The harvest moon rose swollen and orange making its way around the mountain as it climbed higher and higher into the purple sky of dusk. It was time to keep my pact with the full moon. Rummaging, I find the dittany, the mugwort, the rue and wormwood for the moon and ground them together with my mortar and pestle. I pluck leaves of fresh rue and clary sage from my garden and place them on the altar. I call the guardians and the directions with my blue deer drum dyed with indigo and belladonna berries. I burn the herbs. I summon Old Man and Old Woman. They’ve been waiting for me.
“By silver and stane may the water be sained.” I take off my robe. I anoint my forehead, my neck, my heart, my belly, my feet with the holy water. In the palm of my hand I mix more water with earth from the forest and make a cross of it on my forehead and smear the rest across my chest. I ask for what I seek.
I’ve been putting it off. I know I won’t like the answers. I shuffle the cards three times three. I deal them out and I look. I write down what they say so I can’t ignore the messages.
I put the cards back in the deck and shuffle again. I ask if there’s anything else I need to know. Three cards fall out in order. I write down their meanings too. Finished, I thank Old Man and Old Woman for their presence and aid. I burn more herbs and resins and pour out a libation of spirits into the goblet made by my crone friend. I take a sip and it burns down my throat and makes me dizzy. The gate is closed. I say my farewells to the guardians.
I hang up my drum. I blow out the candles. I retrieve my silver ring from the holy water. Now to let it all wash away with the water still wet on my skin. Maybe a little late night reading to soothe the soul…