My simple wooden church was all-but empty when I stepped up to the pulpit to give mass to the congregation. I had half expected it.
When Beltane fell on a Sunday, it seemed to draw out the heretical tendencies of my flock. Every year, they would abscond to some secret glade in the woods, to celebrate the coming of the summer, to pray to a heathen god for verdant growth and an abundant harvest. This year was no different.Continue reading “Jack in the Green by Lee Stoddart”