So, I’m not dead or anything…
I’ve been busily busy trying to make a thorough go of my Personal Style blog, working at my 9-5 job, and generally fucking about and having a fairly woo-lite existence.
I also went to Finland, Sweden and Estonia for three weeks in there somewhere. These photos are of me at the Helsinki Botanic Gardens, and I’m fairly certain are me posed with some genus of Monkshood/Wolfsbane or similar. They were gorgeous, buzzing with bumble bees and bad-intent.
The gardens of Stepford Manor have been left to their own devices for much of the year, and as a result they’re a bit feral and hostile. There are poisonous spiders under every leaf, there are hated snails and slugs clustering under pot rims, and the plants are growing as they please, which is to say to propagate without really providing anything to eat.
Strangely enough, the soil has never looked healthier and is teeming with worms, my most hated of household familiars.
Spring is, however, upon us. I have planted out some 40 bulbs of my dad’s garlic, which he bought off a monk at a medieval fair. My fingers are itching to bake bread. Soon the seasonal beers from the USA will be available here in Australia, and I will begin my 31 Nights of Horror: Werewolves.
Do I miss the woo? Yes and no. It felt forced towards the time that I left it earlier this year, and disingenuous. What I truly miss, more than anything, is the voices of my beloved ones: Veles, Graveyard Dirt, Scylla, Master Cole…
I still stalk you all, obviously, so more than just those names above. I’ve just got my feet planted in another world right now.
That said’, I always have a hand thoroughly entwined with the weed-choked, gingerbread brick path upon which all my favourite dark souls walk, and I’m always just a stones throw away.
Hoping to post some travel and garden porn for you all over the rest of this month.
All my love and malicious thoughts,
The Witch of Stepford