A few years ago, I was in a shopping mall -- not a normal occurrence for me -- and I walked past a Bombay Company outlet that had in its window the hugest silverplate pumpkin punchbowl. It was on sale, just following Halloween, and I couldn't resist.
Of course, I should have realized that every year, between mid-November when I put it away, and mid-October when I pull it out again, the damn thing would tarnish like nobody's business. I never look forward to the polishing job that it takes to make it presentable. Yet, I've found a way to make the process magical. I spend some time before polishing thinking about the things that I need now to wipe out of my life and project them onto the tarnish that covers my big harvest pumpkin centerpiece. I hum an old tune from South Pacific, although it's generally not a man nor my hair that I'm considering. Somehow, it makes the job more interesting.
I can't believe that we're six short days away from Samhein. What do you still have to polish between now and then?
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 . . . ."