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The Burrow, North Boambee Valley (2025)

07/09/2025

My dearest ones, I write to you now by lamplight in the Burrow, the fire crackling low and the air so heavy with the perfume of jasmine that it seems the very walls breathe it in. The vines have burst into riotous bloom, their white stars spilling over the fence and winding round the windows, their fragrance sweet and heady as a spell of Spring itself. When I stepped barefoot into the garden at 4:08am this morning, Monday the 8th of September, the whole place was drenched in that intoxicating scent. The Full Worm Moon swelled above in Pisces, yet she was no gentle silver orb but cloaked in blood, veiled by the shadow of a total lunar eclipse. I felt the jasmine stir around me as though even the flowers were watching, leaning towards her crimson glow. The sea in the distance hushed her roar, the fae whispered among the blossoms, and I stood beneath that scarlet sky knowing I was witness to a night of endings and awakenings.

The Worm Moon, as the ancient Celts named her, is the Moon of soil and stirring life, of worms rising in the dark wet earth as the ground softens with Spring. Here in our Southern land she comes to us as herald of renewal, proof that beneath Winter’s cloak life has already been weaving. And yet eclipsed, she carried more than promise. She was a reckoning, a doorway of shadow, where what has been bound must be released, what has lingered too long must be dissolved, and what is meant to be reborn waits beneath the soil of our lives.

Her quincunx to Venus I felt in my very chest, like an ache threaded with sweetness. Venus, ever the goddess of beauty, longs to shower us with love and harmony, yet under this aspect and in the blood shadow of eclipse her gifts are unsettled. We may crave affection yet feel it slip beyond reach, doubt our worthiness, or find desire tangled in thorns. I felt it keenly as I stood in my jasmine scented garden. The yearning, the misalignment, the test of the heart. And yet in that test lies magick. For love stripped of illusion becomes truer, beauty found not in perfection but in compassion endures. Venus here whispers that it is in the shadow that we learn the depth of our capacity to love.

Mars square Jupiter thundered through the eclipse like fire meeting storm. I felt its restless crackle in the night air, urging recklessness, daring me to leap without thought, to speak without temperance. It is an aspect of danger. Rash actions, quarrels, excess, the spell cast in haste that consumes its caster. Yet within it lives immense strength, a warrior’s courage magnified, a fire that can break cages and burn away stagnation. The Moon’s blood red veil magnified it all, and I knew the choice was mine: to let its force scatter me into chaos, or to shape it with intent into change that matters.

The Magick Triangle, Venus, Neptune and Pluto in their Minor Grand Trine glimmered like a hidden sigil upon the sky, weaving across years from July 2025 to June 2028. I could feel its hum like a charm stitched into the air. Venus offers beauty and desire, Neptune gifts vision and dream, Pluto demands death and rebirth. Together they form a triangle of both blessing and peril. In its light, art may heal, passion may transform, and magick may create wonders. In its shadow, we may fall to obsession, illusion, or destructive desire. This Blood Moon awakened the first threads of its weaving, reminding us that the years ahead will be shaped by how we use this enchantment.

Above me the constellations seemed alive. Eridanus, the great celestial river, flowed across the heavens like a dark watercourse, carrying souls toward the ocean of spirit. Achernar gleamed at its end, a beacon promising light after the meandering, wisdom at the close of wandering. And there too was Phoenix, wings ablaze, eternal bird of fire, rising from her ashes. She crowned this eclipse, reminding me that nothing is truly lost, that all endings feed beginnings, that what falls away will rise again more radiant.

The meaning of this Worm Blood Moon in Pisces is as vast and deep as the tide itself. Pisces, sign of dreams and dissolution, of compassion and spirit, dissolves the boundaries of self. The Worm Moon whispers of fertility and renewal, yet the eclipse demands release and transformation. Venus unsettles our loves, Mars and Jupiter clash in fire, the Magick Triangle hums with long enchantment, Eridanus carries us onward, Achernar lights our path, and Phoenix ensures resurrection. It is a Moon of shadow and rebirth, asking us to trust the unseen, to release with courage, and to surrender to the river that carries us home.

If you feel her call, here is the spell I shall cast at the Burrow.
Take a white candle for purity, a red apple, a sprig of rosemary, and a bowl of spring water left beneath the open night sky. Light the candle. Slice the apple to reveal the star within and place it beside the flame with the rosemary. Dip your fingers into the water and anoint your brow, speaking: “As the river flows, as the phoenix rises, as the worms stir in the soil, so too do I release and renew.” Eat a slice of the apple to take into yourself the sweetness and the seed, the promise of cycles unbroken. Burn the rosemary in the flame and let the smoke curl into the air, then drop the ashes into the water. When the candle burns low, pour the water onto the earth and let the soil drink your offering.

And now, my darlings, as I sit by the hearth with the jasmine scent weaving through the rafters and the tang of woodsmoke in the air, I feel the echo of the eclipse drumming in my veins. It was not a gentle Moon, but she was true. She stripped us bare and offered us rebirth. May you too find courage to release what is finished, to trust the flow of the river, to breathe the perfume of renewal, and to rise in your own fire. From my jasmine wreathed cottage by the sea to your own sacred spaces, I send love, magick, and blessing beneath this crimson sky.

Tori, The Burrow Witch ###ooo

23/08/2025

My beloved ones, tonight the skies descend into a velvet hush as the New Moon gathers her shadowed cloak in Mutable Earth Virgo. At 4:06 this afternoon, Saturday 23rd August, the last New Moon of Winter will breathe her secrets into the stillness. She is no ordinary moon, but a Black Moon, the rare third dark sister in a season of four, a hidden enchantress whose face is veiled deeper than the ordinary dark. The ancients whispered that such a Moon does not simply close the old cycle but pries open secret doors, summoning spirits from beneath the roots of time, inviting us to walk where mortals seldom tread. The night will be heavy with silence, yet threaded with whispers, the kind only the Fae and the wise will hear.

The Sun square Uranus is like a lightning fork cast into the marrow of the soul. It shatters complacency, cracks the shell of routine, and floods us with sudden vision. In its light we might discover wild liberation, revelations sharp and pure as crystal, and the courage to rise from our own ashes. Yet every blessing has its curse. This same strike can scatter us into chaos, leaving hearts trembling, plans sundered, and paths torn from beneath our feet. In the Black Moon’s cauldron, this aspect brews shocks of fate, gifts that feel like curses and curses that disguise their gifts.

The Sun quincunx Saturn presses iron into our bones. It demands weight, discipline, and the acceptance of burden. At its highest, this aspect forges patience and endurance, laying the stone of long roads that outlast us. But its darker echo is heavy, cloaking us in delays, suffocating duties, and the chill fear that we may never be enough. In this Black Moon’s dim flame, Saturn sits like a stern elder at the threshold, insisting we prove our worth before we may cross into Spring.

The Sun quincunx Neptune is a silken veil of glamour and deception. It casts a dreamscape across our path, shimmering with otherworldly beauty, reminding us of compassion, longing, and visions that dissolve the sharp edges of Winter’s sorrow. But its shadows are deep, luring us into illusion, drawing us towards false prophets, or binding us in lethargy and escape. Within this Moon’s black veil, Neptune’s waters are fathomless. Drink carefully, lest you forget which way is the shore.

The Sun quincunx Pluto is the rumbling of the underworld itself. It calls from caverns of bone and forgotten flame, urging us to die to what is rotting and be reborn. In its lightless blessing, we are given power, intensity, the ability to burn away the false and to claim the hidden jewel of transformation. But its curse is as sharp as a serpent’s bite. It tempts us into obsession, control, and battles for dominance that consume our spirit. Tonight, beneath this Black Moon, Pluto’s gaze is unblinking, and he will have his sacrifice, whether willing or torn from our grasp.

Fixed Star Regulus, the Heart of the Lion, pulses in the heavens, lending its regal fire to this Moon. It blesses with nobility, courage, and sovereign light, yet carries the warning of ruin through vengeance or pride. To take Regulus’s gift, one must hold it gently, as a flame that burns the arrogant. In the depths of this Black Moon, Regulus glows as a secret ember for those who dare to lead with humility, strength tempered with grace.

The long weaving of Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto in Minor Grand Trine has been a tapestry of quiet but inexorable change, and now this New Moon knots the strands into a Model Aspect Pattern, a sacred geometry in the sky. This is the loom of the Fates, where rebellion, vision, and transformation are braided into a design that touches both the mortal and the unseen. Such patterns bring wonder and danger. They open portals, but they also stir forces too great for frail hands. Under this Black Moon, the very air hums with destiny’s weave.

As a whole, this New Moon in Virgo, last of Winter and rare Black Moon, is a crossing place, a dark river between death and birth. Its blessing is profound: liberation from false skins, noble strength, the weaving of vast powers into form, the promise of rebirth as the Earth herself begins to stir. Its curse is equally potent: upheaval that rends our stability, burdens that break the spirit, illusions that lead us astray, shadows that grip and will not let go. This Moon is a black mirror of the soul, showing what must be surrendered and what waits beyond the gate. It is both a poison and a potion, both a death and a dawning.

And for those who would dare to harness this Black Moon’s spell, gather rosemary for sharp vision, sea salt for the breaking of chains, dried jasmine to carry Winter’s death into Spring’s promise, and a silver coin to purchase the blessing of unseen guides. Place all within a dark bowl of pure water, and under the night sky lift it in your hands. Whisper thrice the truth of what you would shed, and thrice the seed of what you would summon. Then pour the water at the roots of an ancient tree, leaving the coin as tithe for the spirits. In doing so, you trade with the hidden powers, offering the past to the roots and calling the future up through the branches.

May the Black Moon’s shadow swallow what is false, and may its silence breathe enchantment into what is true. Walk gently, my darlings, for tonight the Fae and the Fates are close, and the night belongs to them as much as to us.

Tori, The Burrow Witch ###ooo

08/08/2025

My darling ones, it is the eve of the great Winter's ending breath, and the wind carries whispers through the silver bare branches that the Moon of Ice is rising once more. She will bloom in her frozen fullness tomorrow, Saturday the 9th of August, at 5:55pm, in the sign of Fixed Air Aquarius, and oh how the ancestors once knew her power. This is the last Full Moon of Winter, when the bones of the Earth still sleep but the dreams of Spring begin to stir like tiny snowdrops in the dark. The Celts named her The Moon of Ice, for she governs the realm of endings and thawings, of crystalline clarity, of frigid release before the fire of life returns. And this year, her light falls across a sky rich with omens and portents, the stars humming their ancient songs into the deepening dusk.

Above us now hangs a Grand Trine in the element of Air, weaving together Mars, Uranus, and Pluto in a gleaming triangle of magickal momentum. This is a breath of wind that slices through illusion, that rushes into the mind like a prophecy. Mars lends us courage and the desire to act, Uranus whispers revolution and freedom, and Pluto brings the alchemy of death and rebirth. Together they open the way for ideas that change the world, visions that refuse to remain shackled. This is the witch’s breath, the seer’s fire, the prophet’s wind. Yet be wary, for when the mind races too fast, it may become unanchored. Ground yourself with earth and bone, with herb and hearth, lest you be swept into a storm of thought and forget the still centre of your being.

And yet this Moon does not rise unopposed, for Mars faces two great Titans in the sky. Saturn and Neptune. Each one a shadow and a test. Mars opposite Saturn forms a sharp line of tension, like a sword pressing to a shield. It warns of obstacles, of delays, of the weight of responsibility pressing against the wild desire for freedom. Here, the warrior is asked not to rush, but to consider. Action must be tempered with wisdom. Courage must be matched with discipline. A spell cast in haste may backfire. A word spoken too sharply may wound more deeply than intended. But if we meet this opposition with patience, we may forge a strength that is unbreakable.

Mars also opposes Neptune, the weaver of dreams and illusions, who rises now from the ocean’s depths to cast her misty glamour. This aspect can blur our instincts, cloud our judgement, and stir up feelings that don’t belong to us. It is easy now to be led astray, to lose ourselves in fantasy or confusion. This is a night when the Fae walk thick in the hollows, and not all wear kindly faces. Protect yourself, beloveds, with wards and salt and iron if you must. But also, let Neptune teach you to soften, to dance in the fog, to let go of the need to know everything. For in the realm of mystery, sometimes the most potent magick is surrender.

On the tail of this lunation, a rare alignment arises. Saturn sextile Uranus, exact on the 11th, blesses us with the spell of balance between old ways and new. It is the crone and the child sitting together by the fire, one holding memory, the other possibility. This energy is a gift. The opportunity to create new structures, to build sacred habits that are both innovative and wise. If you are working on a great transformation, a life change, a reinvention of your path, this aspect lends you both the lightning and the bricks. Catch it, darling ones, like a shooting star and plant it in the soil.

Then, as if to sweeten the pot and charm our hearts, Venus meets Jupiter in the sky on the 12th, offering blessings of love, abundance, and joy. This is a generous and fertile energy, and though it comes after the Moon’s peak, it will linger in the spell cloud she casts. Love may arrive like birdsong after a storm. Friendships may blossom where silence once was. Beauty might be found in the smallest, most overlooked corners of your life. Yet take care not to become greedy, to chase pleasure at the cost of truth. For even blessings must be honoured with gratitude and balance.

The Moon herself also draws close to asteroid Ceres, goddess of grain and grieving, mother of Persephone. There is a soft nurturing here, a longing to care for what is fragile, to cradle the small and sacred things in our hands. We may be asked to tend to old wounds or offer compassion where it has long been withheld. And overhead, the fixed star Rotanev in the constellation of the Dolphin gleams. A star of healing, laughter, and joy returned after sorrow. Pallas Athena, warrior priestess and wise weaver of justice, lends her spear to this Moon as well. There is strategy and cunning in her blessings. She reminds us that the battle is often won in the mind before the sword is ever drawn.

So what does this Full Moon of Ice truly mean for us, in this strange Winter twilight, this liminal in between? It is a Moon of potential, of brilliance, of sudden truth, but also of challenge, illusion, and transformation. The positive light of this lunation brings with it flashes of insight, clarity of mind, brilliant ideas, unexpected revelations and the courage to begin again. But the shadowed side may reveal restlessness, confusion, emotional disconnection or scattered thoughts. It is a Moon that asks us to let go of what binds the mind, but to do so with heart, with care, and with the ancient knowing that all things are part of a greater weaving.

And so I offer you this spell, my loves, for clarity and release under the Moon of Ice. You will need a sprig of rosemary for remembrance and clarity, a piece of smoky quartz for grounding and transmutation, a silver candle to mirror the icy Moonlight, three drops of eucalyptus oil for breath and healing, and a square of blue cloth to tie it all together. On the night of the Full Moon, cast a circle beneath her light, and breathe deeply until the mind quietens. Place the rosemary and quartz before you, anoint the candle with eucalyptus and light it. Say:

Moon of Ice, so clear and bright
Burn away what clouds my sight
Let truth arise, let fog depart
Restore the wisdom of my heart

Hold the blue cloth in your hand and place the herbs and stone within. Tie it closed, whispering your intentions into the bundle. Carry it with you until the New Moon, and then bury it near water to seal the spell.

And now, as the wind whirls and the jasmine still sleeps in bud, I return to my hearth to listen to the stories the fire will tell me this night. May your heart be strong, your mind be still, and your spirit light as snowflake ash. Blessed be this Moon of Ice.

With love from my shadowed window,

Tori, The Burrow Witch ###ooo

31/07/2025

My dearest ones, from my warm little corner of The Burrow where the hearth fire crackles and the kettle hums, I greet you with a breath of candlelight and a whisper of jasmine on the edge of the wind. The Witch’s Sabbat of Imbolc is almost upon us, arriving with the softest footfall tomorrow, Friday the 1st of August, and though the land still slumbers deep in Winter’s dark dream, there is a shiver of promise stirring in the stillness. This is the holy hinge between the depths of cold and the trembling breath of Spring. And oh, my darlings, how I feel her, Brigid, moving closer.

My very first Witchcraft teacher, the luminous Calypso Rose, would always become giddy and bright eyed around this time of year. She’d laugh and clap her hands and declare with absolute joy, “Brigid is coming, Brigid is coming!” Her love for this Sabbat lit up even the darkest of winter days. She would open the windows just a crack, even in the freezing air, to let the Goddess find her way in. She taught me to listen not just with my ears, but with my bones and blood, for the faintest music of returning life, the rustle of dandelion roots, the sigh of seeds beginning to dream.

Imbolc is ancient, older than ink and older than iron. It comes to us from the hearths of the Celtic peoples, whose lives were braided tightly with the rhythms of the Earth. The word Imbolc is said to mean “in the belly,” and it is the time when the ewes begin to lactate and swell with life, when milk returns to the land and the Goddess stirs beneath the frost. It is a time of inward flame, of quiet vigils and candles lit in windows against the long night.
The Goddess of Imbolc is Brigid, the radiant one, the forge keeper, the healer, the poetess of fire and water alike. She is a triple goddess in her own right. The midwife of Spring, the guardian of sacred wells and springs, the protectress of bards and witches. Her fire is not the roaring blaze of Summer but the steady flame that refuses to go out, even when the wind howls and the cold claws at your door. She walks barefoot through the frost, leaving tiny blossoms where she passes, her cloak trailing milk and stars.
And the faeries. Ah, yes, they too are drawn to her glow. The quietest of the Winter fae follow Brigid’s gentle steps, bringing blessings to those who honour her with reverence and flame. It is said in some old corners that the fae rest through the bitter cold, huddled in hollow hills and tree roots, and that Imbolc is their first stirring, the first flutter of wings beneath the earth, the first faerie sigh in the frost.

Here at The Burrow, I always know Imbolc is drawing near when the jasmine awakens. It has always been a loyal herald, erupting in sudden, sweet profusion around this time, its tiny white stars spilling over the trellises and hedges like blessings from another world. Every year I gather it, with thanks and song, and dry it gently by the hearth. It becomes the scented lace of so many spell jars, teas, incense bundles and bath soaks through the year, binding magick with fragrance and softness. Though this year, the cold has lingered longer than usual and the buds are still shy, tightly curled in their green and pink cocoons. The jasmine knows, though. It always knows when to come.

We are expecting a biting turn soon, with a sharp east coast low rolling in, wrapping the land in bitter winds and sleeting skies. But even that cannot stop the slow miracle that Imbolc brings. Life is already quickening in secret. Deep in the soil, the first roots stretch. The birds call just a little longer in the morning. The sun, though weak and low, is shifting ever so slightly in the sky.

If you sit very still, cup of herbal tea in hand, shawl wrapped tight, and press your palm to the earth, you may feel her too. A thrum. A song. A heartbeat.
And so, beloved ones, I offer you this Winter spell, crafted in honour of Brigid and this sabbat of hidden flame.
Gather together: a white candle, for Brigid’s fire, a small bowl of milk or oat milk, for nourishment and blessing, a pinch of dried jasmine or rosemary if jasmine has not yet flowered, a sprig of evergreen or ivy, a quartz crystal, clear and true, a silver coin or something precious, to offer to the fae, a bowl of water from rain, spring or sea.

From this evening or anytime until two weeks hence, place your hands around the bowl of water and whisper into it all your hopes and wishes for the months to come. Anoint the candle with the water and light it, saying:
Brigid of the flame and forge
Brigid of the sacred well
Kindle in me a spark of hope
In this dark and frozen spell

Drop the herbs into the water, float the evergreen atop it, and place the crystal within. Let the candle burn down safely, and when it is done, leave the coin at the base of a tree or in your garden as an offering to the fae. Keep the bowl on your altar for three days and then return the water to the earth, whispering thanks.

This is a time to tend not roaring fires, but the little embers within. To honour your dreams still forming in the deep. To hold your own self with gentle hope and trust the thaw will come. To celebrate the brave and beautiful beginning of new life that still hides beneath winter’s cloak.

So let us welcome Brigid, as Calypso would, with joy and love and songs by candlelight. Let us festoon our homes in flowers, or promises of flowers. Let us sip tea and dream and stitch our intentions quietly into the world.

The frost still clings to the windows here at The Burrow and the jasmine still holds its breath but I feel her coming. The old magick is moving again. Brigid is coming. Brigid is coming.

With flickering flame and jasmine scented blessings
Tori, The Burrow Witch ###ooo

24/07/2025

Merry meet, my loves from deep within The Burrow where the little hearth flames are still bravely glowing against the cold dark hush of midwinter’s bones and the winds rattle the old trees like bones in a witch’s bag of runes. I’ve been up long before dawn, stirring herbal tea and stirring thoughts as the world turns her golden face toward a most fiery mystery. For tomorrow morning, Friday 25th July at 5:11am, the New Moon blooms in the fixed fire sign of Leo, the Lion, sovereign of heart, fire and expression. But this is no ordinary lion’s purr. This New Moon is draped in dark velvet and shadowed in glittering omens, woven tightly with threads of fate and bone and longing and the unseen hands of spirit that work in deep silence.

Now let us peer into the shimmer and whisper of the stars. This New Moon stands opposite Pluto, lord of the underworld, in a tight and intense opposition. In the realm of fortunes, this is a most uncomfortable stretch between what we want to radiate outward in glory and what we are being asked to surrender and die to within. The positive side of this harsh alignment is the sheer power of transformation it holds. You may find that your own inner lion breaks open its ribcage and bares something true and raw and golden, if only you are brave enough to witness it without flinching. But beware the shadowy side, dear one. This aspect can stir control, power struggles, ego wounding and a deep desire to dominate or retreat into manipulation. Take care with what you declare, and know that sometimes the brightest fire casts the darkest shadow.

But not all is battle and bruising. For the Moon dances in harmonious trines with both Saturn and Neptune, those two ancient elders who, when combined, whisper of visions made real. The trine to Saturn brings quiet discipline and the ability to craft a sacred vessel to hold the dreams that Neptune is breathing into your sleeping mind. Positively, this is the aspect of the spellworker, the artist, the storyteller who brings imagination into form. There is a dreamy seriousness here, a call to not only wish upon a star but to take up quill or needle or broom and do the quiet work of making it so. But the negative can be a slipping into illusions that feel too structured to be questioned, or a loss of momentum when daydreams remain only mist and never breath. Walk that edge like the old witches did, barefoot and watchful.

Pluto also forms sextile aspects to both Saturn and Neptune, threading the alchemical fire of the deep unconscious into the architecture of both time and dream. This is a most potent time for transformation through spiritual devotion, for restructuring not just your life but your very soul. This can feel like the gentle push of fate’s hand, encouraging the slow uncoiling of what has been trapped in the bones for generations. At its best, this is ancestral healing, quiet redemption, phoenix medicine. At its worst, it can surface unnameable fear or heaviness that makes you want to flee. Do not flee, my love. Sit. Stir the fire. Listen.

And in the centre of it all, Saturn and Neptune are still conjunct in Pisces, the sea dreamer’s kingdom, where time and spirit blur. This rare and lingering union calls us to embody our mystical beliefs, not just dream them. It reminds us that time is not linear and healing is not a checklist. At its best, it weaves spiritual discipline into your bones. At its worst, it can make you feel lost at sea, unsure what is real or illusion. Let your breath be your anchor and your rituals be your compass.

This Leo New Moon is also curled between two stars in the Constellation Cancer. The soft, protective stars of Tegmine and Piautos. Tegmine is a shell star, a symbol of deep protection and sacred secrecy. Piautos, lesser known, is associated with fine sensitivity, veils between worlds and mystical guardianship. Their presence with the Moon suggests that though Leo burns with fire and outwardness, there is something very hidden here too, something curled in the underbelly of the heart. A need to shine yes, but only when the sanctuary is protected. It may be time to shine light not on the stage, but within your own inner sanctum. Tend your hearth. Honour your lineage. Guard your dreams like eggs not yet ready to hatch.

So what then is the fortune of this lion hearted New Moon as a whole? She is a blazing ember of rebirth, a mirror of fire held up to your own face asking ‘Who are you now?’ The positive potential is magnificent. A fearless reconnection with your own true calling, a reclaiming of voice and confidence, a radiant dance into your next becoming. The shadow is not to be ignored though. Pride, ego, fear of change, and battles of will may surface like spirits uninvited. This Moon asks for courage, but not the kind that shouts. The courage to feel deeply, to change without drama, to trust without proof. To build altars to your future self from the bones of your former skin.

And as if that were not enough, Mercury is now retrograde from 17th July until 10th August, spinning his trickster dance through the mists and making all communication a little slippery, a little strange. You may feel forgetful, irritable, or find that messages go missing, technology glitches, or your words are taken the wrong way. But even deeper than that, this retrograde feels thick and nostalgic, as though time is folding in on itself. Dreams from the past, long buried voices, unfinished stories. They all rise now for reckoning. You may feel slow, sad, sentimental, confused, or oddly quiet. That is not wrong. That is the echo of memory circling back to be healed. Let it.

Here is a little gentle spell to soothe your spirit during this Mercury in Retrograde. Brew a tea of lavender, chamomile, and mugwort beneath the New Moon. Light a soft blue candle, and place beside it a piece of clear quartz and a sprig of rosemary for clarity. Call upon the Celtic Goddess Arianrhod. She of the Silver Wheel, who rules over time, fate, and the stars. Whisper her name as you sip your tea and say:
'Lady of Spiral and Moonlit Thread
Guide my words and clear my head
Turn the wheel but make it kind
Bring peace and calm into my mind
By star and root and ocean song
Let my path be smooth and strong'
Let the candle burn down in safety and place the quartz beneath your pillow for dream guidance. This is not a time to force clarity but to allow it to rise like mist over still water.

And so, my darlings, may this lion hearted Moon awaken you without overwhelming you. May you speak truths with gentle flame and honour the dark parts of your light. May Arianrhod hold your time in her hands and your name in her stars. Stay close to your hearth. Feed the fire. Listen for the old stories in the wind.

With deep love and lion's warmth from my little fireside to yours
Tori, The Burrow Witch ###ooo

The Burrow

07/09/2025

23/08/2025

08/08/2025

31/07/2025

24/07/2025

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