So, here it is. Summer. Only a few days away and, as always, amazing.
Young feminists moving in and out of my guest room, lavender and sage and tarragon taking root in the sun-warmed soil of my herb bed. Mints growing in the backyard. A tiny young boy who teases me with the mad teasing skillz that are the surest sign EVER that he's his father's son. Cats thriving in my dining room. Briefs blooming in my office, Magic happening everywhere.
Blue weed flowers beside every road. Sun setting later everyday.
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 . . . ."