Our Goddess is not for the cultivation of men. Nor does she reside in the houses of men. She is not the giver of grain, the one who wears the corn wreaths in her tresses. No, not that one. Where to find her you may ask? Look on the mountain side between your awe and your terror. Look to the circling of large shadows cast upon the ground. Look into the shadows of the mountain. The ones that never see the sun.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Friday, January 1, 2016
|"The Sundering", by Maya Grey, Midwinter 2015|
Copyright Peacock & Snake
Monday, November 9, 2015
Driving home today I noticed a fog rolling in from the mountains carrying with it the promise of rain and other things. This fog was other worldly, twisting and turning and moving fast and just like images in clouds I could see images dancing within the fog....images of things to come...of the beginning of The Hunt. The breath of Gwyn ap Nudd.....cold and yet full of passion and death and shades and fae and beloved moisture. Hail and welcome.
|By Maya Chalee Grey....copyright Peacock & Snake....|