I’ve taken a bit of a hiatus from most projects other than work lately, and that’s included magical projects. But it’s getting to be that time of year when I start thinking about wrapping sinew around stones and stinking up the house with incense. I love autumn: it just smells like magic. I know it’s probably cliched and silly of me, but something about the pressure of the air itself kind of feels magical.
I’m nearly done with my book on the Lenormand, and will be submitting it soon. I would have finished early, but a divination indicated that I had a problem with the text, and when I looked closely I realized I did. A lot of it just isn’t on the page yet. So it needs another swipe through. When I’ll get to that I don’t know; I’m busier than a — something clever. And work pays my bills (and is a second vocation).
Still, something about this season makes me feel full of black feathers.