Litha heralds midsummer. The air expands in the heat. Dragonflies float, almost still, above glittering water; gnats dance in updrafts in ordered colonies. The Sun God stretches his golden limbs lazily; the Goddess looks at him under her lashes. But what about that tall, dark, spear-straight god waiting in the holly's shadow? The height of summer holds its fall.
We celebrate with bonfires the heat, the close press of sun.
A good time to talk skyclad, we thought, even in the Pacific Northwest. Lisa gives us her thoughts on how pagans should approach their first nude rituals. We planned to have more on ritual dress, or lack thereof, in this issue. But the fey of midsummer hijacked the paoer (though we're sorry we lost the story on nekkid Gardnerians! wah!). You can't argue with the fay - or anyway you shouldn't.
What we have is a lapful of glittering pieces: pieces of art. Bestia finishes his story on the priestess Limina, begun last issue; Hawk gives us a fugue in prose meditating on ritual's aftermath. Janice muses on beauty, myster, wonder and how not to listen to a Scotsman. Mark, most timely, reviews a recent Rite of Venus, Blackcat a book about casting spells while male. Shaking off Mercury retrograde's attack on her computer, Bryanny casts her own spell for airy Geminis and those who use Gemini energy. Shea talks about the state of pagan giving, and Catherine serves us basil in fresh pesto and tomato sauce. I'm not complaining! The fey plump too for Genevieve's world-ranging music column and Thea's Magickal astrology. Our cup spills over, and summer pours all over the floor, like honey. The fey laugh at us, again.