Museum of Medieval Witchcraft Inquisition artifacts & Medieval weapons Loves Poetry, Myths and Legends
Woods of Vancouver Island
Joined January 2015
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“If you are a monster, stand up.
If you are a monster, a trickster, a fiend,
If you’ve built a steam-powered wishing machine
If you have a secret, a dark past, a scheme,
If you kidnap maidens or dabble in dreams
Come stand by me.
If you have been broken, stand up.
If you have been broken, abandoned, alone
If you have been starving, a creature of bone
If you live in a tower, a dungeon, a throne
If you weep for wanting, to be held, to be known,
Come stand by me.
If you are a savage, stand up.
If you are a witch, a dark queen, a black knight,
If you are a mummer, a pixie, a sprite,
If you are a pirate, a tomcat, a wright,
If you swear by the moon and you fight the hard fight,
Come stand by me.
If you are a devil, stand up.
If you are a villain, a madman, a beast,
If you are a strowler, a prowler, a priest,
If you are a dragon come sit at our feast,
For we all have stripes, and we all have horns,
We all have scales, tails, manes, claws and thorns
And here in the dark is where new worlds are born.
Come stand by me.”
― Catherynne M. Valente
Mary-Ann Thorson𐃆 retweeted
“Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
– Emily Brontë, Fall, Leaves, Fall
Mary-Ann Thorson𐃆 retweeted
“Think of yourself as a wanderer in a dark wood. It's about to get darker”
- Margaret Atwood
Mary-Ann Thorson𐃆 retweeted
“I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.”
- Henry David Thoreau, Walden; or, Life in the Woods
Mary-Ann Thorson𐃆 retweeted
As the Autumnal Equinox arrives - officially welcoming the start of autumn. This seasonal shift invites us to look inward and reflect on our own journeys.
This celestial event, also known as Mabon, is distinguished by the harmonious balance between day and night and heralds the gradual emergence of longer nights and shorter days.
Just as the natural world begins to slow down and transform, we are given a beautiful opportunity to pause, practice gratitude for how far we’ve come, and gracefully let go of what no longer serves us.
Here's to embracing change, finding our own inner balance, and welcoming the quiet magic of the coming season.
Mary-Ann Thorson𐃆 retweeted
“Summer left, and I drowned in silence at its hushed goodbye. But in the forest, I heard the footsteps of autumn.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee
Mary-Ann Thorson𐃆 retweeted
“Blessed are the Witches
who walk a path others fear and scold.
Blessed are the Witches
who seek truths lost and untold.
Blessed are the Witches,
the brave and the bold.
Blessed are the Witches,
the young and the old”
-Leandra Witchwood
Mary-Ann Thorson𐃆 retweeted
The witch's calendar is not only told by suns and moons, but by her constant harvest. She knows her place in the year by gifts of the land. Her garnering bag full of tomorrow's magical inks and cures that will be needed in the harshness of winter. – #EmilyCBanting #Witchcraft
“The chilled air smelled of woodsmoke, of distances and passing time. Frost glimmered on the morning fields. Crows called across the pewter afternoons”
- James Carlos Blake
#OwlishMonday
“As I sat in the owl forest, I recognized the owl’s deeper message: Trust life. Trust the transformation. Trust the twists in the stream. Face-to-face”
― Leigh Calvez, The Hidden Lives of Owls
“The forest did not sleep. It watched. A thousand thousand eyes, green and lidless, peered through the lattice of the leaves. The very stillness was an intense observation.”
- Algernon Blackwood, The Willows, The Listener and Other Stories, (1907)
She did not mean to shirk her chores, but the autumn air whispered of rest, and she listened.
Then came a flutter of ink-black wings,shattering the amber silence. A traveler from the sky dropped down beside her dress, his eye a polished bead of midnight.
“Why sweat for tomorrow's cider,” the crow seemed to say, “when the sun is warm on your face today?”
She smiled, her heavy heart growing light, and spent the rest of the twilight trading secrets with the bird, leaving the apples to wait for another dawn.
“In a familiar yet uncertain winter forest, an ancient being awakens. The creatures succumb to its call and are turned into hulks of the same mindless bone. When all are one what happens to those left behind?”
- Ruby Taylor, Dead Horse, (2022) Film, short.
