Via Hedera

The darkyear rises and summer fades. I harvest my 11 foot poke tree's berries and wait for her soul to retreat back to her root, just in time for the final harvest. She may be toxic, she may be poison, she may be dangerous.... but gosh what a pretty color she makes...


Been harvesting my giant 11 foot poke tree. With the darkyear and the rise ofShe may be toxic. She may be poison. She may be invasive. But damn she makes a pretty dye... next up; usnea.

San Juan Smoke in the making. I collected some cedar, resin and seeds from around the islands this summer and decided they needed to be together, as a community.

That autumn chill is finally in the air. It's the season of my birth, harvest season and the rise of the dark tide of the year, and I am very much not looking forward to it. I'm exhausted by the cold and the dark. I was built for summer heat and green vines.


Dreading the coming cold too?

Kousa Fruit Season 😋

My fingers are stained fuchsia. My lips are stained burgundy. My floors are stained scarlet. The potions are puce and purple, the dishes are the color of rust. I don't mind all the mess. Thats part of the magic.

How did you spend the lunar eclipse on the full moon of Jupiter's day? Did you feel a shadow move over you? Did you feel wild? Were you asleep?

Myself, I have potions brewing. The kind that you won't find in recipe books or grimoires. Ones you have to learn from another and never put to text. I've had flowers steeping and fruits macerating and roots roasting since the sun rose yesterday and will spend Venus day balancing harmonies and spirits as they become something greater than the sum of their parts.

Fickle Fate and Fortune smile on my work... its the kind that needs all the luck it can get. So please be a lady.

Justice is hard to come by. It is not hard to pray for. I don't think I've spent more time with the spirits just trying to capture light and reflect it back out into the world. Like the sun. Like Jupiter flickering in the distant night sky.
Somewhere out there, a beacon of something bigger, brighter, more powerful, is waiting to be ignited. I wonder what or who it will be.
I wonder what the world will look like when that sun rises.

It's subjective, the whole 'evil' thing. I tend to side with those on the edge of society; the ones doing what they've got to do to survive an unfair world. Those are powerful spirits; the ones that defy the norms. The ones that protect the common, desperate people.
Personally, I wasn't taught to believe in absolute evil or absolute good. I was raised to observe the idea of every possibility. Demons. Angels. Spirits. Unknown things. But the dichotomy of total and absolute goods and evil... it's not a spectrum I'm entirely comfortable with. It just can't be that simple. It never really is...

They'll guide you. They'll shine. They'll fade and fall. They'll timekeep and record, and they'll always dance. But they don't change anything here. Distant, dead and unreachable.
Still... we turn our eyes up to them and wonder. We let ourselves look for those answers in a void filled with impossible light. Stars of the morning, stars of the evening and those that map the night. A river of light above us. We follow along, and dream.

Honor thy Mother of Love and Beauty; thy Aunties of Endurance; thy Sisters of Ruthless Loyalty, and thy Grandmaters of Hard Lessons and Gentle Warmth.
And always, always: Stay Golden.
Blessings of wild art, pleasing music, total satisfaction, seafoam, good s*x, ageless beauty and infernal passion upon you all. Pandemos.