Beautiful Plants For Your Interior
Location: Moelyci Farm, Wales
Date: 24th – 28th May
Our recent working group gathering in preparation for the Heart of Yew Lughnasadh Festival was held at the beautiful Moelyci Farm in Wales. Over ten dedicated community members joined us, along with their children, for a weekend filled with meaningful work, shared learning, and deep connection with the land.
Achievements:
Completed two compost toilets, a vital step toward making the site more sustainable and festival-ready.
Removed old fencing, helping to open up the space and improve accessibility.
Discovered a stunning blackthorn tree, which sparked ideas for future integration into ceremonies or educational activities.
Found and cleared natural pathways, enhancing movement through the site and inviting exploration.
Created peaceful meditation spaces, offering future visitors places for rest, reflection, and connection.
Rediscovered ancient tree groves, bringing new awareness to the sacred landscape and its hidden stories.
- Installed a standpipe, ensuring easier access to water for future gatherings.
- Began rebuilding the earth shelter, which had been damaged during a recent storm, restoring a valuable communal space.
Community Spirit:
We shared skills in nature-based practices, fostered intergenerational learning, and deepened our bonds through communal meals prepared and enjoyed together. These moments of connection are at the heart of what we do.
Weather & Resilience:
Although the weather was varied—with moments of sunshine, wind, and rain—our spirits remained high. The unpredictable elements only added to the sense of adventure and togetherness.
Reflections:
This gathering embodied the spirit of Lughnasadh—cooperation, harvest, and honouring the land. It laid a strong foundation for the upcoming festival and reminded us of the power of collective effort and shared intention.
When the Land Sings Back
As we gathered at Moelyci Farm beneath the shifting skies of Wales, there was a quiet magic in the air — a sense that the land itself had been waiting for us. With each step we took, each task completed with care and love, the earth seemed to hum beneath our feet. It wasn’t just a working group; it was a conversation with the land — and it sang back to us.
There was a moment, as we removed the old fencing, when we felt it most keenly. It was as though the land had been bound too tightly, cinched in like a corset for too long. With each post we pulled and wire we rolled, we felt it exhale. Freed from its constraints, the land could breathe again — and so could we. The space opened up, revealing paths, groves, and hidden corners that had been longing for attention. We weren’t just clearing a space. We were listening. Responding. Releasing.
The blackthorn tree we found stood like a quiet sentinel, ancient and watchful, offering a nod of approval. The groves whispered their gratitude as we stepped gently between them, brushing aside brambles to let the light in. When we created places for meditation, we didn’t impose our will — we asked permission. And the land, generous and wide-hearted, welcomed us in.
In the laughter of children, the sharing of meals, and the murmur of voices exchanging skills under shifting clouds, the land joined in our rhythm. It cradled our small group with surprising warmth, embracing our humble offerings of work and presence. Even the wind and rain felt part of the song — challenging us, refreshing us, reminding us we were alive and together.
This was more than preparation for a festival. It was ceremony. It was healing. It was a weaving of hands, hearts, and soil. And as we left, tired but glowing, we knew: the land had felt our love — and it had sung it back.