Beltane Eve fires aren’t the same during daylight. There’s
no magic around and no sight of verdant growth being illuminated by firelight.
Maybe that’s why I got burned when I forgot that one of the fingers in my old
gardening gloves has a hole at the tip. It still hurts.
And it’s not the only thing that has been hurting today. I’ve
had toothache, backache, sore sinuses, several other minor twinges, and a
feeling of being utterly washed out and in the throes of extreme fatigue. I
suppose it serves me right for lighting the Beltane Eve fire before sunset.
Maybe the gods or spirits or little people are exacting a fitting punishment.
Or maybe I’m just getting old.
I remember earlier fires in my younger, fitter days, when
the only ache I suffered was for the company of a certain exalted person. Her
very presence among the green growth and the sight of her face lit by firelight
would have made the occasion complete. It’s too late now; she no longer
qualifies. And neither do I.
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