feather and fur and bone and skin


“I would like to request that you remove the dead thing from the fridge as soon as possible please”, were the words the husband woke me with that morning. He just loves it when I bring home dead things. Cin and the Mistress of the Box had found the skink and brought it to me the day before for burial. I am an animist, you see, and so for me everything has a soul.

I had brought the little guy home and put him in the refrigerator until I could find time to lay him in the garden. Apparently the time was the now.. the husband having drawn the line at it being snuggled in a lunch box alongside the leftovers. The conversations of a witch’s household are just so much more interesting  than the usual “how was your day” and such.

I got out of bed thinking about the baby hawthorn, the tree I hope to grow old(er) with. She is a special tree and the impulse to bury him at her feet was niggling. I am entering a new phase in my mundane and it seemed this was to be my start. I was leaving behind some poisonous things that had filled my life for so many years and entering the new. I had also passed through much heartache and death. My time with the man of shadow has passed with many lessons learned and I am approaching that halfway point shown to me by the cards. It seemed right that I would be laying to rest one gifted to me by some of my greatest support.

I made a new batch of Florida water from the first flush of roses and some beautiful peonies that the Mistress of the Box had sent. I dropped them in the spring water with a few bits from the garden.. the last wisteria bloom and some jasmine flowers. Jasmine, I have mentioned, always makes me think of death. It was perfect. I topped it off with some of the remaining honey pepper vodka from my soon to be old boss and set it away to do its thing. I gathered up the unused remains from the crow wing carnage, the little skink, and the last peony left in good condition to bury by the hawthorn. I left an offering of wine and honey.. then I went on about my day.


3 thoughts on “feather and fur and bone and skin

  1. I do not drink alcohol (odd, considering the country I live in); but I will happily raise a glass of water to the spirit you honored, may it continue on its journey knowing that there were others who held compassion and respect for it; to the plight of your husband, may he recover from the disappointment that not all things in a witch’s refrigerator are meant to be dined upon; and finally to your spirit, which you honored by honoring another 🙂

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