And I had a little ceremony that I made up on the spot.
First, I had to roll the rock from the backyard to the front. It wasn't that hard. Megalithic men, and maybe women, possibly my ancestors, moved much larger stones in some means of community enterprise (or abject slavery).
Then, I began the ceremony. I rubbed the bottom that was to go in the ground with a piece of slag iron from Wales. The blister on my thumb indicates that some of my DNA may have gone into this without any need for ceremonial blood-letting.
I wrote "CYMRU" on the rock with a piece of Welsh coal. And with a Cornish stone, I scratched "ARTOS" because, well, why not? I couldn't find the Yew needles I gathered at the Holy Tree in Cusop, They must not have survived the TSA shakedown. So I had to use some fresh ones of my own. Maybe that's better. And I did have some sea-shell shards from the beach at St. David's.
A neighbor walked up with some home teaching business and seeing my teapot, asked if I thought the rock would grow. I explained that at at least it won't blow down like the tree it is replacing. I didn't explain any of the ceremony because, well, it explains itself better here.
After he left, I raised the stone and watered it from the teapot similar to the one we believe my 4th-Great-Grandmother may have carried across the plains. It just seemed like the thing to do.
I took some good soil out of our garden and some turf from places around the yard where I didn't need grass. The end product looks pretty good. I will be out at the Solstices to see where the shadows fall. Maybe I'll need a couple more stones then to mark out some lines. It's not really the ideal place for a full circle.
|The view to the North|
|The view to the South|
|Stone Circle below Gospel Pass in the Black Mountains, Wales, 2010|