It hardly seems possible that it is already a month ago that we were waiting in a place between the worlds for the rites of Beltane to reach their culmination. Glastonbury…the fabled Avalon… is a place where the veil between realties always seems thin, and in this case, the geography aligned itself with legend as we congregated in a field, high above the town, yet far below the summit of the Tor.
It was a perfect location; an impromptu sanctuary, enclosed by trees, poised between the valley and the heights. The tower of the church within the town below an echo of the ancient tower on the Tor…and it was here they would raise the maypole that would marry the worlds.
Children ran and played in the sun, introducing themselves to grand old trees, families and friends gather, laughing and smiling in the perfect weather. No-one was a stranger, even…
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