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Subscribe to this list via RSS Blog posts tagged in the wild hunt

Posted by on in Paths Blogs
Did Odin inspire the Santa Claus legend?

I've been meaning to get back to the "Ask Me About Odin" questions, since I have a few of them saved up. I spent most of November writing a book (which I am now about 40,000 words into--probably about halfway through the first draft) at the same time as I was trying to keep my little Etsy business going. Sadly, this didn't leave a lot of time for blogging. Things are still crazy-busy around here (now, after really awesome sales throughout the month of November, I need to work on getting some inventory back in my shop again, plus I am taking two online courses--more about that in another post, perhaps). But this landed in my inbox this morning and I figured, why not write a little something seasonal today?

“I keep hearing from different sources that Odin is the inspiration for Santa Claus, but I hear the same thing about Thor too. Which, if either, is it?”

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs
Spirits of the Oregon Coast

This past Sunday we had a rare treat: a visiting friend of my partner's drove us to the coast, to one of our favorite spot: Hobbit Beach.  I packed my spindle and a braid of hand dyed Portuguese Merino, a libation for the ocean spirits, The White Princess on our Kindle, and a tin of Forest Spirit Salve from Sarah Anne Lawless.  Unfortunately, I forgot one essential thing about the Oregon coast: it is COLD (at least 30 degrees colder than inland), even in the summer.  So I did not take enough warm things with me (no hoodie, no wool socks, and only one long-sleeves shirt) and ended up having a Raynaud’s episode, which made it less fun.  I did, thanks to the fact that I’m not Allowed to remove them from my backpack, ever, have hand knitted wool hand warmers with me, and I ended up tightly encasing my hands in those as if they were mittens until the circulation came back (which didn’t happen until after we had left the beach).

However, I wanted to commune with the wild ocean spirits as we stand on the threshold of Hunt season, and I can say that I did accomplish that. 

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Posted by on in Paths Blogs
"Summer is over"

"Summer is over," Odin said to me, a couple of weeks back.  I think it may have been on one of the 95+ degree days of our recent heat wave.

I blinked at Him.

He repeated it: "As I said, summer is over.  The Hunt is on the move."

"Well, They should fix the weather, then," I quipped.

"Oh, They are working on it," He assured me.

I tried to laugh this off, or blame it on a moment of poor signal clarity, but that very same day, or the next, when I repeated His words to a dear friend, she offered that the leaves on her dogwood tree were changing color and that He had called her attention to that.  We both agreed we could hear hoof beats in the still, heavy summer air: the Host is gearing up earlier than usual this year. 

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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • aought
    aought says #
    My Forsythia bloomed twice last year, and twice again this year. Not the usual course of events. A year ago when I was hiking in t
  • Anne Newkirk Niven
    Anne Newkirk Niven says #
    And then there's this: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/25/alaska-summer-weather-2013_n_3495850.html
  • Joseph Bloch
    Joseph Bloch says #
    And saw this today as well. Thought it was interesting, given your post: http://www.climatedepot.com/2013/08/03/unprecedented-jul
  • Joseph Bloch
    Joseph Bloch says #
    That squares with my experience as well. Not specifically about summer being over, but about something very odd and very portentou

Posted by on in Paths Blogs
And so it begins

I've written before here about how, in our household, Samhain starts early.  For us it begins at the end of September, during the week when we've repeatedly lost beloved pets and on the day when, two years ago, I pledged my service to the Wild Hunt.  This year, that day was marked with an inadvertent bloodletting when the Hunt, not satisfied with the efforts I had made thus far on their behalf, aided me in slicing open the knuckle of my right index finger almost to the bone with a pair of sewing shears.  (Followed, of course, with a expensive trip to the emergency room and several weeks of limited ability to do anything--including typing and crafting--with that hand.  The Hunt does not play.)  

It continued the following week when I made a trip to one of the city's oldest cemeteries (and bear in mind that here on the west coast, "oldest" means the 1800s, and the most ancient looking monuments, crumbling with apparent age, are not truly ancient at all but merely rain-damaged).  I brought with me home-brewed mead and bone meal, to feed the dead, and locally harvested apples for Sleipnir, Odin's giant eight-legged steed.  (Eight legs, by the way; have you ever thought about that?  Why does He--the horse, that is--have eight legs?  Spiders have eight legs.  So does a casket, when borne aloft by four mourners.  Sleipnir is, indisputably, a horse of death, a steed to carry one to the land of the dead--which, throughout the Norse myths, is exactly what He does.)  I discovered an area devoted to the Civil War dead, which startled me because it seemed the wrong coast for that, but the monument statue of a soldier in uniform and the plots of the military dead exuded an aura of welcome for me, a kinship with the "once human" contingent of the Hunt, with Odin's fallen heroes.  Here was succor and support, and so it was here that I marked the stones with my blood, freshly drawn from my finger (not the one with stitches!) using a lancet.  (The dead were especially interested in and enthusiastic about the mead, by the way!)

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  • Jolene
    Jolene says #
    Another excellent post! I'm looking forward to both our celebrations, and I'm thinking that splitting them up as we have this year
  • Soli
    Soli says #
    I found a small pomegranate at the store this weekend and bought it, so I should do something. Just no idea what. Some of it is be

Posted by on in Paths Blogs
The season of death

Ear (Ground) is loathsome to all men,
yet certainly the body will be set upon there,
the corpse grows cold, the soil accepts its pale bedfellow;
leaves fall, pleasures depart, men cease to be. 

 - Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem

...
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Recent Comments - Show all comments
  • Beth Lynch
    Beth Lynch says #
    Er, and in my comment above, I meant to type "he."
  • Beth Lynch
    Beth Lynch says #
    Theresa and Rose, thank you both so much for your condolences! And Rose, thank you for sharing the pics of Sunshine; what a pret
  • Rose
    Rose says #
    Here's a link to my FB album for Sunshine. In case you want to see him. I've even got bitty kitten pics! https://www.facebook.co
  • Rose
    Rose says #
    I had a cat, Sunshine, whom I had to put to sleep because of aggression. He behaved like a crazy kitty in pain. But no docs could
  • Theresa Wymer
    Theresa Wymer says #
    My sympathies for your loss of (physical) Pringle. It's good to know that she still makes her presence felt. She sounds like a lov

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