As we cycle into the dark of the year a ritual on my path is to bury a doll. She is a small clay figurine, curled up in a foetal position.
This is a ritual normally carried out at Autumn Equinox, in preparation for the coming dark of the year. But this year things are a little out of kilter and she was buried later, in the threshold in which Samhain and Winter Solstice overlap.
I can view the hill I buried her on from my house, it’s not towering tall nor holds a circle of standing stones, but to me it is sacred ground.
It’s about a 5 mile walk, at a rough estimate. I pause for a moment as I step from the tarmac road and onto the land, a threshold marking two very different worlds. I hadn’t walked far until I came across a Barn Owl pellet, a mass of regurgitated bones all shaped together with fur and other indigestible parts. I stoped for a second or two using a stick to pull the pellet apart, a momentary reading of the bones of little creatures, sacrificed by great talons.
In previous years the doll was buried in a large black ceremonial cauldron, made by the hands of a friend. In 2019 that changed, as I felt the call to bury her in the earth.
She would travel with me in a small circular tin, and in the photos above I’m on the Isle of the Big Women looking over to Skye. She was buried in the dark peaty soil, further down the hill from a sacred site. As we moved in 2020 and lockdown I felt her connection from under the soil as each of the seasons passed. I held on with a thread, planning to perminantly move back home when I could.
Now I am back on home soil, walking my favorite hill. I have placed dried Rowan berries into the little clay doll for this cycle of the deep, and added a few fresh holly berries from a familiar Holly. Holly trees often acted as markers in the landscape, so effective is their ever green against the browns and golds of winter foliage that I can see her from about 5 miles away, from my window!
The Guardian Holly Tree
There have already been some hard frosts since she was lain in this little opening between two stones. This is at the foot of a dry stane dyke (a traditionally built stone wall) with the roots of my beloved Holly tree below her.
I will visit her again around Imbolc and between now and Spring Equinox there will be rain, sleet and snow. I will return at Spring Equinox to retrieve her, a ritual of divination. But for now she lies on the hill with shortening days, curled up in a foetal position, a fitting posture for awaiting the rebirth of the sun. She won’t see those new rays of light but the little berries pressed into her hair hold sacred intentions which I hope will be blessed by the new light.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Jude Lally