Crows and Flowers
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Passion to the Third Degree.
I’ve noticed, for the past few weeks, that there are crows everywhere. When I ran an errand at lunch to Ace Hardware, I saw probably a dozen flying around Merchants’ Walk. I noticed this before, a few times, but usually going in a particular direction, toward a particular building or car or away from a particular building. Odd. I’m not sure what the migratory patterns are for crows, just that there are suddenly oodles of them.
Crows have always been a special sign between my Goddess and me. They’re always a sign to tell me to pay attention. Other times, they appear when I’m in despair and the message is usually that things are as they’re supposed to be right now or that things are happening behind the scenes and I’ll know soon enough. As though they watch between the worlds, seeing things I can’t, and telling me to either watch for certain things or not to worry that I can’t see those things right now.
It’s reassuring to see them.
I wonder, too, if it’s connected with last night’s meditation. I had hardly closed my eyes, let alone begun the meditative process, when I was seeing gardens. Not my garden, though. And yes, I’d been planting flowers hours before, but these weren’t the same flowers and not the same garden. Yet quite beautiful and filled with bright pink…I think…spider lilies? I’m not certain that’s the flower but it was exotic, delicate, beautiful.
I had the sense that while I was sharing my new gardens with others, someone was trying to share a garden with me. The meditation was particularly vivid, unlike any I normally have because I could open my eyes and when I closed them, the garden was right there again, as detailed as if I were looking directly at it in my own back yard. It took several minutes for it to fade and my normal meditation to begin.
It’s a garden I’d love to visit with my bare feet.