I’m working on one of those in-depth 36 card tarot spreads. I’m not sure anyone really knows how much work they are. It virtually amounts to a written interpretation for each card, plus a general overview, and a summation for any specific questions that the client might have. Like I said, it’s a lot of work, but it’s also a fascinating process. As I draw cards and squint at the varied images, colors, shapes, and archetypes, a stranger’s life begins to unfold before me. Weird. At times it makes me feel like a voyeur, often hesitant to reveal too much, less the client feel that their personal space is being invaded. Wouldn’t want that.
For anyone who doesn’t know already– we have a pet chicken. A white hen named Miss Cletus. She was actually just plain Cletus when she was a chick and we thought she was a rooster. We kept watching her scaly little legs for the development of spurs, which never arrived, but one day her first egg did. That’s when she became “Miss”. She generally lays her egg in a large carrier box that is her home in the house, or in the doghouse that’s in the kennel she inhabits when she’s outdoors. But one day I found a present left for me in a kitchen chair. It was bound to happen…
My pot of violas dried up– drat. It’s my fault, I didn’t get out yesterday to water them, and with the tearing hot wind we’ve had, everything that’s in a pot has to be watered everyday. Of course, I felt bad and so I over compensated by watering the whithered plants until the water ran out the bottom drain hole in a steady stream. When I checked on them just a little while ago, I was delightfully surprised to see that they have actually perked up and look almost hopeful. I feel guilty, like I’ve neglected something helpless, so I’m going to go out later this evening and water them again.
We have three cats in our barn who were raised there over the winter by their mother. They are very wild, and we’ve never gotten a chance to get up close and personal with any of them, though we’ve had a lot of fun watching them and their antics from the kitchen window. Two of them are on the adventurous side and have gone off on their own, to return now and then in order to rest up and fill up on large bowls of cat food we put out for them. The third one is not so adventurous. In fact, it looks as though he may become a permanent fixture to Hedgewytch Hollow– our resident ‘Wild Cat’.
One night my daughter went out to check his food and water and make sure his box and bedding were dry, when she discovered his hiding place– the rafters overhead. She could hear him up there, and even see a pinch of his black fur peeking through a knothole. We decided to take my camera out to the barn, leave the flash on, and see what we got.
This is the result:
This cat is a beautiful black angora with a gray tinge to his long fur, and he looks suspiciously like my black angora, Pyewacket. I’ve sat Pyewacket down and had a long talk with him, but he seems to be following the old rule: admit nothing and deny, deny, deny.
Uncanny, isn’t it.
I packed up tubs of magickal merchandise Friday evening so that all I’d have to do Saturday morning was load them in my vehicle and take off for our yardsale. I had a helper– my boy, Salem. He is the Prince of Cats at our house. He is the most personable in-your-face intimate cat that I’ve ever had. Actually, he acts more like a dog, which includes coming when you call and snap your fingers. He’s either sitting on us, laying near us, watching us, or sleeping between us. He follows us everywhere, and he was extraordinarily curious and interested in my tubs and my stuff. He crawls into every box and container that is open, and this has included my jewelry box and the kitchen cupboard. I had to keep lifting him out of a tub and shooing him away from the herbal spell bags. Salem woke my husband out of a sound sleep the other night when he almost fell out of bed and instinctively caught himself by grabbing my husband’s bare foot with extended white claws. It was a rude awakening.
I love hearing from all the interesting people out there. We have a surprisingly diverse Pagan community in the country, and it’s fun to compare notes on all sorts of things, not only magickal practices and spiritual paths, but the more mundane issues which center around being Pagan in a largely Christian society. However, I don’t do spells for people— the personal energy you have invested in whatever it is you’re whipped up enough to work magick on is going to be ever so much more powerful and successful than anything anyone else could do. Believe me. I also do not take business calls on the weekends– especially holiday weekends, before 9am, or after 6pm. Otherwise, I love ya’. 🙂
In honor of “Wicked”, which was playing at the Orpheum Theatre in Omaha, I went “green”. My daughter went to see the play and *Loved* it, she also loved the live theatre experience.
Till next time…