I KNOW a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite overcanopied with luscious wood-bine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine : There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight ; And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
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 . . . ."