Samhain 2011

The sad news is that Wilko probably met his end at the organic farm next to Celestine. We had earlier had guests who may have seen him on our property in the dark, and Guy told me there were boar markings behind the olive trees. Wilko was eating from Jean-François’ vegetable garden and then ran toward Jean-François who killed him with his rifle. He had been wagging his tail, and Jean-François was terribly upset afterwards and phoned Renaud to ask him if he wanted the boar meat. He could not touch the animal. Renaud went with a friend, and they carved him up. Renaud was fairly certain that he was Wilko, and so ends a tale.

Other things that have happened was my interview by Susanne Garguilo about paganism for a CNN Belief Site article (http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2011/10/31/for-growing-ranks-of-pagans-october-31-means-more-than-halloween/). All in all, I think all of us who were interviewed are pleased with the final product.

At some point, our summer ended suddenly. It had been so beautiful and warm for so long that we had come to take it for granted. Much cooler days and even colder nights we are into now. And then there was a fierce mistral, our first for the year, that shredded the tent that I had not yet gotten to dismantle. There has even been rain that everyone says we needed.

There was the Fête du Coing in Cotignac. We found Stephen and Roberto there as well. One evening, we attended the mayor’s meeting with locals that took place in the Centre Culturel. Much of it was too difficult for me to follow, but I did learn that our local taxes are the highest in our département. Afterwards we had dinner at Liliane and Renaud’s along with Micheline, Nicolas, Christine and Pâris. It was a splendid evening with a splendid family.

I took Melissa to Petit Claude around the time of the new moon. Her power steering fluid leaks, and he has had her ever since. Benoit has come and pruned our poplar tree. Guy had told us it was more than necessary. Had never had this done before, and the tree is now approaching forty years old. Benoit did a fine job, and Guy cleaned it up.

One Sunday, we hiked what was supposed to be the voie romaine behind Moustiers-Ste.-Marie, but rather than Roman, it turns out to be medieval. All in all, we walked, climbed, etc. for about three hours – occasionally passing other walkers but mostly enjoying by ourselves alone the panoramic vistas in the marvellous solitude of empty expanse and nature’s unadulterated bounty. We were well knackered by the completion but still pleased that, as two old men, we had done it. Some citron presseé afterwards in Moustiers helped revive us, but it was a relatively early retiring that night.

Our Samhain was pleasant. We had ritualised for Hallowe’en day itself rather than the first and had an enchanting walk about through the medieval part of the town. All the locals here will admit that our ville is the centre of the world. There is a medieval mosaic map of the world in a former abbot’s residence that depicts it as such. I have seen it. And during our excursions, I zeroed in on the ancient emanating vortex that the town contains and probably has so since earliest times. Even when neglected and abandoned, sacred places seem to have a way of preserving their distinctiveness, and secular buildings are not constructed in them. This one here is no exception to that general observation. We had a bonfire that night, but with too many ancestors and loved ones to name and recall, we settled for reminisces of Alan Bates as well as the general expression of our love and gratitude to those who have preceded us.