It's Not His Fault They Threw Atriots Out Of The Bar. Really.
I don't know; it was something about an uptight bartender, The Rude Pundit's props, and weird Philly hotel security and somehow it was all just better if we wound up drinking Feral Liberal's absolutely amazing fruit wines in Zap's room, with Culture of Truth asleep amidst the noise. SteveLG was nice enough to let me do readings with his lushly lovely tarot deck and, I don't know, somehow it was almost six in the morning. Or something.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."