Nothing much happened during ordinary time. This was after the feasts ended, after the presents had been put away, after the wrapping paper was thrown away. . .
Sunday morning. Awake, alone. Chores done. Quiet reigns. A glass jar, clean and ready. A small black candle lit - black to remind you of the witches' cloak. Incense streaming in from the windowsill. Chamomile for calm because these are dark and troubling times. Hyssop to invoke the divine, whatever you imagine them to be. … Continue reading A spell for survivors