Spring, our hidden hope, wanders the wasteland. She touches the edges of frozen spaces, then disappears back into the dark forest. She too is still woozy with winter slumber, making her way up the final portion of the staircase inside herself. And we are following her ritual with fever dreams and bone broth. Our cloaks... Continue Reading →

A sorrowful rain befell my desire, and I dreamt of a hooded fox woman who haunted these mountains long before they were first laid bare. Long before the ax, the saw and the realization that the blackness buried deep within the creases of earth made fire for the greed of men. She stood at the... Continue Reading →

Oh, good vulture and other kindred vessels; masters of transformation and alchemists of loss. To all the ones who circle overhead, I give you my sorrow that this life has passed so quickly to here and now, my grief for what I did not know when I was young, and my anger at the loss... Continue Reading →

The quickening moon is upon us. The flutter of a heart from somewhere deeper than our sorrow, a lamb sleeps inside her mother's woolen belly, and Brigid guides the hands of the women who tend to the hearth fire. The winter winds howl their protests while underground the roots stir. "We are coming", they whisper.... Continue Reading →

January is for digging though shadows, searching for deeper comfort. For wrapping oneself in the fur you've borrowed from the wolf inside your heart and sleeping like the bear beneath the frozen ground. We belong to the hearth fire and the frosted whiskers of the horses. January tells us to "stay where you are" while... Continue Reading →

A coyote howls while the dark moon hides beyond our view. We are singing the song of the lonesome nights and the January winds. Kneeling over bones and curled up underground, we wait. There is no respite here. We wait. We wait for Imbolc to bring us hope. We wait while the trees scream above... Continue Reading →

When I was a wee human, one of my favorite holiday tales was of the myth that on the night that baby Jesus was born, animals could speak. I loved to sing "The Friendly Beasts" more than any other Christmas song and can vividly remember watching that animated special of The Night the Animals Talked... Continue Reading →

A long time ago when I had fur over my skin, I used to run ceaselessly through the forest and howl at the moon, willing it to do my bidding. I slept beside the same stream that I drank from, and my food was earned through hard work and strategy. I sought shade in the... Continue Reading →

On Sunday we walk in the fog, through the forested spaces between here and there. The way is quiet and the lateness of summer whispers in tones of goldenrod, saint john's wort and aster. We've come to the forest because the swallows have gone, leaving the barn oddly quiet with an emptiness that fills our... Continue Reading →