still here...

Stitching and finally finishing a project gone dormant feels good.

Tacked onto a base of black linen, it became a book cover for my tarot journal -- now I want to make another one, only with a different card for inspiration. 

This year I have set Mondays aside as a day for watery, intuitive rituals. One thing is a constant -- I first light a candle and meditate and then draw tarot and/or oracle cards for the week ahead, using different decks each month. I definitely have my favorite decks to work with but by rotating them, I get to know all of them better. (I also give myself permission to buy new decks now.) Monday/Moonday is just a good day for me to stretch and learn. Some watery mundane things include watering plants, laundry, soup-making, medicine making, taking a bath -- it all depends on the season.

A new colony of honeybees moved into the tree-house a few months ago. 

                                                                                                                                                                  This bee-house is occupied by a colony led by Queen Heidi II who is the daughter of the first Queen Heidi. I love that the women who raised and sold us the colony had a lineage established to pass along.                           

Another cloth close to being finished. For months, I have been trying to decide whether to chop it in half or not. It seems like it would have more options to be useful if it were smaller.

These are the new girls, Liza and Amber. Liza is a French Cuckoo Marans (with feathers on her feet) and Amber is a Dutch Welsummer. I'm learning that having chickens is not for the weak of heart -- Lilith died one morning in my arms, out of the blue. Then another young pullet named Saphie was sick from the start and died after only a few weeks. I have seen and learned so much in such a short time.

The original Moon sisters -- Margaret Wise Moon, Honey Moon and Cinco Moon. True to form, they are very tough on the new girls, pecking order being so important and all.

On the kitchen table, some new-to-me plants -- Marimo moss balls. They aren't really moss balls, they are actually solid algae balls that live in the bottom of fresh water lakes. The movement of water currents makes them round so I try to help by spinning them around by hand when I think of it. Their water needs to be cold and they need to be kept out of direct sunlight. I squeeze them gently and replace their water every Monday. 

A red sun one afternoon with forest fires to the north and the west of Denver.

Nasturtiums soon to be harvested for the kitchen.

Assorted reading and easy knitting, hexipuffs for the beekeeper quilt. 

A project for autumn -- to partially deconstruct and then reconstruct craft-store brooms and then make my own broom from scratch using the lighter, greenish broom corn, Sorghum bicolor, that I grew last summer. The darker broom corn broom was a gift that will serve as a model of one way to do the stitching. I'm reading about broom folklore and magical uses and like the idea of an ancestral broom for the time when the veil thins next month. 

The garden at the beginning. See the kalette plants grow around Buddha.

Mid-to-late summer -- Buddha's mask. I planted kalettes all over the back yard because the chickens loved them last year and it was so fun to watch them jump to reach the leaves at the top. They are beautiful plants.

Last night when it was nearly dark. Buddha wearing a headdress. 

I hope you are happy in the now moment and also looking forward to good things in your life. I love the feeling of reconnecting after such a long time. 

xo

spells

Nature has most certainly cast the spell of Winter upon us and there's no getting around it. Though I may at first resist this slower energy, on a deeper level I sense that darkness is necessary and eventually comply with the need to rest. I know that in the end tending my inner flame for these few months rejuvenates me for Spring.

Spells are feelings, words, visions, objects and even fragrances that manifest their energies.

A garden Buddha wearing a rose hip necklace emits peace and calm whenever wherever. 

 

Every time I look at a rose hip I remember that pollinated rose blossoms (self-pollinated or by bees and other insects) must be left on the plant to form rose hips. The rose hips I gathered last autumn from a friend's garden were strung and dried -- about 8' or so.  

Brown and white are the epitome of austere simplicity to me.

Words are spells in themselves and I do so love the feeling that something magical is about to happen.

A little drawer of wings for spells -- also includes wasps and maybe some other unidentified winged creatures.

Words at the ready, this year I want to infuse my projects with magical words. This is a Brigid icon I made for myself last year around St. Brigid's Day/Imbolc. Brigid likenesses are rare in my experience so I made my own sacred work. I will be hanging this above my Brigid altar in time for her feast days which are February 1-2. See some of my past Brigid's Day rituals and activities here and here and here and here.

A book of pure magic, this man's words changed me in unimaginable ways.

Cloth strips, thread and needle with the intention of well-being for our trees.

Recycling egg shells back to the hens who made them.

Sorrow visited here. A hawk somehow landed into a tight space in the outer run and killed Henna Penny. I came upon the scene before the hawk had mutilated her very much so we buried her in the garden and placed a heavy piece of concrete over the grave. Still, an animal dug the body out from the side during the night. Winter survival is very real.

The poor dears are molting. From left to right: Margaret, Cinco, Lilith and Honey Moon.

I like thinking of everyday common phrases as positive word spells -- good morning, good night or have a great day. Although they may at times feel mundane and meaningless, just imagine their effect if they were of the opposite sentiment.

And now it is time for me to say happy new year, may you thrive and prosper and blessed be you!

Love,
Peggy