„Ingredient number 5 cooked in a pretty, red pot“, a sweet voice giggles into my ear. „You‘re such a witch.“ ,
I make a face and pour the strong coffee into my favorite cup. If it makes me a witch to mix it up with milk, cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, allspice … have I forgotten something here? Yes, cocoa! Cheers! On finding a cozy feeling at the bottom of this cup!
A witch would know where to find it.
Not just the right words for its summoning, and not just the right way to stir the pot for a violet cloud.
A witch would know which tastes would work, which scents would keep a soul from leaking.
She would know which blood to cook, and whose flesh to add.
A witch would know.
And rainy days would taste like apple and cinnamon, and feel like the deepest breath.
Because a witch would know the right color, and recognize the sparkle in just the right moment.
Even in the deepest night, she would know where to look, and would find it even if only with her hands.
This is why the image of the witch stiring her pot, with eyes so otherworldly and words so often misunderstood has become a legend.
A witch knows where to look for what a heart desires.
„All I want is apples and cinnamon when it‘s raining“, I tell my witch, waiting for my magical cup of coffee to take over my soul. “Maybe for autumn my living room needs more orange. Maybe I should cook the first pumpkin before the autumn equinox.”
“Maybe the floor is lava.”
“Maybe.”
“They call this magical thinking”, Layla giggles.
Magical thinking, magical cup of coffee – I need to find some comfort!
… Finding the right taste, and scent and colors when needed is the coziness of witching.
My witching autumn desk
This was my longest quiet. My witch took a few weeks off. I have a lot of things to say, dark and urgent things! But my health made me pause everything. The first time in my life I’m saying that. I’ll be back in the next few days! Until then, enjoy the witching mood at…
Why do we stop doing things?
“When for health reasons we stop being ourselves, what is left then? ”, I complain to my witch just when the cold and dark season is ready to arrive. I am usually decorating a cake when the message I am dreading arrives. The pastry bag in hand, I read one cancellation after another. Of course,…
When we fall …
Who’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us all?Who’ll be thereIn the end? Late at nightI hear his voiceAnd I know thatHe waved her goodbyeThrough the noiseOf a world turning away. Laughter fromA window aboveBlurry lightsAnd I know thatShe gave upon loveRight there. And I wonderWho’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us…