G/Son and I have been reading The Father Christmas Letters by Tolkein and G/Son esp. likes the story about how the North Polar Bear tried to carry all the presents downstairs to load them into Father Christmas' sled. Father Christmas told him not to carry the presents on his head, but the silly north polar bear did it anyway. And then he fell and dropped all the presents on the stairs inside Father Christmas' wonderful home. He even smushed some. (Each time, G/Son assures me (himself) that Father Christmas won't bring US any smushed presents.)
I made him this replica of Father Christmas' home at the North Pole. He was just entranced.
For the first time ever, tonight, G/Son "read" me a story from one of his picture books. He's memorized enough of it to turn the pages and tell me the story. I love this kid.
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 . . . ."