#winter ancestor

[anonimusunnoan]

Knitting side of Tumblr is this an accurate representation?

[pagan-stitches]

I started work again last night on this red work piece. The design is from the same vintage Czechoslovakian pattern book as the bottom piece that is used in May celebrations. The current piece is intended for use at the winter solstice.

[ancestorsalive]

Nikolai Astrup (1880-1928)

[wayward-wendy]

Winter's Feast

Finally.

[specialagentartemis]

Paleo Diet recipe, authentic to what humans ate in the Paleolithic Ice Age:

Step one, get several buddies together and kill a mammoth with a spear,

[lailoken]

Hail to the Darkening Day, which marks the coming of the light!

[slavicafire]

and so spring kisses my face ever so lightly, and flowers are blooming beneath my feet. busy, busy time ahead: good death-mother, woven into last year’s hay and wool, will burn and drown on this equinox, and the beloved dead will dine with me on the new moon. 

[rosesofthetwilight]

[theserpentpharmakiea]

Every December - January the old woman of Winter is celebrated. For the past 3 years I have been teaching a class about these woman of myth and folklore. My fascination started with connecting to the ancestral spirits of my heritage La Befana and The Cailleach, and learning along the way the connection they have to the other fascinating woman of Winter and the land. I hope to see you there.

To check out my upcoming class and my other on demand and upcoming classes, go to Zinzeudo University at zinzeudo.com

The holiday season is a time for many things, family, food, and magic. The time between early

December until Mid January is full of spirit activity and stories of Witches, Ghosts, Goblins, and

Elves, some of these stories are terrifying in there own way and some are heartfelt and warm.

Most of these stories and traditions came from pagan beginnings, the legend of La Befana is no

different. The traditions of The Christmas Witch in Italy are old, full of pagan symbolism, and

goddess worship. Looking deep in these legends we open up a different side to the old woman

of Winter and relation to the Old Hag from many cultures. We will touch on the similarities La

Befana has with other Crone and Hag Goddesses as The Cailleach, Baba Yaga, Berchta, Hulda,

and Ragana. As well as similarities to Abundance Goddesses like Strenia, Abundia, and Feronia.

Join me as we travel with La Befana The Christmas Witch.

In this class we will learn

- Lore

- How to build a relationship

- Creating a shrine

- Offerings

[khazad]

so in the hobbit bilbo says the words “where there’s life there’s hope, as my father used to say” and then in. i think the two towers? sam says the exact same thing (except his father apparently often added “…and need of vittles”)

now the phrase “as my father used to say” might just be a hobbitism used to avoid giving the impression that you think you’re wiser than you are, but we do know that bilbo and the gaffer saw a lot of each other, from at latest the point of bilbo’s return to his disappearance at his eleventy-first birthday, and in the very first scene of fotr the gaffer describes bilbo as always both addressing him with respect and deferring to his knowledge on gardening, so they probably did get on well enough to absorb some personal vernacular from each other and i like to think that “where there’s life there’s hope” was specifically a bagginsism that jumped to the gamgees through bilbo’s friendship with his gardener

[pagan-stitches]

I made some good progress last night.

[ancestorsalive]

"Slavic Winter rituals - The nuptials of the North Star & Winter Solstice imparted mythological elements to costumes, head dresses and masks. In Bulgaria, the 'kukeri', of prehistoric origin, is a ritual where men appear fierce and often with belts ringing with cow bells and is done to scare away evil spirits. The roles for men were carefully designed to 'protect' and to make fecund the Moist Mother Earth- with honor, respect, and love."

- Danica Anderson, PhD

[tortoisesshells]

278.

[thebisexualmandalorian]

Of course now that the winter clothes are put away it's gonna snow again. I just want you to be made aware of this. I'm not like Speaking Things Into Existence it just always happens this way, ye ken?

I deeply appreciate your optimism, but I live in South Louisiana and it's probably not going to be under 85f till November.

Please send thoughts and prayers in this trying time

[rosesofthetwilight]

[widowshill]

do tell abt "oh—!" please...what an opener

wip title ask game! so ... this is part of the r/v/b cinematic universe that i share with @tortoisesshells, it's an au of the au where they're too late saving vicki from roger's sharp-toothed cousin, and after she's dead and buried she comes back knocking on the front door of collinwood as a vampire. roger and burke love much too selfishly to kill her, even if they should, so this is them soothing her and helping her get ready for dinner with elizabeth (roger's sister, the lady of the house), and to feel more like herself since she functionally ... can't get ready on her own. or at least, she's not used to it yet.

“Oh —!”

Vicki recoiled into Burke’s arms, and buried her face in his neck. He was unchanged, mostly, for all his months away; his face a little darker from the sun of the oil fields, his hair a little lighter. She'd spent her last day with him in the sun that she ever would, without even knowing it — seeing his eyes glow warm brown like a fresh pot of coffee, freckles peppering his shoulders, squinting without sunglasses because he was stubborn, stubborn, stubborn ...

When his wife whimpered, Burke raised his hands to comfort her, smoothing along the silk of a borrowed dressing gown, pressing down between her shoulders where she’d always liked it. Regular, rhythmic. Like the rock of a ship, or the pull of the tide.

“Vicki, it’s okay — we’ll take the mirrors down at home, eh?” 

Pressed up against his veins it was maddening, the thrum of blood — the way he smelled, rich, like rare filet mingon, a Cabernet Sauvignon, an after-dinner cigar. And a tang, metal. Or gasoline. She could open her mouth and bite into him as easily as she might a grape, and he’d flood into her mouth wet and warm and full of life. Her husband. She winced, guiltily, to think about it, but it didn’t make the hunger go away.