Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages and palmeres for to seken straunge strondes to ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes

I’m on my way, friends. First leg of the journey is actually me in a big wooden rocking chair, looking out on the tarmac at the AVL Regional Airport. Next stop Hotlanta Georgia. But I got here very early and am enjoying relaxing and chatting with friends on Facebook.

I have quite a trip ahead of me and have worked very hard to get things settled at home before heading out. I will be talking to other rootworkers and witches. I will be seeing wonderful things in libraries and museums. I will be meeting old friends and new ones.

I’ll even see some standing stones, I shouldn’t wonder.

Today, as I was sitting in this comfy chair (Python), I did a quick Google search and read the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, bless old Chaucer’s randy little heart. It did me a power of good, as they say.

I have been longing to go on pilgrimage, to find the roots of my own roots, to seek strange strands. And heaven knows, Weston-super-Mare is a strange strand.

More as we go…and as there is wi-fi to send it.


I call this little figurine the Baby Baba Yaga.


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