A respite from days under cloud cover and damp atmosphere with blue sky and mild dry air. I woke up after ten hours in bed, nearly three hours awake, only a fair night's sleep. Clare cooked crispy buckwheat pancakes for breakfast. In an effort to avoid a build up of painful wind I renounced marmalade and honey and had a more comfortable day as a result.
After an early lunch we left for a rendezvous at Bute Park's 'Secret Garden' cafe, where Clare was joining the singers of 'Canna Capella' community choir which was taking part in a Wassailing celebration at the community orchard in a woodland area of the park. As we walked down the Spine Road, I helped a couple whose tricycle was stuck manouvering on the roadside verge, and lost sight of Clare striding purposefully to her rendezvous. When I arrived I still couldn't spot her in the crowd of people processing from the cafe to the orchard, accompanied by the Mari Lwyd effigy, which presided over winter festivities in The Half Way Inn last Tuesday, and provided us with some super photos of Clare and Rachel with the Mari Lwyd from Rachel's phone.
I followed the procession, but it was hard to get suitable photos in the convivial chaos, until the crowd filled the corner of the field where the orchard is located. Then it was difficult to move around as the ground was treacherously uneven. I was reminded of my physical vulnerability in no uncertain terms. The community orchard project is led by 'Friends of Bute Park' which is developing this next to mature woodland planting edible fruit trees and enhancing its biodiversity. An excellent initiative by Cardiff's ecophile community.
Many in the procession banged pots or drums as they marched. A number of people in the gathering crowd wore green garb and wreaths of ivy. The Mari Lwyd effigy is a symbol of good luck I believe. As well as a crowd singing Wassail songs, a poem in English celebrating the occasion was read. Mulled cider and apple juice distributed for a toast to the orchard's established and newly planted trees, and drinkers encouraged to make a libation to them as an act of blessing, Chunks of bread were on offer for anyone wanting to toast a piece of bread, and stick it through a bare tree branch, presumably to benefit insects and birds.
A convivial celebration of harmony with nature and the fertility of the land, ritual derived from pagan folk tradition. A secular equivalent to Rogationtide processions, acceptable to people that don't otherwise 'do God' maybe. There's nothing wrong with revering nature and celebrating the environment. Last year's Wassail attracted thirty people. This year, nearer a hundred and fifty.
Organised expressions of religion have been abandoned by the majority. Hunger for community, sharing high ideals values and aspirations remains, expressed by borrowing from traditional pagan and Christian ritual and language. It doesn't depend on institutions, but on creative imaginations experimenting with ways to prevent life from being drained of the meaning established religion gave until it lost its credibility, if not its spiritual heart. One way or another, God never leaves his people without witness to his gracious presence in our ever changing world. 'If only you would hear his voice, harden not your hearts'
The celebration finished in good time before sunset, so we weren't walking home in the dark. After supper I prepared this week's Morning Prayer video slideshow and uploaded it to YouTube. I also sent my sister June a happy 91st birthday greeting for tomorrow - a couple of fresh family photos and an audio recording of Clare, Rachel and myself singing her 'Happy Birthday to you'. And so to bed.
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