
The Witch of Wands reaches up to the Moon. Her fire is her signal, an invitation to magic. She stands tall, reaching high.
If you need it: I see you, witch. Altar, 1st January, new year, full moon in Cancer The spell jar holds mugwort, wizened and curled, picked on new year’s eve from the Talyllyn steam train tracks, the day seven of us silently retreated together in Tywyn. Milky quartz from the stream there. Yarrow from Teangue, …