This is part of my daily practice. I'm back from my morning walk, I've got a cup of fresh-ground coffee in my hand (my mug says: You Pray. I Dance Naked in the Forest!) and I'm walking around the garden seeing what's happening. This morning, I have daisies, which Landscape Guy convinced me I could grow even with all my shade, and dill blossoms among the lavender. The bees adore it.
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 . . . ."