The old woman nodded as she listened to the soft, bubbling words [of the spirit of the well]. Then she went back to the cottage, her eyes bright with resolve, her step firm with courage.
She took water from the sieve and sprinkled it over the doorstep. When she got inside she saw a cake, dark reddish brown and unappetizing to look at, on the table. ‘They didn’t even wait for me to come back with the water,’ she said to herself. ‘They were greedy as well as wicked. But thanks to the spirit of the well I know what is in that cake.’
Geoffry Palmer and Noel Lloyd, “The Horned Witches,” Nine Witch Tales, ed. Abby Kedabra (New York: Scholastic Book Services, 1998), 13.
There were a few magical things about this cake I baked for my birthday: I still had the book from which the above quote is excerpted and the cake actually worked this time.
Read more →
This post may be best placed on my other blog, Cemetery Spelunking, but it bears mention here.
Stained glass window next to the front door in the narthex of Arlington Metaphysical Chapel; view from the basement stairs.
When TC and I went mountain bike camping a few weeks ago, one night we hung out with this older gentleman and his dog since they were the only other people at this remote camping spot. The old man kept playing classic rock and folk that neither TC or I knew (I like Pink Floyd and that’s about the extent of my classic rock knowledge). He kept saying, I want them to play this song at my funeral, playing songs by Cat Stevens, JJ Cale, Jim Crochee, and Lobo.
I don’t know what song I want played at my funeral, but I did hear this song recently on Pandora, “Without Faith” by ThouShaltNot. It’s perfect for a scene where I plan to kill off a major character in my novel (the fourth or fifth book, actually). Why should you give a rat’s ass about my killing off a character in a yet-unpublished series? You shouldn’t; I’m just talking about that which makes me happy, writing. Besides the obvious that the character is an atheist, it’s a haunting song, appropriate for death and dying. Maybe it’s not “up there” in terms of musical virtuosity (and who am I to judge, since I can barely sing or play bassoon and guitar?), but I like it and it gave me ideas for my art.
What song do you want played at your funeral?
When life gives you potatoes and failed curry, make curried mashed potatoes. (Yes, you can mess up making curry, even when you make it all the time.)
Read more →
My gifts to others were a gift to myself this year for Solstice/Chanukkah/Christmas. I turned my writing time into beading time for the last two weeks in December. Focusing on beading let my mind wander and work out plot issues with my writings and meditate on other matters.
Read more →