Stone Cottage on a Hill

(For my regular blog readers: this post is sticky and will remain the first post on my blog.  See new blogs below.)

I am creating an email newsletter that I have named Witchy Wanderings.  It will be a mixture of my own writing and that of readers who wish to submit their own.  The newsletter will be monthly and each will have a specific theme.  The theme will focus eight months of the year on the Sabbat of that month.  The other four months will have their own themes based on whatever I deem worthy of the time of year (i.e. beating winter blues in January, storm magick and protection magick in April, etc.)

I am in the beginning stages of planning, so this information is subject to change and you can always check back here.  After a couple issues, once I’ve found the flow, I may add other themes to coincide with the Sabbat months.  We will see.

In each issue, I’m looking to publish:

Holiday Lore and Rituals

Moon Lore and Rituals
(Focused on the moon of the month i.e. Buck, Hare, Storm, Ice, etc.)

Nonfiction of the season, experiences of ritual or nature or other things of a witchy nature, and observations relevant to month or time of year - any nonfiction is up for debate.  Just send it in and we’ll see!

Nonfiction of general information relevant to the month or time of year (research type)
(Explanation of holiday, mythological tales, meanings of symbols, etc.)

Spells relevant to month
Based on ancient festivals of the month i.e. Roman or on a symbol of the month, as in faery magick at Litha

General Spells

Poetry or Short Fiction relevant to holiday, time of year, or month - or if a piece is really thought provoking or pretty without being relevant to the theme, it may be used anyway.

Quotes - on faith, Witchy stuff, etc.

It does not cost anything to submit, but I do reserve the right to not use a piece if I don’t think it’s relevant to the issue in which it was submitted.  If it will fit into another issue, I will let you know.  There aren’t many outlets (beyond blogging) to share the things one writes that don’t require a submission payment or provide tough competition.  The newsletter will have neither, and as long as the amount of submissions stays small, everyone will have a chance to be put in it.

The only thing I do ask is that all spells and writings be YOURS, not something from a book or such.  Putting your name to something you did not write is plagiarism and is punishable by law, and I will not publish something from a book even with the author’s name attached unless YOU are the author.  If you quote books or websites in your nonfiction or use them as sources for your writing, be sure to include a “bibliography” (it doesn’t have to be MLA style, just the website or name of book and author). Each submission will be published under your name; if you wrote it, you get the credit.

When submitting, here are a few “guidelines”:

1.) Your name (craft name or given name, whichever you prefer to be published with your article)

2.) Your website or blog (if applicable/if you want it on there)

3.) An OPTIONAL two sentence blurb about yourself to be put at the end of your article; I think this

makes the articles more personal than if only your name was included (shameless plugs within the

blurb for your charity organization, pagany website, or witchy store are okay) i.e:

Heather is a bibliophile with a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and a penchant for cooking.  She maintains a beautiful potted herb garden and loves all things Ireland. (something along these lines)

4.) Article/story/poem/etc. with a title - if you can’t come up with a title, let me know, and we can

brainstorm.

You are welcome to include pictures with your pieces, but I do ask that they be your pictures and not something just pulled off the internet.  For example, if you’re writing an article on how to assemble a Samhain altar, you can include a picture of your own Samhain altar, or a drawing you made of one.

The first issue is tentatively set to be emailed September 1st and will focus on Mabon and the beginning of Fall.

Upcoming issues:

October - Samhain

November - Being Thankful

December - Yule

January - this will be the Imbolc issue, so that people will receive it in plenty of time for the holiday (as it falls at the first of Feb)  Beyond Imbolc, all info should be on January and it’s moon

Feb - Cabin Fever (spells to beat winter blues, info on cleaning, cleansing, and consecrating the home, other ritual ideas to keep one busy as we wait for the arrival of Spring)  Also focus on symbols of the month, Valentine’s Day (love spells), etc.  Remember, no Imbolc info as that will be the January issue.  Feb. Moon and lore.

If you are interested in being added to the mailing list, email me at witchywanderings@gmail.com

haven’t blogged in a while, so just putting up an update.  i broke my pinky finger at karate a week 1/2 ago, anf had to have surgery to fix it.  i’m am currently typing one handed, thus the lack of capitalization.  too much damn work.

i’d never broken a bone nor had surgery, so yay.  pain meds have not at any point helped, so i’m just sadly getting used to the pain.  i go in wednesday to get fitted for a brace, thank goddess, so this huge, awkward cast will come off.

i’m in the process of building september’s newsletter one handed.  it’s very time consuming.  classes start tomorrow - i’m taking Endangered Planet (a geology class), French 2, American Lit, and a stupid required computer class.

State fair starts thurs!  i’m super excited, i always look forward to this time of year.

send healing thoughts.  i’ve got to get over this broken bone fast or both school (all online!) and newsletter are going to be problems.

I can not focus on my novella tonight.  There’s no way in hell this book is going to be ready for submission on Saturday.

On the bright side, I’ve received a few replies about the newsletter.  I’m so stoked to be starting this up and I can’t wait to get started.  I figure I need to finish my novella first.

Can’t focus, damn it.  Where’s my MUSE???

She is hanging heavy and swollen in the sky, lighting the city like a gigantic, softly glowing lantern.  Her face followed me on the way to work tonight and I just kept smiling because I knew she was watching.  To top off the giddy, happy feelings that always fill me during the full moon, the radio played the new song by Uncle Kracker, “Smile.”  Since the first time I heard that song, I’ve decided it’s my song for the Goddess.  Who says you can’t have a song with your deity?  If you can have a song with your significant other, you can damn well have a song with the most important entity in your life!

Andrew left for the Academy today and I am officially in charge of his house and our hundreds of pets.  There are good and bad parts to this situation - good: quality time with the cats and dogs, weeks ahead to refinish and paint my dining room table and chairs, alone time with no one to bug me and no Dakota feet prancing around like a Budweiser horse above my head.  Bad: the state of Andrew’s windows (read: beyond help) leaves the house at a steady 82 degrees during the day.  Yes, that is not a typo.  Do you know how hard it is to sleep when it’s eighty degrees in your bedroom?  Very.

Plus we’re having a severe flea infestation.  Of course, the flea infestation falls as he has to buy all his equipment for the academy and I’ve just put my down payment in for school on my four month payment plan.  This means neither of us has the money to buy five dogs and four cats Advantage flea treatment.  Nor can we afford to flea bomb the house - plus that would be a two man job, getting the animals out for several hours, and he’s now gone Monday thru Friday.  It’s all very annoying.

I’m at work, it’s only one a.m. and I have six more hours to go.  I’m already going stir crazy stuck in this tiny cave surrounded by five million computer screens and CPUs that hum under the floorboards until my feet go numb.  If I don’t go crazy from the EMF level in here, I’ll go blind from the lights.

I’d rather be home celebrating said beautiful full moon as she drifts across the sky.

Ahead of me is a crazy week.  Dakota is in karate camp all week.  He gets out at noon.  I’ll be getting off work every morning and heading to Andrew’s, where I will feed the animals, let them run, and maybe catch a couple hour nap.  By eleven fifteen, I’ll have to be heading across town (thirty minutes between his house and mine) to pick up Dakota and take him home.  Monday and Tuesday I’ll be hanging out and catching more sleep at home until I have karate at eight those evenings.  Then I’ll be rushing back to Andrew’s to let out the dogs, feed them, and get to work by eleven.  At least Wednesday and Thursday I won’t have to go to karate and can just meander back to his house when I wake up.  Friday, he’ll be coming back from the academy for the weekend, and I can just stay home after I get Dakota from camp at noon.

Yeah, crazy week.  Ugh.

Tonight, Andrew and I cooked dinner like a perfectly domesticated couple.  We picked up a value pack of chicken breasts at Kroger and tried out a new recipe using my homegrown Tarragon.  It turned out really good, though we tried it on the grill (chicken, tarragon, lemon juice, olive oil, and garlic wrapped in aluminum foil) and the chicken just wouldn’t cook all the way through.  We had to throw them in the skillet in the end, but it didn’t seem to detract from the recipe.  I’m super thrilled that I got to cook with my Tarragon!

This morning we hit up the Farmer’s Market at Valley High School and picked up some fresh green beans, a bell pepper, and a jar of homemade Blackberry Jam and homemade Green Tomato Pickles (delicious!)  Andrew threw some spices in with the green beans and let them simmer on the stove.  Yum.

The Farmer’s Market was really neat, though it was the smallest I’d ever seen.  The stall where we got the tomato pickles and the jam was run by a good ole Farming couple who were just cracking us up.  They played off each other exactly like two people who had been driving each other nuts for thirty years.  I’d like to keep going back and giving them business through the season.

I haven’t been blogging because I’m trying to focus on my novella.  It’s getting closer and closer to the end of the month.  July 31st is the deadline for the Sarabande Kentucky contest and I’m just not sure I’m going to finish this project in time.  It sucks, because I do have a lot of faith in the story.  But focus, focus is the issue here.  I’m turning what was initially a 20 page max short story into a 150 page novella - and I’m only halfway there.  I just don’t know that I’ll reach the 150 page minimum in time.  If I do, I don’t foresee time for serious revisions before July 31st.

So, I stare at the computer screen and attempt to write.  Write, write, write.  That’s what I need to do.

I’ve been a writing machine the past week or so.  A short story I began quite a while back has taken on a new persona and I’m swiftly turning it into a novella.  Or, that’s the plan anyway.  I’ve taken about fifteen hundred words and am now a bit over ten thousand, with a final goal in mind of forty thousand.

It’s difficult, because the time line is skewed in the way I’m writing it, so what I have to work with is a small time frame.  I know how I want it.  Pretty much the whole story line is nestled safely in my overactive imagination, yet I worry I’m not going to hit my word count.

My word count of 40,000 puts me, I believe, close enough to the 150 page mark on a double spaced word document.  This goal has been set because I’m hoping to enter the piece in the Sarabande Books Kentucky Bruckheimer’s contest, a contest for short story collections, poetry collections, or novellas by Kentucky people or set in Kentucky.  Mine is both.

It’s a strange idea I got from one of my favorite authors websites, but what I thought would be a little weird has turned out to be a grand scheme.  Sarabande seems to gravitate towards “breakthrough” or “cutting edge” works, and I think mine falls into that category.

I’m also fast at work on my occult non-fiction, which is going swimmingly.  I have high hopes for it, as well.

It’s funny, how suddenly I have two projects which I’m completely enamored of and have a lot of faith in them doing well in the market, when I’ve got several finished projects that just can never make me happy.  I suppose that’s the life of a writer.  Having never befriended other writers, I wouldn’t know how this works across the board.  Of course, I’m the weirdo who is insanely jealous of anyone else with writing talent, so therefore I don’t want to speak to them about it nor do I like to be friends with them.  Yeah, call me crazy.

So, to write!

What a beautiful day.  The sun shines brilliantly through the trees above my head, casting dancing shadows on the four foot bushes in front of me.  The bushes are sunburned on top–pinkish red leaves covering the crown where the hottest rays of the sun boil.  It makes me think of the pool, of sunburned shoulders and the smell of sunscreen.

The wind is breathtaking.  All this hot sun and bright angles, and the wind cools my arms and tickles my neck, more like the breeze off a bay rather than the usual “oven door” blast so prominent in a Kentucky July.

The weekend after the Summer Solstice, Ann, Bev, and I met for our monthly discussion in which we are working our way through Dianne Sylvan’s The Circle Within.  I swear with every evening I spend in the company of those two women, my soul sings a little happier.  It’s a twice-a-month reminder of how beautiful Wicca is, and how amazing it is to share it with two people as faithful as I.

After, we hopped in my car and drove over to the Presbyterian Seminary to walk the Labyrinth in honor of the Solstice–an annual deal First U’s CUUPS program does.  I was expecting a labyrinth of hedges, or stone walls, like that found in one of my favorite childhood movies starring David Bowie.  In reality, the labyrinth at the Seminary is just a circular maze cut into the grass in a sunny field, and it was severely overgrown.  The purpose is to attain a meditative state, pray, and contemplate as you focus on following the one way in to the center, and taking that same way back out.  It’s representative of journeying inside yourself, to learn things maybe you weren’t aware you needed to learn.

The sun shone hot but the breeze was light and airy, twirling my purple dress around my thighs.  I kicked off my flip flops and entered, eyes downcast as I followed the carved grass.  I concentrated on the hard ground beneath my feet.  The way the grass tickled my toes.  The sun was on my shoulders, bees buzzing around me.

There are so many twists and turns.  Where you believe one turn to take you a certain way, it takes you in the complete opposite direction, further from the center.  This happens so many times you come to believe you’ll never make it!  Walking it takes strength of will and legs, determination to see through to the end, and observation, to always watch where your feet step on the path.  You don’t want to stray or you’ll have to begin again; barefoot, grass between your toes, you don’t want to step on a bee and get stung, get hurt.  With sweat and hard work, you can make it to the center.

Like life.  Life is all of the above, particularly that of a Wiccan, who understands that her life is hers to control.  Every step I take, I take with the grace of a witch under the light of the goddess.  I plot each step, I watch where I take it.  I make mistakes; I learn from them.  Sometimes what I think is the right way turns out to veer me from the path I wish to take, and I must start fresh–like when I moved to Nashville, then had to come home.  Often I’ve felt like I’m not making any progress, that I’m stagnant and waiting for something greater, but even then, I know I’m moving, I’m growing.  Each day is a new adventure, a new opportunity to learn and grow and be greater.

The Solstice this year was magickal and reverent.  The Sun God now wanes as the dark of the year begins to descend upon us, so slowly we won’t notice until the cold winds of Fall are upon us.  Yet, come Winter Solstice, he will return to power, in this wonderful cycle called the Wheel of the Year.

For the fourth, my parents threw a cook out and Mike went crazy buying illegal fireworks.  I woke up around four thirty and sat with him as he chopped up veggies for the burgers.  People started pulling in around six thirty and they fired up the grill.  I just love the smell of charcoal burning.  If they could package that smell and serve it as food, I’d probably eat it.

It was hot as hell.  The humid air hung heavier than it had in days.  I spent a while catching up with my mawmaw and pawpaw, greeting Mike’s work comrades (therefore my bosses) as they showed up.  When food was ready, I fell on it like a ravenous hyena.

During the meal, Tom (boyfriend to one of Mike’s best friends, Chris) told Andrew and Amber to stand up.  Amber graduated Friday morning from the Criminal Justice Academy; she starts in Courts as a deputy this week.  Andrew was sworn in last Thursday, begins training this week, and will go to the Academy at the end of the month.  Tom is a police officer in another county nearby.  When Amber and Andrew were slow about standing up, he barked, “When someone tells you to stand, you stand!”

Mike laughed and tapped Amber on the arm.  “Tell him his jurisdiction ended at the county line.”

I missed what my boss, Bo, told him while Amber was berating him about his jurisdiction, but Tom pointed at Bo and said, “Hey, you, shut up.  You don’t have a badge.”  He ended up giving a really nice little speech congratulating both of them.

As darkness fell over our property, Tom and Mike began setting up to let off the fireworks, Mike navigating the 4-wheeler, beer in hand, Tom propped up on the trailer behind, beer also in hand.  I begrudged that I wasn’t holding my camera to get the picture–would have been a great one.  Shortly before full darkness, the fireworks began, both at our house and all around us.

It was neat, the distant thunder of fireworks competing with the loud booms of our own.  Everyone began making fun of our neighbors’ light shows.  “Aw, those are little bitty!  They got nothing on ours!”  Someone, I don’t remember who said, “Yeah, but their fireworks are legal.”

From down where Mike and Tom were putting off the fireworks (making us all laugh as they sprinted away everytime they lighted one) we could hear comments from the peanut gallery–AKA Chris.  Behind me, Bo did his impersonation of her (spot on) “Is this all you got?I could light this damn 4-wheeler on fire and it’d be better.”

The same 4-wheeler both Mike and Chris were rumbling around driving with beers in hand.

Bo kept up his running commentary nearly the whole time.  Kaley, a beautiful little girl and the daughter of one of my bosses, said nonchalantly, and quite innocently, “Bo’s the loudest thing here.”

Cue maniacal laughter.  Bo, pouting, said, “You aren’t allowed to outquip me.”

When the fireworks ended and Mike yelled “That’s all for Thunder over Butterbean Ridge, thank you for attending,” Chris yelled out, “The police are coming!”

I looked at Andrew and raised my eyebrow.  “Half the command staff of the (insert law enforcement office here, left out to preserve anonymity) is already here.”

******************************************************

Fourth of July ramblings–notes I’ve found on various sheets of paper from LAST year’s celebrations.

Driving to work that evening, there was smoke so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.  No visibility two car lengths ahead, everybody on the road was pacing themselves to watch the dance of lights.  As soon as one part of the sky would go black, another would light up, a never ending light show.  As far around as I could see–North, South, East, West–plumes of sparkling reds and whites blossomed over the horizon line.  It was like sitting in a giant bowl.

It was so humid the fog just SAT in the air.  Headlights pushed through, perfect cones of light in the haze.  I passed groups of teens, stumbling half drunk down the sidewalk, arms linked to hold each other up.  Ah, to be young and intoxicated, no responsible job awaiting you, only a night full of opportunities.  I remember those days, the carefree feeling of heat, skin, and summer.

I stopped for a Coke at the gas station.  How much more American can you get than an ice cold Coca-Cola?  Take a sip and just taste the freedom.  That’s what the Fourth of July is all about, after all, freedom.  Just like Thanksgiving, the Fourth has lost it’s real meaning to hot dogs and fireworks.  I’m so proud to be American it makes my heart burst.

The smell of ignited fireworks, the echoing thunder that accompanies the light in the sky, the taste of potluck food and the feel of warm Bluegrass beneath my barefeet–that is the Fourth of July.  That is America, to me.

I spent lastweekend at the side of my best friend as she married the man she loves.  Currently, she is either on the way home or will be home tomorrow from her honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where I hope she has spent lots of lazy days in the sun with good alcohol (and her new husband).

In the whirlwind of events surrounding the wedding, I (the note taking queen), didn’t take notes.  So, I don’t really have any material to recall the events of the weekend.  That sucks, and I wish I had remembered, but there you have it.

This is my bare outline.

On Wednesday, Erin and Miki began baking the cake, a towering, beautiful concoction of orange and buttercream icing.  Straight out of the oven, that cake was a piece of sensual dreaming that melted in my mouth.  Through the three day process of baking, icing, and creating the cake, Miki was super stressed, but the final product was beautiful.  For much less money, Erin’s wedding cake was not only homemade, but just as nice as a professional cake.

The rehearsal went great.  Erin looked ravishing in an ankle length halter dress–I can’t remember the last time I SAW her in a dress that wasn’t a prom dress.  The church was lovely, though hot as Hades, however the preacher left much to be desired.  Everything was “God” this and “Jesus” that; that’s all fine and dandy in a marriage between two devout Christians.  My best friend is no such monster; while she is faithful to a degree, she is still unsure as to what she believes in.  Her parents are what I would consider “spiritualists”, two very cool, musician hippie-types, and Erin seems to have followed those footsteps in certain ways.  When the Preacher, instead of “I Do,” tells Erin and Jason to say “I will with the grace of god,” I was a TAD confused as to why she would let him do that.  Preacher was recommended by Jason’s parents, yada yada, gag.

Rehearsal dinner was yummmmy at Austin’s.  I partook of Cedar Plank Salmon and a delicious (if warm) salad.  Erin gave Miki, Darcy, and I beautiful teardrop purple jewelry (necklace and earrings) and a bracelet with our initial carved into a heart.  She also gave us comfy black flip flops and put it all in a great black canvas bag with our name stitched in cream.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and early after a harrowing night of listening to Tyr cry and bark in my bathroom.  Miki was late getting the cake, so by the time we got to Mellwood, Darcy and Jared and a few others had already finished decorating.  I posted up in the kitchen and watched Miki begin to put together the tiers of the cake, until Darcy and I had to leave to meet Erin and get our hair done.

For the sole purpose of getting my hair done with Erin, I opted to use her hairdresser, a really nice, pretty young woman named Kari.  She tossed my mop into an updo of big curls that turned out very nice.  Erin’s hair looked amazing, her long white veil draping a blue button down and jean capris.  I told Darcy, “If I’m teary eyed at her now, how’s it going to be when she’s got the dress on??”

We dropped Erin’s car at her house, zipped by the get Andrew at my house, and headed to the church about two.  Darcy did Miki’s hair in our little, hot dressing room.  Getting Erin in the dress was an issue because she couldn’t step into it, it had to come over her (fancy, already up) hair.  I got several nice pictures of Sharon helping dress her.

When Darcy helped Erin slip her shoes on, she said three incredibly funny things: “Which hole does it go into?” “Raise your skirt a little higher!” and “Gosh, it’s wet down here!”  Yeah, it was even funnier in person.

After we were all dolled up, we took turns taking swigs of peppermint schnapps from a flask.  Then the ceremony began, and it flew by.  Erin cried big tears as her Daddy walked her down the aisle and made everyone else tear up.  When it was over, we took pictures and hopped the limo to Mellwood Arts and Entertainment Center.  While in the limo, we drank a bottle of champagne and took pictures.  Getting in and out was interesting in our long dresses.

Mellwood looked beautiful and the party was in full swing.  The DJ announced us coming in, and we grubbed out on Ramsi’s catering.  Erin and Jason made the rounds and visited each table to speak to all their guests.  In a funny twist of events, a girl we went to high school with was getting married and had her reception in the other event room–Amanda Nana.  She was certainly quite different from the shy, chubby girl I knew–she’s now very thin and looks nothing like the old version.

I did drink a little too much, but I think everyone did.  We danced a lot, and did the requisite Electric Slide and Cha Cha Slide (this is America, after all).  I also learned the Cupid Shuffle, pretty easy.  I gave a speech and promised I wasn’t going to cry, only I did, so everybody else did too.

Sunday morning, we had brunch at Erin’s parents.  Miki made delicious “omelettes in bags”–we picked what we want, put it in a ziploc bag with two eggs and squished it all together, then she boiled them for fifteen minutes.  Healthier than frying and just as good!  Erin was channeling “new bride” in a pretty white dress that looked amazing on her; both her and Jason were counting the minutes til they left for Mexico.

A statement one of John’s friends made stuck out in my mind.  John “wraps” some woman’s legs due to fluid or something like that, and it takes a lot of bandages.  Instead of using disposable and making so much waste, he just launders and re-rolls a bunch of bandages to use each day.  His friend said, “That’s amazing in this disposable society.”  It’s so true.

It was a beautiful wedding.  I can’t believe my  best friend’s married!  I’m so honored to have been a part of it, though I’m mad at myself for not taking better notes.

I’ve began work on a new writing project, an occult book.  There’s only one of it’s kind out there, so I’m not going to blog too much about what it really is lest someone steal my idea.  Needless to say, it’s going to be a great project that I feel really good about.  Because there’s such a lack of what it offers out there, I feel like it could have a better option at being published, particularly through an occultist publisher like Llewellyn.

I’m not doing a whole lot but working and reading lately.  Mom and Mike leave for vacation next week and then it’s time for Erin’s wedding.  I’ve been trying to focus a lot more on practicing Wicca now that my altar is home and everything is slightly organized and in place (as best as it can be without my china cabinet).  My to-do list grows by the inch each day, while my motivation to clear things off remains as low as my desire to actually do them is high.  Oh, life.

I’ve begun revisions on The Temple, and I’m just not too certain about it.  I completely reworked the first chapter using the suggestions of the writing group I attended in March.  Even so, Andrew still said you can tell it was written in a month.  Doesn’t bode too well if my first round of revision didn’t at least get rid of that feeling.

My self-esteem about my writing is extremely low lately.