The clouds amongst the Pacific Northwest are growing heavy with the promise of snow, heralding the approach of winters reign. The cold winds blowing from the North are a testament for what is to come…The Witches Hunt.
Last night I watched the moon rise amongst the dark night sky; it left me breathless, seething, scared. As it crossed it’s sea of stars I watched it’s descent beyond the ocean waters and made my prayer, my offering of spirit to soar amongst the Companie of Night.
As I sit out upon the land, watching the clouds toss and grumble, I know that snow is on it’s way, and Dame Holle has accepted my offering. The Raven’s feather is a testament to that.