Thank you, Goddess, for all these things

for popcorn, peanut-butter and good wine, but not all at the same time.

for knowing how my particular stubbornness works. You got me elbow deep in the fiber arts again, and then drew me like a cat pouncing on a string to Ravelry, to making plans for Rhinebeck, and then, making me leap high in the air, to renting a rustic cabin in the woods.  I know I find all these things sacred.  I am a Witch, after all. Of course I long to spend time surrounded by Your beautiful woodlands. I almost had forgotten how.

And now my mind is filled with things I haven't thought about in years.  Tin chamber pots under the bed. Washing hands and face in a bucket of cold spring water. Sitting on a porch swing in the morning, drinking tea and watching the leaves fall. Making an altar of found objects.

Last year's white cottage on the banks for the creek was a stepping stone to this. So was Tuesday's dream. The person I was back then knew all of these things. Another puzzle piece falls back into place.