A Little Magick

Today was the perfect day, literally speaking, to tweak a little magick and give it a special nudge.  Although today is Tuesday and influenced by the energy of Mars, I used the hour of Saturn…the energy I needed for my little task.  The herbs were wormwood & cloves, salt, and an old hoodoo oil (which I’ll not name here).  The candle was black.  

I love the feeling inside a cast circle.  It was exhilarating and the energy moved easily and well.  The spell candle is quietly burning itself out as we speak.

Magick was made…

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Tarot Card for the day is…The Sun.

Warmth and light, bright tidings, brilliance– both mundane and magickal, physically and spiritually.  Although someone seems to have their ‘head in the clouds’– don’t get too cocksure.  If you’re always looking up, you might trip on something below.  Also, the phoenix rising from the ashes…pick yourself up and learn from your mistakes– looks like you get a second chance.

I was going through some photos from last fall and came upon this one.  I took this picture standing in my livingroom, watching my husband burn autumn leaves in the driveway.  As I came from the kitchen, I wondered what the orange glow was.  No wonder the neighbors wonder.  When we have bonfires, hubby is in charge of the firepit– I imagine he was in a past life too.

I snapped a pic of this tombstone on one of our outings to Ridge Cemetery.  It wasn’t that the tombstone was so unusual, it was the fact that this lady was buried all by herself, in a huge wide expanse of ground between the Catholic & Protestant areas.  In fact, there’s nothing else in this area except Nell and two willow trees, one of which she was buried under.  Why was she so segregated?  Perhaps she wasn’t ‘baptized’ according to Christian code?  I guess we’ll probably never know.  My girls took an immediate liking to Nell– good vibes, from the grave, though the tree.  We stayed and kept her company for sometime.  I have a feeling we would’ve loved her smile.

My boy, Salem, has claimed several unusual spots around the house for himself.  This one is literally in ‘The Witch’s Corner’– though he didn’t get to keep this cozy nest, because eventually I needed the shelf space.  He also has a penchent for sharing the bathroom and hates closed doors– he’ll beg to come in with you, even rattling the sliding door if you don’t let him have his way.  The first couple times he did this, I thought it was hubby– and I was chewing him out…I open the door– and it’s Salem.  Spoiled boy.

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Tea Time with the Witch: Mother Willow

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Most people might head off to the pool during a warm sunny day like today, but me and my girls took off to spend a peaceful morning in the local cemetery.  I wasn’t gathering any dirt this time, since I collected plenty during Beltaine, when the Ladies of Bristolwicks gathered.
Graveyard dirt– bottled and labeled all neat and tidy– was one of the items that I offered at our new-age yardsale, and it’s one of the items I sell at my online shop.  During our yardsale, one lady showed up and worked her way down the tables, chatting with us as she did so.  She came to the bottled dirt and stopped dead in her tracks– “Why would anyone want to buy graveyard dirt?”, she asked to no one in particular, in a very loud and brassy voice.  “I’ve been getting that for years!  What’s the big deal– take a pail and shovel to the cemetery.”

I chose to ignore her bad manners.  I could have, but didn’t, tell her that not everyone may be comfortable in cemeterys, and there are people who may not be comfortable disturbing the ground.

The girls and I were going to the cemetery this morning to visit Mother Willow:

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She’s a majestic old willow tree complacently growing in a wide green swatch of ‘no man’s land’, between the protestant section of the cemetery and the catholic section.  She seems to love where she is, and the birds and other wild things love her just as much.

At Beltaine, after gathering our cemetery dirt, the Ladies and I left four silver coins with Mother Willow as an offering for the soil.  The willow has a hollow spot in the center of all those large limbs, a spot large enough for me to step into.  We buried our silver coins there back in May:

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The silver coins of Beltaine were gone, of course.  But my youngest daughter buried another coin as a token for some willow wands we gathered from the those lying on the ground.  My daughters and I spent some time then, with Mother Willow, enjoying her beauty and wondering at the secrets she keeps.
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As the sun rose high overhead, and the heat of the afternoon descended, we reluctantly left the peace of this place and the comfort of this tree.

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