Lenaia ’24

I didn’t realize until I got home late last night that the Lenaia begin today. The whole start of this year is a blur. So, I’m going into another festival unprepared.

That being said, I’m not really doing the Lenaia this year because, once again, I’m deep in miasma. Shrines are covered for at least the rest of this moon phase due to recent aching losses, so my celebrations are muted. I’m not doing any specific priestess functions, but I’m allowed to do a few things.

Purifications, libations, offerings and prayers are always on the table, at least in my odd little cultus, so I started off with a lovely look back through my notebooks at previous celebrations, blessing my Younger Self for keeping good notes for lo these many years.

Then a purification shower, and dressing in clothing and jewelry for Dionysos and also for Persephone. She doesn’t always come through strongly on the Lenaia but sometimes She does, and today She’s been all over.

Took my dog for a walk up on the battlefield. The terrible cold of the weekend has evaporated and it was a balmy mid-40s, but deliciously dark and overcast and ominous, perfect for the misty Lenaia. A little snow lingered on the path and between the trees. Don’t you just love winter trees?

It was really pretty soggy, and I couldn’t help but feel the wavering, barely perceptible limnades, rising from puddles and soaked earth, watching us squelch along.

Hi!

I love how bright the sky is beyond the woods, because as soon as you’re over the rise and can see farther, the sky was Ragnarok dark. I kept hustling poor Delilah along as I was worried about us getting caught in a cold squall.

The snow highlights a little deer path.

Having just read Mycogenous (twice) earlier this winter, on this Lenaia I’m profoundly aware of the life right underneath the layer of winter grass, the fungus on the tree bark, the hum of not-heard communications along pathways we’re only just starting to dream of.

In the muted browns and greys and whites of winter, there was no color at all on this walk, so this little twig of berries leapt up from the ground at me. Just like pomegranate seeds, ruby, blood, fire.

I love the woods in winter.

The fields seem to stretch so much farther than in any other season. You can see how the path bends off to the right. The snow got almost 6 inches deep through there, and you could see the footprints where people turned back. But one set of boot prints and one set of pawprints went through, so Delilah and I forged on, me stepping in the footprints of the other guy, Delilah burying her nose in every bit of discolored snow.

It was a good walk but I was glad to get home.

At sunset all the girls came with me to make offerings of chambord and pomegranate candy. I sharply felt the loss of Ivy, who always came to rituals and offerings and was usually disrespectful. Marley will crone up to Ivy’s level eventually, but for now it felt like a huge gap in our erratic little circle.

The bright moonlight was completely obscured behind thick, heaving clouds. By the time I went to bed the whole farm was wreathed in mist. Otherworldly. Beautiful.