It’s that time of year again–all things ooo-spooky and (hopefully) the autumn rains coming in. Unfortunately, we’re still having bouts of weather that’s way too warm for this time of year, and we REALLY need our rains (yes, I know that the southeast may hate me for saying that, but here–it’s far too dry), and I long for the clouds and cool weather. The autumn mists are coming, though, and we’re in a La Niña year, so this winter promises to be cooler and wetter.
It’s been a hard year, this past year, with losing Morgan in July 2021, and Caly in Dec 2021, and then realizing that I can’t go anywhere (with three exceptions) still because…Pandemic…because…People Not Wearing Masks…because…Variants. So this year there will be no hosting Thanksgiving, again. No hosting our Yule party, again. The hostess in my feels neglected, because this is always the start of the social season for me, but honestly? If it’s the worst that happens, then I can’t really complain too loudly. My writing is going well, I’m making a living doing what I love, the magick is still alive and well in my life, my husband and I’ve been together thirty years, and I’ve found out a couple things that may make my health a lot better.
But back to the Witching Season. It’s the time of spooks and ghosts and the Veil lifting, and vampires and werewolves, and of course–witches. It’s our time of the year, the time when we rise in our power and take back the night as our time. It’s the time when I feel most alive and when I thrive.
So, walk with me under the moon, step into the mists, let’s go hunting for skeletons and ghosts and old bones and ruins that are falling into the shadows…