So there I was, in the corner of the park, by the lake, out of site of the main carpark, wrestling with the various peices of green garden arch, and wondering whether anyone would spot me, whether anyone else would actually turn up.
I had, inevitably, spent most of the morning doing a final hunt in the shops for the various bits and peices of props which suddenly seemed essential to a successful ritual/celebration, including this cheap lightweight archway, so I hadn't arrived as early as I'd originally planned. And then there was, inevitably, a 'slight technical hitch': the box containing the peices of arch did not, as advertised, contain the necessary bolts to hold it all together. So it was time for a quick trip to the local hardware. I forked out another $8 and consoled myself with the thought that the archway would be perfect for Flowering Earth too, then hurried anxiously back to the park, hoping that the large plastic carton, the bucket, green ribbons and scattered pieces of garden arch would have been a sufficient clue to any early-comers that I was somewhere about... But there was noone.
Another deep breath, and I eventually got enough of the pieces fastened together to a have a standing, if somewhat skewed looking, arch, and hung a bunch of gum leaves and paperbark folliage from the centre of it. I put the blue bucket underneath, filled it with water from my gerry can, put the big green ceramic frog near by, and the three miniature watering cans, and started to feel like I was nearly ready for a ceremony. There was still no one much about, except a few folk walking their dogs, who glanced at me curiously, and set me reflecting on how much more conspicuous I felt being out there all by myself, where it wouldn't bother me at all if I had had some company.
I had hung my orange, green and purple robe on one side of the archway like a banner, to try to attract the people I had a sneaking feeling were not actually planning to turn up, and tied the red, blue and yellow masks on to my staff, which I leant against the other side of the arch. I stopped, and took a deep breath. The sun had come out for the afternoon after a couple of wet grey days, and the park was amazingly green and alive. I thought how beautiful the archway and it colourful decorations were, and decided that I was glad to be here, to have made the effort.
It was now half an hour past the advertised starting time. I had made a quick hike up to the carpark, but spotted no-one I recognised. So I decided it was time to cast the circle and do my own celebration of the season, wishing I didn't feel quite so self-conscious of passers-by.
I had just thrown my coin into the wishing well when Jane and her boy turned up... so we talked a bit, and then started again. I wished then, that I had had my Robin with me, so that Kosters would have had some boyish company. Nevertheless, we had fun, doing a wild rain dance around the archway, pouring the water out onto the grass as a prayer for good winter rains to fill the rivers and dams. I introduced the two of them to the joys of bobbing for apples and we all got wet heads and had a good laugh. We ate chocolate frogs and shared the pikelets that Jane had brought for afternoon tea. Then the two of them went off exploring around the lake, and I slowly packed all the gear away. By the time I had it all safely back in the car, and we had said our goodbyes, the sky had clouded up again and the magic hour of the afternoon was over...