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Glamour & The Dark Part of the Woods

Once upon a time, there was a girl.  We all know her.  She liked to get into cars with boys, she stayed out too late, she looked out for her own interests, she drank, she smoked, she danced on tables, she wore clothes that revealed just a little too much, she didn't play by the rules and she did all the things that nice girls didn't do.   She was the life of the party, girls wanted to be her and boys wanted to be with her.  She left a trail of jealousy and broken hearts in her wake and she never looked back at any of it while anyone could see her.  She only looked forward.

How could this be?  How could a girl who didn't play nicely with other girls (or boys for the matter) be allowed to prosper, thrive and become successful?  She's not following the unspoken rule that we have all agreed to - you are to aspire to become a princess from your shitty peasant life.  Not a queen.  A princess.  You are allowed to be lifted up (preferably by a man) that high.  And only if you are nice.  Only if you never ever hurt anyone's feelings and you say sorry when you do.  Even if they deserved it.  Especially if they deserved it.  Only if you attribute all of your success to others.  Only if you have never done anything at all questionable to get to be a princess.  You are allowed to be raised from the muck of your squalor to princess where you will smile, you will wave, you will do the things you are supposed to do.  You will not rule or make any kind of decisions that are not for puppies or children and then only if your husband says it's okay.  This is the pact.  This is what we all agreed to at birth.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Little Clay Goddess

The little clay goddess went out into the garden on Planting Day.


Now I practically need a machete to get into the garden.

The tomatoes have been the size of grapefruits.

The collard leaves are as big as skillets.

The squash vine, umbilical, not content with taking over the garden, is in the process of claiming the entire back yard. I'm expecting it to grab me as I go out the door any day now.

The butternuts it bears are each more than a foot long. The last one I cooked weighed two and a half pounds.

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs


This post was inspired by the MyPolytheism project.

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Posted by on in SageWoman Blogs



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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Apples Eating Apples: A Vegan Pagan Mabon


Mabon is sometimes called the Pagan Thanksgiving. It is a harvest festival, as well as the time of the year when day and night (light and dark) are equally balanced. For the Vegan Pagan, Mabon gives us a chance to have a Thanksgiving Holiday that avoids modern connotations of colonization and genocide (when it comes to European relations toward Indigenous Americans) and also the association with eating turkeys. As I have mentioned in past posts, about forty-six million turkeys are slaughtered for American Thanksgiving each year. Information about this can be found at the Maine based project, So perhaps you can already see why I think Mabon is the perfect Vegan Pagan Thanksgiving. We can make the celebration about a bountiful harvest of vegan foods like yams, corn, pumpkins, squash, acorns, chestnuts, blueberries, cranberries, and more. But perhaps the star food of the vegan Mabon feast should be acknowledged as the apple.

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Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Crowning the Harvest

 Now the falling of the leaves, now the shortening day:

for Summer is a-going out, and Winter's on the way.


You won't find our Autumn Evenday ritual in any Book of Shadows.

In some ways, it looks more like Thanksgiving at your mother's house.

Well, assuming your mother was Sybil Leek.

After all, this is Witches' Thanksgiving.

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch says #
    I've quoted from seven different songs here; there are lots of Harvest songs. Here's Albion Band's version of the last, The Reapho
  • Haley
    Haley says #
    How does the tune of this song play? I hear something akin to 'Oak, Ash and Thorne', perhaps.

Posted by on in Culture Blogs
Last Apple on the Tree

Last week I picked the last apple on the tree.

It's been a good year for apples, but my trees are young and small, and the crop was subject to the predations of squirrels and jays. Too many times I would leave an apple to ripe one more day, only to find it the next morning, smashed on the ground, maybe a few bites out of it, swarming with ants. So I grabbed this one, the very last one left, dangling on the very thinnest branch, and was grateful to have it.

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