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.
The Eternal Apple
Cut across the core, the Star of Life.
Cut with the core, the Gate of Life.
If witches have a sacred fruit, it's the Eternal Apple. Even our afterlife is the Apple-Tree Island, where the dead eat of the Fruit of Life and grow young and full of sap again.
Asked why there were so many witches in Basque country, Pierre de Lancre—the Inquisitor who spearheaded the Basque witch-trials—replied: Are you kidding? That's Apple Country up there. Those people eat nothing but apples. No wonder they're all witches.
Indeed.
Fasting on the day of November Eve is my oldest personal custom. The last thing that I'll eat before I begin my fast at sundown tonight is an apple.
All night and all day I'll fast. The dead do not eat.
Then, in circle as we greet the New Year, I'll break my fast with a bite from the Fruit of Life.
Wishing you health, prosperity, and many apples in the year to come.
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