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I participated in an online May pagan celebration in a mainstream, non-pagan-specific space dedicated to fragrance, and it was amazing. The May Day week coincided with a celebration for C.'s birthday, so there was lots of celebrating going on in my house offline as well. The houseguest celebrations ended up lasting much longer than originally planned and that led to some changes in my Days of the Week fragrance selections. 

The week of May Eve and May Day 2025 the Gourmand board on the Fragrantica forum held online pagan celebrations. The host dedicated each day to a different set of deities and cultural groups, including Ostara, Flora (celebrating Floralia), Lada (and Slavic culture), Brigit, and others. She started the week off with a role playing adventure, inviting the participants to choose names as various nonhuman beings such as nymphs. I chose to be a hobbit for the week.

Don't look now, but the guy walking down the sidewalk is dragging a life-sized wooden cross, hooked over his shoulder.

(Well, big enough to crucify a large child on, anyway.)

I think of H. L. Mencken's famous definition of Puritanism: “the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be having fun.”

We are. It's the first Sunday in May, which means that here in the pagan neighborhood it's the annual May Day Parade down Bloomington Avenue. Thousands of people, as we do every year, have gathered to dance down the street in collective joy that Winter is finally over.

As the guy gets closer, I notice that his cross has a caster on the bottom. Hmph. Jesus should have had it so easy.

A satirist by nature, I can't help myself. I start to sing:

The wheels on the cross go round and round,

round and round, round and round;

the wheels on the cross go round and round,

all through the town.

People around me laugh. The guy looks irritated. Not quite the reaction that he'd expected, maybe.

A while later he comes back, headed back to wherever he came from. This time people around me join in.

‘This is my picture and I dunno what it means’ – A Journey of Revelations

by

The group of witches sits listening.

Alison is telling us about her coven sister who, in the mistaken practice of the day, deliberately raised her children, not as pagans, but as nothing, so that (in theory, anyway) they would have the freedom to make their own choice for themselves later in life.

(The tragic result of this ill-conceived exercise in spiritual libertarianism was almost invariably that said children, having no basis of comparison by which to make a good decision for themselves, usually ended up falling prey to the first spiritual predator to come along.)

“...And so when she was eighteen, her daughter became a...”

A pregnant pause.

“...a Baptist.”

A collective gasp of horror.

Flower essences restore emotional balance and aid physical harmony. I recommend using Dr. Bach’s flower remedies, which were originally created from the morning dew found on flower petals. These subtle medicines are available in most health food and metaphysical stores. To know which essences are right for you, take a pendulum and write the essence names on paper in a wheel formation. Holding the pendulum in the middle, wait for it to select one name while chanting.

Spirit of the flower, help me this day

Here's my male-male version of Thomas Morley's 1595 classic madrigal Now is the Month of Maying. (A female-female version won't be far to find for those so desirous.)

“Barley-break” is a typical May Game, a kind of tag played by three couples. Remind me to show you how to play it some time.

Fa la las: not just for Yule any more.

Now is the Month of Maying, Revisited

Now is the month of Maying,

when merry lads are playing

fa la la la la la la la fa la la la la la

each with his bonny lad

all in the greenwood shade

fa la la la la la la la fa la la la la la.

The Spring, clad all in gladness,

doth laugh at Winter's sadness

fa la la la la la la la fa la la la la la

and to the bagpipe's sound

fa la la la la la la la fa la la la la la

the youths tread out their ground

fa la la la la la la la fa la la la la la.

Fie then! Why sit we musing,

all sweet delight refusing?

Why Are There So Many Jokes About Kilts?

Why are there so many jokes about kilts?

Well, my new family plaid kilt is here, right in time for Beltane. Just one problem, though: it's a wee bit long, laddie.

(Ieuan of Cymru: Jones of Wales, in case you're wondering. Bet you didn't know that there were Welsh tartans too, did you?)

(Actually, there weren't, until some enterprising entrepreneur thought them up around the turn of the 21st. So what?)

Love that, ancestry notwithstanding, the kilt has managed to become the National Attire of the Pagan Male, maybe because it's the next best thing to skyclad.

Commando? Seriously?

Darling, I'm pagan. You know what they say: With underwear, it's just a skirt.

Love the look, love the freedom, love the weight and motion, striding out. As my friend Stephanie says, every guy looks better in a kilt.

As for that extra length (maybe the Welsh are more modest than Scots?), well: that's it's own kilt joke.