All of my life, I've loved these animals. There's something both awful and lovely about them. Or lovely about how they inspire awe, or awe-ful about how much I love them, or lovely about how they fill me with awe, or awe-inspiring about how lovely they are or . . . .
Well, foxes and ravens, I guess I'm just and old Wiccan stereotype.
There's a fox who lives on the hill just behind my yard, in an old woody thicket up there. I'm deeply in love and in awe of her. She came out into the yard early this morning, during a short break in our heavy rains, sniffed the space around my altar and my fire pit, turned, looked for the longest time at me standing, coffee mug in hand, on the screen porch, and then decided, I surmise: "Neither food nor foe." I keep thinking about putting out dogfood in the Winter, but I bet a naturalist would tell me it's a bad idea. But, if birdseed is good . . . .
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 . . . ."