Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
A Public Service Announcement from the Paganistani Ministry of Culture
It's time to start saving onion-skins.
Seriously.
We're nearing the end of the Imbolc thirtnight. Here in Paganistan we're in Bridey's Spring: what cowans call the “February thaw.”
Look up and you'll see the buds on the trees standing out from their branches. Light lingers well after sunset. Male cardinals are beginning to sing their breeding-territory songs.
So start saving those onion-skins now.
It's a month and some to evenday, when we'll stoke up the dye-pots and boil eggs along with all the onion-skins we've saved.
Eggs that will emerge from those dye-pots robed royally in the colors of Dawn herself: yellow, saffron, gold, orange, deep Minoan red.
If you start saving now, you'll have enough by then. And every onion-skin saved, every egg dyed, brings Spring just a little closer.
It's a spell, really, one of the oldest.
So start saving onion-skins now.
It's not too soon.
This public service announcement has been brought to you by the Paganistan Ministry of Culture.
Paganistan
“And to the Republic Where Witches Dance”
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