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.
Mandrakes: Remembering Raven Grimassi
Conversations around the presenters' breakfast table at Pagan Spirit Gathering are generally pretty good, but things really kicked up a notch when someone mentioned mandrakes.
“Oh, I raise them,” said Raven Grimassi.
It turns out that raising mandrakes in New England is no easy feat. It's too cold for them to overwinter in the ground, so you have to dig them up every year. Raven used to winter his in a barrel of sand, until it was warm enough to replant them in the spring.
A lot of work, to be sure, but the up side is that, handling them so often, and watching them grow as you do, you develop a very special kind of relationship with your mandrakes.
“Do you want to see some pictures?” asked Raven.
Everyone laughed. Did we ever.
In a life spent in the Craft, some moments stand out.
There we were, a tableful of witches, oohing and aahing over pictures of mandrakes, as some might coo over pictures of grandchildren.
Hail and farewell, Raven Grimassi.
Reborn to the People.
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