Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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Hedge Telegraph

 A certification label for the sustainable management of hedgerows | The  European Network for Rural Development (ENRD)

Darling, don't be naive.

Two gay guys, walking down the hall at Paganicon, holding hands? Everyone saw us.

Believe me, we're already an item.

I know we're not an item. You know we're not an item.

But trust me: according to the hedge telegraph, we're an item. Just wait. You'll see.

Oh, come on, you're not that new to the community. It's the pagan equivalent of what my Indigenous friends call the rez telegraph: that uncanny, simultaneous ability of everyone in your entire community to know every single detail of your most intimate personal life. Never, ever underestimate the power of the hedge telegraph.

How it actually operates is one of the Greater Mysteries, for sure. Which isn't to say that it always gets things right, of course.

Hey, just trying to keep you on your toes. By the time you get home, they'll already know all about it, so you might as well be prepared. Forewarned is forearmed.

Anyway, it's so good to see you again. Hey, happy Ostara.






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Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.


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