger then rend the hero with frenzied fingers! Twice-born God, drink and say the sooth For all men know, in wine there is truth!"

Jess takes a drink from the glass and pours some out of the bottle onto the ground. Looking around quickly for park personnel, Jess pours an ounce or two into the fountain. It runs down the stream in a dark, purple line to mix with the water in the pool.

"May we remove the inhibitions that block us from achieving our goals."

Again, Jess turns to the assemblage and waits for inspiration to strike...

...Rosemary climbs the bank to the Columns, Purple DeelieBoppers bouncing on her head, wearing a Red Skelton "Freddie the Freeloader" coat, Clown feet and in her hands a Bladder. She strides to the center of the Circle and yells, "Take my Comedy, PLEASE!" She runs around the outside of the Circle, bopping one and all on the head with the bladder and comes to the center of the Circle.

   "Thalia of the Muses,
   Goddess of Comedy, Lady of Laughter,
   we invoke you this afternoon.
   Come to us, stay with us, play with us
   when the situation is right, and love us.
   Enable us to know the difference between serious and pompous,
   important and inconsequential,
   reverent and pissy pagan.
   Help us to enjoy our religion while taking our vows seriously.
   Give us both mirthand reverence this day
   for all to enjoy and ponder."

Rosemary leaves the Bladder and the DeelieBoppers at the foot of the altar, makes her way to her seat, and joins the rest of the group, giggling a little as she overbalances while seating herself.

...Morgan steps forward and offers her ode to the Muse of song.

   "Hail, Terpsichore, mother of song,
   Without whom we would have no sing-alongs;
   The world would be a silent, lonely place,
   Without the inspiration you give us from your grace.
   And so, to you, I dedicate this rhyme,
   Thank you, sweet lady, for the joy and beauty You give us in our time..."

..DreamDancer taps thoughtfully on his drums. He closes his eyes, centers, and hears his own calls to the Muses bubbling to the surface. He stands up, moves to the altar, and takes the chalice of wine.

   "Hail Erato, Muse of the Heart
   Aid in to bring forth in words, our feelings of love
   May you tie us together, never to part
   And guide our spirits as they soar forth together,
   as on the wings of a dove."

DreamDancer drinks deeply from the glass, then, "Wait, I ain't done yet:"

   "Hail to thee, Euterpe the bright
   Sounds of music drifting aloft in the night
   Inspire us to drum, guitar, sitar, and gong
   Help us celebrate life, through your gift of song!"

Drinking again, he turns back to the altar and replaces the chalice. He returns to his place to a smattering of applause...

...Windwalker runs late to the steps and nods at Jess hoping she doesn't mind her calling this muse. The spirit moved her this morning as Clio has been on her mind the past few days after reading about her. Then winking at Jess, Windwalker lights a piece of parchment which holds all the deeds of man for which she is sorry and hopes that the guilt of association goes up with the smoke of the parchment. She wants mankind not to repeat history, so she honors Clio. It seems that she has inspired Windwalker to more than bad poetry so WindWalker raises her arms to the waning moonlight and calls:

   "The moonlight shines bright on the face of my muse,
   I sit and I watch at the path that I choose.
   For the roads have been many for mankind in time,
   As Clio enlightend , while weaving her line.
   The web is spun deftly , both forward and back,
   Knowing it's secrets most mankind does lack.
   For the future and past are both present to see,
   If only I seek the wisdom of Clio in me.
   Her wisdom is fluid as paths open and close,
   As I sit and I watch on this path I now chose..."

...Stepping forward in hopes that Urania will show her what the stars hold, guide her to answers to the many questions plaguing her and show her the path she needs to take... Nym' looks to the sky and wonders. Why have the stars made her path so hard of late?

   "Daughter of Zeus Lady of the stellar sky
   Oh Blessed Muse, Urania, Goddess of the Stars,
   You guide us to gaze skyward,
   Night canopy, ancient light.
   From days of yonder yesteryear,
   Your voice has touched our hearts,
   To contemplate the heavens,
   Seek patterns, know the meaning,
   Within your star maps bright.
   The secrets of the ancients,
   Reveal your influence,
   Star seeds come to Earth,
   To teach about the stars.
   Dimensional journeys carry us,
   To revel in your care,
   Urania, Stellar Cosmic Queen -
   You beckon do we dare?
   Infuse me, Blessed Muse - Alight!..."

...Jess retrieves the chalice and raises it, proclaiming:

   "Hail Calliope,
   Muse of the Epic
   of long tales of daring do
   (and the occasional biopic).
   Full breath to those long-winded tellers
   who spin whole worlds,
   those audience be-spellers.
   Fill verses aplenty with adventures grand
   of a brave hero in a strange land.
   O poet, o muse to our ears be kind
   but more to the point to our aching behinds,"

Jess pauses for breath, thinking to herself, "it is epic, isn't it?" then continues:

   "Calliope fair let go of my tongue
   the tale has been told the song has been sung!"

Jess drinks and replaces the chalice...

...Pomb steps up to the fountain and lifts the chalice in a toast, watching the reflection of the chalice toast back from under the water.

"Muse Melpomene of Tragedy in your mirrored world,
you, the darkest, are the fairest in your land
we seek to feel and create all we run from in ours:
horror, fear, awe, grief, regret, pain -
in your land, those things we seek most strenuously are our downfall:
love, pride, devotion, determination, ambition, power -
yet we visit your land again and again,
and with pleasure for in your imaginary realm, we learn:
compassion, care, empathy, balance.
Inspire us to add to the treasure you've inspired,
Move us to open our hearts when we hear your stories.
May we encounter your lessons only in drama,
where all our tears are cleansing ones."

She sprinkles some salt water into the fountain and silently thanks everyone, mortals and muses alike, for their patience... and adds a quick request that with harm to none, she can somehow find time and energy to write the tragedy she has been working on for a tragically long time...

...Lastly and late, Deer comes forward with his own small offering:

   "I sing to She of Sacred Poetry,
   She of the pensive look,
   Favored upon Olympos
   as the progenitrix of Many Hymns -
   Polyhymnia inspire a vision
   that might raise this rite
   to Old Olympos' height
   and garner festive notice
   from each of the Olympians gathered.
   This moon, this night
   silver-tongued, my words take flight
   inspired to gain mortal favor
   from Thy immortal light."

Seeing that all the muses are invoked, and that none come forward for other business, Deer opens their circle, saying:

"Nine muses supplicated,
Nine woods cauldron-fated
Late afternoon shade
Two and twenty columns laid
Below this dome round about;
Our circle is open,
Yet always unbroken
So bid our Muses gay
And each go our Merry Way."