Baba Yaga's Lawn
You can tell which house is Baba Yagá's by the lawn. The grass around it grows so thick, so lush, and so green that (I swear) you could pasture a cow on it.
It also, I swear, grows faster than that of any other house on the block.
I should know. I'm the one that mows it.
(You've heard of Vasilissa the beautiful, right: the one who does housework for Baba Yaga?
Well, I'm Steven the grounds-keeper. I do yardwork for Baba Yaga.)
Calamities
In her shrine in Pig's Eye, MN (a.k.a. “St” Paul), Baba Yaga—the fearsome old forest-witch of Russian folklore—has been receiving prayers and offerings for more than 30 years now.
Say what you will about Old Boney Legs, she's anything but antisocial. In fact, she shares her shrine with the ancestors, the Sun, and the Moon.
Also with Poverty, Famine, Disease, and Death. Really: they've got altars and everything.
In the Yard of Baba Yaga
It's not just grass that grows richly in Baba Yaga's yard.
Now, in May, the dandelions are numerous and huge, practically the size of peonies. The nettles here sting worse than anywhere else. They also make a delicious soup.
Talking with the resident priest before I begin my tour of grounds-keeping, I shake my head.
“Whatever you're doing,” I tell him, “it sure does seem to be working.”
He grins.
"It can be dangerous, being on Baba Yaga's good side," he says.
Apotropaics
It's a very Slavic way to see things, though of course Slavs aren't the only ones to think apotropaically.
Apo-tropaic: literally, “turning away, averting.”
Keep the dangerous ones happy, and maybe they'll leave you alone.