6 New Years Eve Party Recipes, --- [These look delish!!!]...

Happy New Year!!!... Hoping 2018 Will Be Great For You!!!...

"Moonstruck," --- ["You got those bad eyes, like a gypsy!"]... :D :D :D

Merry Christmas!!!...

"The Harlot's Handbook," --- Documentary, Part 2..

"The Harlot's Handbook," -- Documentary, Part 1...

A Re-play Of The Brock O 'Hurn Santa Commercial, --- [What would the holidays be without it???]...

Tatiana Romanov, --- The Beautiful One, --- [The Romanovs had 5 exceptionaly good looking children. I think Tatiana was the prettiest.]...

The Romanov Children's Belongings, --- [Interesting to see these beautiful things, but sad]...

Dark Angels, --- Part 3...

When war broke out in heaven angels battled with Lucifer and his follower angels.  Angel Michael, The Archangel, led two thirds of heaven's angels.  They defeated Lucifer and his minions.  Lucifer fell from heaven; his angels fell with him — and  instantly became Dark Angels. Dark Angels are various types, from the very highest of the high, the Seraphim and the Cherubim, Thrones and Powers, to lower angels. Lucifer is their commander, The Prince of Hell.

Dark Angels, --- Part 2...

Many cultures discuss and define Dark Angels.  In the Hindu traditions Dark Angels don't know right from wrong. But in the Christian tradition, Dark Angels chose to do evil.

The most popular Dark Angel is Lucifer.  Lucifer was the first angel to rebel against God.  He is the most beautiful angel of all and envied God so much that he wanted to receive the praise that God received.  So, he went down to the Garden to tempt the first woman.  The temptation was successful.  The woman then convinced the man to also disobey God.  

Dark Angels, From "Spirit World,"--- Part 1...

Dark angels are more beautiful and seductive than any human man could ever be.  They have figured in Gothic literature that is set in both Victorian and, especially, in modern times.

The Dark Angel is not loving or healing. Dark angels have no respect for humankind. They spend their time trying to tempt people to do wrong.  When the person sins and is hopeless ensnared the dark angel simply vanishes, returning to the spirit world.

Some of the most popular Dark Angels include:

***Abaddon – in Hebrew his name means "destruction." Abaddon is also part of the underworld where lost souls in some legends are said to lie in fire and snow. This is one of the places in Hell that Moses visited. Abaddon was a Seraphim angel in Heaven. 

***Gressil – He is also known as Cresil and is the dark angel of impurity and uncleanliness. 

***Forneus – His name originates from the Latin to translate into "oven." He is the Great Marquis of Hell and has twenty-nine legions of Dark Angels under his command.

Top 5 Lost Treasures That Haven't Been Found Yet...

The Krampus...

In folklore, Krampus is a horned, anthropomorphic figure described as "half-goat, half-demon",who, during the Christmas season, punishes children who have misbehaved, in contrast with Saint Nicholas, who rewards the well-behaved with gifts. Krampus is one of the companions of Saint Nicholas in several countries including Austria, Bavaria, Croatia, Czech Republic, Hungary, Slovenia, South Tyrol and parts of Northern Italy. The origin of the figure is unclear; some folklorists and anthropologists have postulated its pre-Christian origin.

In traditional parades and in such events as the Krampuslauf (English: Krampus run), young men dressed as Krampus participate; such events occur annually in most Alpine towns. Krampus is featured on holiday greeting cards called Krampuskarten.

Samurai Champloo Is The Only Anime Series I Like, --- [It's so well written!!!]

A young woman named Fuu is working as a waitress in a tea shop when she is abused by a band of samurai. She is saved by a mysterious rogue named Mugen and a young rōnin named Jin. Mugen attacks Jin after he proves to be a worthy opponent. The pair begin fighting one another and inadvertently cause the death of Shibui Tomonoshina, the magistrate's son. For this crime, they are to be executed. With help from Fuu, they are able to escape execution. In return, Fuu asks them to travel with her to find "the samurai who smells of sunflowers".

Setting and style

Samurai Champloo employs a blend of historical Edo-period backdrops with modern styles and references. The show relies on factual events of Edo-era Japan, such as the Shimabara Rebellion ("Unholy Union"; "Evanescent Encounter, Part I"); Dutch exclusivity in an era in which an edict restricted Japanese foreign relations ("Stranger Searching"); ukiyo-e paintings ("Artistic Anarchy"); and fictionalized versions of real-life Edo personalities like Mariya Enshirou and Miyamoto Musashi ("Elegy of Entrapment, Verse 2"). The content and accuracy of the historical content is often distorted via artistic license.

Historical context and Western influence

Samurai Champloo contains many scenes and episodes relating to historical occurrences in Japan's Edo period. In episode 5 ("Artistic Anarchy"), Fuu is kidnapped by the famous ukiyo-e painter Hishikawa Moronobu, a figure prominent in the Edo period's art scene.^[3] Episode 23 ("Baseball Blues") pins the main characters in a baseball game against Alexander Cartwright and a team of American baseball players trying to declare war on Japan.^[4] As for Western influences, the opening of the show as well as many of the soundtracks are influenced by hip hop.^[5] In episode 5, Vincent van Gogh is referenced at the end in relation to Hishikawa Moronobu's ukiyo-e paintings.^[6] A hip hop singer challenges the main characters in episode 8 ("The Art of Altercation") and uses break dance throughout.^[7] In episode 18 ("War of the Words"), graffiti tagging, a culturally Western art form, is performed by characters as an artistic expression and form of writing. The ending of the episode has Mugen writing his name on the roof of Hiroshima Castle, the palace of the daimyō in Edo Japan.^[4]

Sexuality

The topics of sex and sexual orientation are shown multiple times in Samurai Champloo. One topic that is frequently shown regarding sexuality is the use of brothels and prostitution. Brothels are seen in multiple episodes and are significant to the plot. The show includes Yakuza brothel ownership, characters being sold into prostitution and other issues regarding the subject. Another topic in the show is homosexuality, with one episode revolving around a homosexual Dutchman. This episode makes the claim that Edo-period Japan had liberal expressions of homosexuality that can most easily be compared to ancient Greece.

Characters

The main cast from left to right: Jin, Mugen and Fuu.

Main article: List of Samurai Champloo characters

• Fuu: A spirited 15-year-old girl, Fuu asks Mugen and Jin to help her find a sparsely described man she calls "the samurai who smells of sunflowers". Her father left her and her mother for an unknown reason. Without her father around to support them, Fuu and her mother led a difficult life until her mother died of illness. After a not-so-successful stint as a teahouse waitress/dancer she saves Mugen and Jin from execution and recruits them as her bodyguards. A flying squirrel named "Momo" (short for momonga, "flying squirrel") accompanies her, inhabiting her kimono and frequently leaping out to her rescue. Her name, Fuu, is the character for "wind". In the title cards, her totem is Sunflowers.
• Jin: Jin is a 20-year-old reserved rōnin who carries himself in the conventionally stoic manner of a samurai of the Tokugawa era. Using his waist-strung daishō, he fights in the traditional kenjutsu style of a samurai trained in a prominent, sanctioned dojo. He is pursued by several members of his dojo as he had killed their master in self-defense. He wears glasses, an available but uncommon accessory in Edo-era Japan. Spectacles, called "Dutch glass merchandise" ("Oranda gyoku shinajina" in Japanese) at the time, were imported from the Netherlands early in the Tokugawa period and became more widely available as the 17th century progressed. His pair of glasses is purely ornamental, as Mugen later found out after getting a chance to peer through them. Although pictured in advertisements as smoking a kiseru, he was never depicted with one in the series. In the title cards his totem is a koi fish. He is named after one of the seven virtues of the samurai in Bushido, "Jin" (Benevolence).
• Mugen: A brash vagabond from the penal colony Ryukyu Islands, Mugen is a 19-year-old wanderer with a wildly unconventional fighting style. Rude, lewd, vulgar, conceited, temperamental and psychotic, he is something of an antihero. He is fond of fighting and has a tendency to pick fights for petty reasons. It is implied in a few episodes that he is also a womanizer, with his libido sometimes getting the better of him. He wears metal-soled geta and carries an exotic sai-handled sword on his back. In Japanese, the word mugen means "infinite" (literally, "without limit" or "limitless"). He was a former pirate. In the title cards, his totem is the rooster.^[8]

Apart from this trio, other characters tend to appear only once or twice throughout the series.

Dressing Up A 1690 Lady: A Court & Riding Attire...

Mysteries of Asia, --- Secrets of the Great Wall...

" FUNKY FAIRY TALES: Rapunzel, Her Prince & The Witch, - Part 2..."

Well, his wife Marie had no sympathy for Sam's poor swollen nose.  In fact, she bitched so much about the witch's rapion Sam was about ready to leave her, pregnancy or not!  But, being a decent man, he didn't.  Instead, he sighed very deeply and told her that if she simply couldn't shut up about her craving he would dare, he would be so frightened, BUT he would dare to steal some of the rapion from the witches garden.

"Oh, would you REALLY do that for me?," Marie gushed, wringing her hands.

"Yes," Sam nodded.

So, on a dark night a little while later Sam sneaked into the witches garden with a basket and knife to chop the rapion.  Unfortunately, no sooner had he put a few leaves of it in his basket than the head of the witch popped out her window.

"AH-HA!...  AH-HA-HA!," she yelled, racing out to the garden.  "YOU SKUNKY THIEF!  I have a good mind to turn you into the magistrate!  Or perhaps I'll just turn you into a bug!"

The witch, whose named was Esmera, grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair and shook him so hard he dropped his basket and knife.

"Please!," Sam cried,  "I didn't want to come over to steal your rapion!  My wife is pregnant and she nagged me about it until I thought I would go crazy!  It was to shut her up that I agreed to take it!"

The witch let go of Sam's hair.  She brushed off her long black velvet skirts which had become quite dirty from the soil she had stirred up.  "Well, I can understand how a woman can make a man nuts.  I'm rather good at that myself, aided by magic, --- of course..."

"Of course, Madame Witch." Sam bowed.

"You seem to be a goodly sort, nice manners too."  The witch rubbed her chin.  "Alright, alright, you can have some of my rapion.  Fill your basket."

Sam's eyes went wide.  "I can REALLY do that?"

Esmera, frowned.  "Didn't I tell you you could?  Don't try my patience!   But, --- here is the condition..."

"Oh, boy, I knew this was coming!"  Sam shook his head.  The witch made a swipe at him; he ducked.

She put her hands on her hips, stuck out her luscious lips.  "Your wife is with child..."

"Yes..."

"I've wanted a daughter for many years.  If the baby is a boy you can keep it and the rapion for free.  BUT if it is a girl, --- she's mine!"

"NO-NO-NO!," Sam wailed.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic!   It's a done deal!  You'll probably have a boy, with my luck!"  Esmera stomped her foot, turned her back and went inside her house.

Sam picked up the basket of rapion and went back to Marie with the news that the witch had claimed their child, --- if the baby was a girl.

FUNKY FAIRY TALES: Rapunzel, Her Prince & The Witch, - Part 1...

Rapunzel was an absolutely gorgeous golden blond.  Of course, her hair was long, long, very thick and she usually wore it in a rope-like braid.  That was good because people climbed up it.  Naturally, it had a lot of body too to be able to support the average person's weight.  And, Rapunzel was a robust girl, from isometric exercises, all that leaning backward holding herself steady while the witch AND, the Prince, a big muscular guy, climbed...

But, to the start of the story:

Rapunzel's mother was a selfish thing, very difficult, especially when she was pregnant.  Her poor husband was a meek sweet guy. The two lived outside a seveneenth century french town in a pretty cottage, an almost perfect location.  I say almost perfect because they lived next door to a witch.  Yes,---a real live witch, not just an herbalist. And, that witch had a wonderful garden...

Rapunzel's mother had the typical cravings that pregnant women often have.  In her case, the cravings  were accentuated BECAUSE she absolutely couldn't have the food she wanted!  Everyday she looked out the window of the charming cottage and sighed deeply.  "If I can't have some of that rapion that grows in the witches garden I will die!"  Now, rapion, if you don't know, is a leafy spinach-type vegetable.  It's delicious when lightly steamed with butter or served raw with olive oil and red wine vinegar.

Rapunzel's father rolled his eyes.  "My dear wife, that rapion belongs to the witch.  You know you can't have any!   She's a witch, for heaven's sake!"

"But, Sam!..." (Sam was Rapunzel's father's name; her mother's name was Marie.)  "Sam, I will DIE if I can't have a bowl of that rapion!"

"No!  Can you imagine how afraid I am to even see her out there weeding her garden by the light of the waning moon?"

"Sam, I told you I will DIE!  I WILL DIE!"

"No, you WON'T!"

" I WILL!"

And, Marie began to lose weight, which as you know is not good for a pregnant woman.  So finally Sam, very frightened, went to knock on the witches door.

The witch opened it, peering out, her viridian green eyes lovely, but cruel.   "What do you want, Fool?"

"I,---uh...  My wife...  She's with child and she has a craving for some the rapion that's growing in your garden."

"So what?  Get the hell off my property!," the witch yelled, shaking her long light auburn hair as her house fox tried to bite Sam's ankle.

"Does this mean you aren't going to give me any of it?," Sam asked, dodging the fox's teeth..

"ARE YOU SIMPLE?  OF COURSE NOT!"  

And, she slammed the door in Sam's face, practically cutting off his nose.  Sam rubbed his sore nose and sadly went back to his wife.

My Kinswoman Wrote The Fairy Tale "Persinette," Which The Grimm Brothers Adapted To "Rapunzel"...

My kinswoman Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force or Mademoiselle de La Force (1654–1724) was a French novelist and poet. Her best-known work was her 1698 fairy tale Persinette which was adapted by the Brothers Grimm in 1812 as the story Rapunzel.

She was the daughter of François de Caumont de La Force (eighth son of Marshal de La Force), marquis de Castelmoron and of Marguerite de Viçose. Raised as a Huguenot Protestant, she converted to Catholicism in 1686 and received a pension of 1000 écus from Louis XIV. Like other famous women writers of the 17th century, she was named a member of the Academy of the Ricovrati of Padua.

Her first novels were in the popular vein of "histoires secrètes", short novels recounting the "secret history" of a famous person and linking the action generally to an amorous intrigue, such as Histoire secrete de Bourgogne (1694), Histoire secrète de Henri IV, roi de Castille (1695), Histoire de Marguerite de Valois, reine de Navarre (1696).

She had a long affair with the much younger Charles Briou, finally managing to marry him secretly with the king's permission, but her family and his father intervened to have the marriage annulled.

In 1697, due to gossip and scandalous rumors about her, the king forced Mademoiselle de La Force to take to the Benedictine abbey of Gercy-en-Brie or risk losing her pension, and it was from here that she wrote her memoirs: Pensées chrétiennes de défunte de Mlle de La Force.

She is also well known for participating in the 17th century vogue of contes des fées along with Henriette-Julie de Murat, Marie Catherine d'Aulnoy, Marie-Jeanne Lhéritier, and Charles Perrault. She wrote Les Contes des Contes (1698) and Les Contes des Fées. These works included the tale Fairer-than-a-Fairy.

Her novels had a great deal of success in Europe in the 18th century.

15 Reasons Why We're Thankful For Books...

I Just LOVE This Spunky Little Tabby!!!... :)

I'll Be Going To The Northeast Geek Con Tomorrow As Maleficent...

"The Life of Mountain Men," --- Full Documentary...

"Apache," --- 1969 Song...

"Legends of The Fall," --- [Ending scene]...

One of the most satisfying endings I've ever seen, --- from one of my favorite movies.

Mary Jemmison's Account Of Her Capture By The Seneca...

"The party that took us consisted of six Indians and four Frenchmen, who immediately commenced plundering, as I just observed, and took what they considered most valuable; consisting principally of bread, meal, and meat. Having taken as much provision as they could carry, they set out with their prisoners in great haste, for fear of detection, and soon entered the woods.

On our march that day, an Indian went behind us with a whip, with which he frequently lashed the children, to make them keep up. In this manner we traveled till dark, without a mouthful of food or a drop of water, although we had not eaten since the night before. Whenever the little children cried for water, the Indians would make them drink urine, or go thirsty. At night they encamped in the woods, without fire and without shelter, where we were watched with the greatest vigilance. Extremely fatigued, and very hungry, we were compelled to lie upon the ground, without supper or a drop of water to satisfy the cravings of our appetites. As in the daytime, so the little ones were made to drink urine in the night, if they cried for water. Fatigue alone brought us a little sleep for the refreshment of our weary limbs; and at the dawn of day we were again started on our march, in the same order that we had proceeded the day before.

About sunrise we were halted, and the Indians gave us a full breakfast of provision that they had brought from my father's house. Each of us, being very hungry, partook of this bounty of the Indians, except father, who was so much overcome with his situation, so much exhausted by anxiety and grief, that silent despair seemed fastened upon his countenance, and he could not be prevailed upon to refresh his sinking nature by the use of a morsel of food. Our repast being finished, we again resumed our march; and before noon passed a small fort, that I heard my father say was called Fort Canagojigge.

That was the only time that I heard him speak from the time we were taken till we were finally separated the following night.

Toward evening, we arrived at the border of a dark and dismal swamp, which was covered with small hemlocks or some other evergreen, and various kinds of bushes, into which we were conducted; and having gone a short distance, we stopped to encamp for the night.

Here we had some bread and meat for supper; but the dreariness of our situation, together with the uncertainty under which we all labored, as to our future destiny, almost deprived us of the sense of hunger, and destroyed our relish for food.

As soon as I had finished my supper, an Indian took off my shoes and stockings, and put a pair of moccasins on my feet, which my mother observed; and believing that they would spare my life, even if they should destroy the other captives, addressed me, as near as I can remember, in the following words:

'My dear little Mary, I fear that the time has arrived when we must be parted for ever. Your life, my child, I think will be spared; but we shall probably be tomahawked here in this lonesome place by the Indians. Oh! how can I part with you, my darling? What will become of my sweet little Mary? Oh! how can I think of your being continued in captivity, without a hope of your being rescued? Oh! that death had snatched you from my embraces in your infancy: the pain of parting then would have been pleasing to what It now is; and I should have seen the end of your troubles! Alas, my dear! my heart bleeds at the thought of what awaits you; but, if you leave us, remember, my child, your own name, and the names of your father and mother. Be careful and not forget your English tongue. If you shall have an opportunity to get away from the Indians don't try to escape; for if you do they will find and destroy you. Don't forget, my little daughter, the prayers that I have learned you - say them often: be a good child, and God will bless you! May God bless you, my child, and make you comfortable and happy.'

During this time, the Indians stripped the shoes and stockings from the little boy that belonged to the woman who was taken with us, and put moccasins on his feet, as they had done before on mine. I was crying. An Indian took the little boy and myself by the hand, to lead us off from the company, when my mother exclaimed, 'Don't cry, Mary! - don't cry, my child! God will bless you! Farewell - farewell!'

The Indian led us some distance into the bushes or woods, and there lay down with us to spend the night. The recollection of parting with my tender mother kept me awake, while the tears constantly flowed from my eyes. A number of times in the night, the little boy begged of me earnestly to run away with him, and get clear of the Indians; but remembering the advice I had so lately received, and knowing the dangers to which we should be exposed, in traveling without a path and without a guide, through a wilderness unknown to us, I told him that I would not go, and persuaded him to lie still till morning.

My suspicion as to the fate of my parents proved too true; for soon after I left them they were killed and scalped, together with Robert, Matthew, Betsey, and the woman and her two children, and mangled in the most shocking manner

After a hard day's march we encamped in a thicket, where the Indians made a shelter of boughs, and then built a good fire to warm and dry our benumbed limbs and clothing; for it had rained some through the day. Here we were again fed as before. When the Indians had finished their supper, they took from their baggage a number of scalps, and went about preparing them for the market, or to keep without spoiling, by straining them over small hoops which they prepared for that purpose, and then drying and scraping them by the fire.

Having put the scalps, yet wet and bloody, upon the hoops, and stretched them to their full extent, they held them to the fire till they were partly dried, and then, with their knives, commenced scraping off the flesh; and in that way they continued to work, alternately drying and scraping them, till they were dry and clean. That being done, they combed the hair in the neatest manner, and then painted it and the edges of the scalps, yet on the hoops, red. Those scalps I knew at the time must have been taken from our family, by the color of the hair. My mother's hair was red; and I could easily distinguish my father's and the children's from each other. That sight was most appalling; yet I was obliged to endure it without complaining. In the course of the night, they made me to understand that they should not have killed the family, if the whites had not pursued them."

"Stolen Women, Captured Hearts," - Movie Ending...

Anna knows she belongs with Tokalah.

The Wisdom Of Mother Goose...

For every problem under the sun there is a solution, or there is none... If there is one, go and find it...  If there is none, never mind it."  --- Mother Goose.

"Stolen Women Captured Hearts," - Listen To Your Heart...

"The Witches Of Wildcroft Cove," --- Chapter 4...

  

   When the average person discovers you’re a witch this question often comes up...  "Do you practice 'skyclad'?"  Ravenstar Coven's answer to that is,--- no, we don't work naked, --- not ever.!  You would be surprised at the disappointed looks on faces when we say this, but maybe you wouldn't.  Most folks love a scandalous things!  But, our coven unanimously agreed that we would wear clothes.  There was no vote.  There never is.  It was simply agreed.  Really, --- New England has far too cold a climate for skyclad!

   Gran was bustling about hours before the celebration, from dawn, actually, as she usually does for any celebration.  Tatiana and I helped her put together the nine grains with which to bake the bread for Lammas, the first harvest.  For the grains we used wheat, rye, barley, millet, flax, rice, corn meal, oats and even acorns, soaked for days and days to remove their tannic acid and then ground to flour.

    Acorns are used, the fruit the oak, a very masculine tree, in honor of the stag god, consort of the moon goddess.  The goddess is naturally depicted as the huntress, Diana; but, of course, she has many other names.  The god is usually thought of as Herne.  Our Lammas bread was made with plenty of eggs to bind all those coarse grains together and it was heavy on the wheat.  It also contained sunflower seeds and black and white raisins.  Many of the long and thick loaves were placed on the altar, which was piled high with apples, grapes and nuts in their shells.  There were bottles of juices, rose wine and imported ale because it's traditional and part of the ritual to have "cakes and ale" afterwards.  Things went well.  Tall bamboo torches lit the area where the tables had been set.  White, black, gold, orange, brown and red candles were shoved into empty wine bottles filled with multi-colored sands.  They too provided illumination.  

   Many of us were dressed in the flowing robes of our choice.  Tatiana wore cream colored muslin trimmed with chartreuse fabric leaves.  I was gaudy in crimson, brown and purple silk.  Gran wore black satin with her braided silver cord belt, sliver necklaces and strings of garnets.  Bertram was in rust brown looking like a hunter, but with much gold jewelry, Yolanda in forest green and with her big, gleaming dematoid garnet brooch.  Maeve was in flaming orange, matching her orange hair, and with many jangling charm bracelets on her arms.  But, aside from her typical flamboyance and strident voice, which was loud as a bullhorn and as abrasive as a steel scouring pad, if a scouring pad could talk.  She was pretty normal, - for her, that is.  The other members of the coven were not as spectacularly dressed.  Abigail Cummins wore her usual hippie-style vintage bell bottoms, leather fringes and love beads.  Dave Svenson wore jeans, but also fur and strips of leather as his Nordic tradition warranted.

   We made crowns of twisted grape vines and thin flexible maple branches; there were stalks of wheat and bright zinnias for anyone who wanted to wave them about.  We dipped silky brushes in silver, gold, light blue and lavender paint and on our faces and bodies put magical spirals and stars.  The women painted their legs.  The men painted their chests.  I asked James, who showed up after a while, if he wanted his chest painted, but he refused with a charming smile on his exceptionally handsome face.  Still, when he came near our huge balfire, where we were cavorting and it was almost as bright as day and hot as a California beach, he took off his shirt.

   The sight of James' magnificent and shining chest was atremendous charge for me and I went to get him a big cold mug of ale.  I was rewarded with a gentle casual kiss on the lips which literally took my breath away.  James' warm arm went around my waist.  Then, he grinned, took a swig of ale, licked his top lip, laughed, and left to get a plate of food from the banquet tables.  I just stood there stupidly with my mouth open.  

   Although our celebrations are only for coven members sometimes very good friends who are sympathetic toward our beliefs, like James, and the coven's close family members are invited.  Children of coven members are always welcome, if they are well-behaved.  James said he was very curious about the Craft.  He stood apart, leaning against a tree with a sardonic expression on his face.  I knew from the cross around his neck and the saint's medals on the same silver chain that he was a practicing Catholic.

   But, when we started drumming to raise energy James came forward to beat enthusiastically on my bongos.  Tatiana drummed on her Egyptian domek.  I danced very sensually with my vintage castanets and with the zills or finger cymbals.  Gran was at her Nigerian slit drum which could be heard over all other percussion instruments.  I danced with Tatiana, around and around the enormous balfire.

   It was very early in the morning, about three o'clock, when Gran, Tatiana and me were cleaning up and carrying the holiday things from the woods back to the house, with the help of a smiling, joking and very pleasant James, when we saw a figure dart out of the shadows near the front steps.  The person was carrying a big canvas sack over his or her shoulder. The moon appeared from under gray clouds revealing the shocked face of Travis Hayko, his eyes wide.  James dropped the folding chairs he was toting and ran toward him, chasing him toward the shadows of tall trees near road.  The two figures merged.  Then, James let out a sharp cry, his body folded up and he dropped instantly to the ground.

   Tatiana got to him first.  She was rolling him to his back when I ran up.  I covered my mouth and gasped as I looked down at him.  A switchblade stuck out of James' side, a stain of dark blood seeping rapidly into the ground.  James' beautiful face was set in a grimace, but he made no sound.

  Gran pointed a long finger back toward the house,- "Run, Tatiana!  Call 911!  Hurry!  HURRY!  OH, DO, DO HURRY!"

   When the average person discovers you’re a witch this question often comes up...  "Do you practice 'skyclad'?"  Ravenstar Coven's answer to that is,--- no, we don't work naked, --- not ever.!  You would be surprised at the disappointed looks on faces when we say this, but maybe you wouldn't.  Most folks love a scandalous things!  But, our coven unanimously agreed that we would wear clothes.  There was no vote.  There never is.  It was simply agreed.  Really, --- New England has far too cold a climate for skyclad!

   Gran was bustling about hours before the celebration, from dawn, actually, as she usually does for any celebration.  Tatiana and I helped her put together the nine grains with which to bake the bread for Lammas, the first harvest.  For the grains we used wheat, rye, barley, millet, flax, rice, corn meal, oats and even acorns, soaked for days and days to remove their tannic acid and then ground to flour.

    Acorns are used, the fruit the oak, a very masculine tree, in honor of the stag god, consort of the moon goddess.  The goddess is naturally depicted as the huntress, Diana; but, of course, she has many other names.  The god is usually thought of as Herne.  Our Lammas bread was made with plenty of eggs to bind all those coarse grains together and it was heavy on the wheat.  It also contained sunflower seeds and black and white raisins.  Many of the long and thick loaves were placed on the altar, which was piled high with apples, grapes and nuts in their shells.  There were bottles of juices, rose wine and imported ale because it's traditional and part of the ritual to have "cakes and ale" afterwards.  Things went well.  Tall bamboo torches lit the area where the tables had been set.  White, black, gold, orange, brown and red candles were shoved into empty wine bottles filled with multi-colored sands.  They too provided illumination.  

   Many of us were dressed in the flowing robes of our choice.  Tatiana wore cream colored muslin trimmed with chartreuse fabric leaves.  I was gaudy in crimson, brown and purple silk.  Gran wore black satin with her braided silver cord belt, sliver necklaces and strings of garnets.  Bertram was in rust brown looking like a hunter, but with much gold jewelry, Yolanda in forest green and with her big, gleaming dematoid garnet brooch.  Maeve was in flaming orange, matching her orange hair, and with many jangling charm bracelets on her arms.  But, aside from her typical flamboyance and strident voice, which was loud as a bullhorn and as abrasive as a steel scouring pad, if a scouring pad could talk.  She was pretty normal, - for her, that is.  The other members of the coven were not as spectacularly dressed.  Abigail Cummins wore her usual hippie-style vintage bell bottoms, leather fringes and love beads.  Dave Svenson wore jeans, but also fur and strips of leather as his Nordic tradition warranted.

   We made crowns of twisted grape vines and thin flexible maple branches; there were stalks of wheat and bright zinnias for anyone who wanted to wave them about.  We dipped silky brushes in silver, gold, light blue and lavender paint and on our faces and bodies put magical spirals and stars.  The women painted their legs.  The men painted their chests.  I asked James, who showed up after a while, if he wanted his chest painted, but he refused with a charming smile on his exceptionally handsome face.  Still, when he came near our huge balfire, where we were cavorting and it was almost as bright as day and hot as a California beach, he took off his shirt.

   The sight of James' magnificent and shining chest was atremendous charge for me and I went to get him a big cold mug of ale.  I was rewarded with a gentle casual kiss on the lips which literally took my breath away.  James' warm arm went around my waist.  Then, he grinned, took a swig of ale, licked his top lip, laughed, and left to get a plate of food from the banquet tables.  I just stood there stupidly with my mouth open.  

   Although our celebrations are only for coven members sometimes very good friends who are sympathetic toward our beliefs, like James, and the coven's close family members are invited.  Children of coven members are always welcome, if they are well-behaved.  James said he was very curious about the Craft.  He stood apart, leaning against a tree with a sardonic expression on his face.  I knew from the cross around his neck and the saint's medals on the same silver chain that he was a practicing Catholic.

   But, when we started drumming to raise energy James came forward to beat enthusiastically on my bongos.  Tatiana drummed on her Egyptian domek.  I danced very sensually with my vintage castanets and with the zills or finger cymbals.  Gran was at her Nigerian slit drum which could be heard over all other percussion instruments.  I danced with Tatiana, around and around the enormous balfire.

   It was very early in the morning, about three o'clock, when Gran, Tatiana and me were cleaning up and carrying the holiday things from the woods back to the house, with the help of a smiling, joking and very pleasant James, when we saw a figure dart out of the shadows near the front steps.  The person was carrying a big canvas sack over his or her shoulder. The moon appeared from under gray clouds revealing the shocked face of Travis Hayko, his eyes wide.  James dropped the folding chairs he was toting and ran toward him, chasing him toward the shadows of tall trees near road.  The two figures merged.  Then, James let out a sharp cry, his body folded up and he dropped instantly to the ground.

   Tatiana got to him first.  She was rolling him to his back when I ran up.  I covered my mouth and gasped as I looked down at him.  A switchblade stuck out of James' side, a stain of dark blood seeping rapidly into the ground.  James' beautiful face was set in a grimace, but he made no sound.

  Gran pointed a long finger back toward the house,- "Run, Tatiana!  Call 911!  Hurry!  HURRY!  OH, DO, DO HURRY!"