How does one write about magick, how to choose the words to describe something as effervescent and ethereal as a garden spirit challenges this writer. Yet, of course, she who writes will try. She wants to. June it was and the first green beans hung long and slender. A good year for beans. As the picker sat quietly absorbed in her task the deva assigned to that particular bean patch moved ever closer - fae to human. But not destined to meet, the picker stirred and turned to see a faint glow of green mist then noticing a bean she had missed in her picking moved on.
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Going for a Ride + Daily Draw
So, no kids, no Sunday dinner to cook opens up free time and plans are to use that driving around and taking pictures of the gorgeous trees. Missouri…
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I Have Not Succumbed
To either the Plague or social unrest that seems to be going on somewhere beyond my quiet farm. I haven't been in public since early March, have…
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I Always Wanted to be an Anchorite
I've been silent for a while now. Quite frankly, I just haven't wanted to talk to anyone. I am pleased to say that I have planted two raised beds,…
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