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.
A Day in the Life of a Sorcerer's Apprentice
One sunny afternoon just before Beltane, the coven kid and I walk over to Powderhorn Park. We're playing What's That.
What's that? I ask, pointing.
Tree, he says.
What's that? Sun. What's that? Dog.
As it happens, we arrive at the park just as the Heart of the Beast folks are starting their dress rehearsal for the upcoming May Day festivities. The kid and I sit down on the grass to watch. I take a moment to savor the fact that the ground is finally warm enough to sit on.
One by one, the animals in their costumes come on. We continue our game.
What's that? I ask.
Bird, he says. (It was Eagle.)
What's that?
Raccoon.
Deer has a nice set of antlers on him.
What's that? I ask.
God, says the kid.
I laugh and shake my head. Every little witch kid knows the Stag That Walks On Two Legs.
That's my boy, I say.
Comments
-
Please login first in order for you to submit comments
