In the Norse myths the great ash, Yggdrasil, is the World Tree. Its image is one of ecological integrity. Ash dieback, a disease of the European ash, has both profound ecological and mythological implications.

The crossroads are steeped in mystery and folklore. The place where two or more roads intersect is a liminal space, a no man’s land belonging to no person. Perhaps that is why they are places of magick and folklore. Perhaps this is why they are spaces to commune with the spirits of the wild, unseen forces that pull at us. In this world where every inch of land is owned, where we are expected to be on the go, never stopping, trying to fit it all in, where we must always be something other than our true natures, perhaps that is why the crossroads call to us.

As I write this, I’m sitting in my garden, drinking my morning brew in the dark and listening to the rain. At this time of year, there isn’t much of a dawn chorus. That melody is better than any orchestra of man, but even in these darker months, the birds are ever present; the chirps of the sparrows nestled in the thick ivy, the loud and melodic call of the blackbird, clear as a bell as is the robins song. It’s no wonder we, mankind, have a special fascination with these feathered creatures as shown in the vast array of folklore associated with birds.

We see it time and time again. Hipster foods that make poor brown people starve because they can no longer afford a food that was once their staple; or crops that are grown for cattle to satisfy our demand for ever cheaper meat instead of to feed those people who grow them. It’s not those folks who benefit from this supposed growth. It is not you or I.

The crossroads are a symbol found in most cultures, signifying the many possibilities, the many choices and the spaces in between. They are steeped in mystery and folklore, the place where two or more roads intersect is a liminal space, a no man’s land belonging to no person.

‘What to make of this strange and numinous image of a tree half burning from roots to tip the other half green?’

A poem about Gwydion, the Welsh magician god, and the shift from the woodland knowledge of gwydd to gwyddoniaeth ‘science’ which has played a role in our current ecological crisis (with accompanying notes on the mythic background).

The Anansi stories hold a special place in my heart, what with my family, or at least the paternal side, hailing from the Caribbean. But there’s another important aspect to not only the Anansi stories, but most folk stories, generally speaking of course. Many of them come from the common people. These stories are born from the shared struggle against the harshness of life.

I adore folk lore, superstitions and old wives tales, from all over the world. There are stories and sayings about almost everything you can think of from trees, to birds to the weird and wonderful. I believe such stories give a great deal of insight into humanity’s relationship with the natural world, and highlight the common thread that runs through whilst at the same time celebrating our differences. These stories can help to deepen our understanding of and thus our connection to the land. Here I’ll share with you some of my favourite tree lore.

Now is the time for us rise up, to take direct action against the injustices we see in this world, all injustices, whether to other people, animals or the environment, however we can.

The shift in perspective, from the March Wind as a mad but familiar ally to alphabetically named storms viewed as entirely dangerous and oppositional, reflects climate change and our changing attitudes toward the weather.

Traditions are kept alive through repetition. The gods are honored by honoring the cycles of the seasons, which dictate when offerings are given, and by honoring the process of life and death itself.

Slovenian Christmas songs, remembering the Sun and the Water, and holding on to old traditions.

Don’t you think ghost stories are another herald of the darker months? Not the stories of gore designed to frighten and elicit screams, but stories with more than a hint of truth, the stories of loss and tragedy…

On being white and talking about racism. How to witness and learn from Afro-Brazilian stories of resistance, through lenses free from the objectifying effects of the white gaze.

After a drought summit is called on Lammas/Lughnasadh/Gwyl Awst Lorna Smithers journeys to seek meaning from the Welsh story of Lleu Llaw Gyffes

The Spirit of the Depths had shown me how to awaken the dead,How to bring forth the lost memories of the dream world

But with what desperation do we seek to deny the cycles of time! That it were not so is the dearest wish of humanity. Any catastrophe imaginable would be preferable to the secrets hidden in Troy Town.

Practical steps that universal/independent Kindreds and Heathens can take to: Combat the overall appearance of collusion with the Odinist racist ideology by no longer keeping a shameful silence.

A giant does not find it easy to die. We are too big.