And By The Cold, Grey Novembers Of Life, We Transit From Autumnals, Etc.
Wind and rain announcing Autumn! A cat curled up on my lap. Fuzzy socks on my feet and ankles. Knitted mittens for G/Son, almost finished. Mittens for new great-nephew, planned from the scraps. Tea. Opera pouring from the iPod. Samhein with my circle of amazing women, within sight; the table already set, the firepit stacked with beech wood, the Innana candle standing ready.
May it be so for you.
PS: I stole this picture off the internets tubes, but I don't remember where. Whoever knit them, they are lovely!
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 . . . ."