Today, I was editing a piece of testimony when my cell phone rang and my DiL, the prosecutor who handles death penalty cases while baking gourmet cupcakes for G/Son's day care class, studying yoga, going kayaking, and making Son one of the happiest men on the planet, called me from the Starbucks near G/Son's doctor's office. G/Son had just had his two-year physical and wanted to call his Nonna. I pushed aside the testimony and chatted w/ G/Son about his Elmo party hat. I swear I am going to buy that kid his own cell phone. Because I hope with all the hope that I have that he'll keep calling me to tell me about things like that.
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 . . . ."