The Witch of This Place


I went out tonight, after the board meeting, under the waning Moon, and sank into the hot tub.   I never do that without acknowledging my Swedish ancestors.

And there’s this tension, isn’t there, between those old Swedes (Go on!  Roll in the snow and then jump back into the wood-warmed water!  It’s what we’ve done for centuries!) and my more recent Southern forebears (Stay in the warm water!  That cold stuff comes down here from up North.  You don’t know where it’s been!)

Tonight, the Southerners won out, but they certainly don’t do every night.

Every morning, the sun is up a bit earlier and, every evening, the sun stays just a little bit longer.   And every morning, I take my cup of warm coffee, cradle it between my bony, old, cold hands, and watch the sun come up in the East.

I am the Witch of this place.  Dear Magical MidAtlantic, I belong, in Delta Rae’s words, to all of your mysteries.

This has all been so much fun.

Picture found here.


3 responses to “The Witch of This Place

  1. grātiās agō

  2. What a beautiful picture. I don’t have any Swedish ancestors, but my Maine roots say the Swedes are awesome. (I’ve gone from hot tub to snow to hot tub many times before!)

  3. I didn’t know where to post my comment – but, I just wanted to tell you that I LOVED your post from 1 February which has been removed. I get notifications in my email and, after reading this particular essay, I kept it. And have reread it several times. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciated it.

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