Bridget Bishop...

Britain's Poison Garden...

The 8 Witch's Holidays...

Slow Motion Cats: Outstanding!!!...

The Angel Oak...

The Angel Oak on John's Island, South Carolina...

Victorian Witchy Decor...

Evil Or Protective Black Dog?...

Was Anne Boleyn A Witch?...

My Sin Parfum...

On Wednesdays... ;)

Beautiful Witch...

Beautiful Black!!!...

JUST an Exquisite Little Garden Shack!!!...

"Fancy"...

"Jezebel"...

Jezebel's son Ahaziah inherited the throne, but died as the result of an accident and was succeeded by his brother, Jehoram. Jehu later usurped the throne and killed Jehoram, and his nephew Ahaziah, who was the son of Jehoram's possible sister Athaliah and her Judahite husband Jehoram. He later approached Jezebel at the royal palace in Jezreel. Anticipating his arrival, Jezebel put on make-up and a formal wig with adornments and looked out of a window and taunted him. Bromiley says that it should be looked at less as an attempt at seduction and more as the public defiance of the queen mother, invested with the authority of the royal house and cult to confront a rebellious commander. In his two-volume Guide to the Bible (1967 and 1969), Isaac Asimov describes Jezebel's last act: dressing in all her finery, make-up, and jewelry, as deliberately symbolic, indicating her dignity, royal status, and determination to go out of this life as a queen. Jehu, however, remained unfazed and ordered Jezebel's eunuch servants to throw her from the window. Her blood splattered on the wall and horses, and Jehu's horse trampled her corpse. He entered the palace where, after he ate and drank, ordered Jezebel's body to be taken for burial. However, only her skull, her feet, and the palms of her hands remained—her flesh had been eaten by stray dogs, just as the prophet Elijah had prophesied. --- Wikpedia. "Jezebel, Jezebel"... If ever the devil was born without a pair of horns, It was you, Jezebel, it was you! If ever an angel fell, Jezebel, it was you! Jezebel, it was you! If ever a pair of eyes promised paradise, Deceiving me, grieving me, leavin' me blue, Jezebel, it was you! If ever the devil's plan was made to torment man, It was you, Jezebel, it was you! Could be better that I never knew a lover such as you, Forsaking dreams and all for the siren call of your arms! Like a demon, love possessed me, you obsessed me constantly! What evil star is mine, that my fate's design should be Jezebel? If ever a pair of eyes promised paradise Deceiving me, grieving me, leavin' me blue, Jezebel, it was you! If ever the devil's plan was made to torment man, It was you, Jezebel, it was you, night and day, every way! Jezebel, Jezebel, Jezebel!!! --- Source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/l/lainefrankielyrics/jezebellyrics.html

A Mint Julep!!!... ;)

How To Make A Mint Julip: Get a stalk of mint, crush it slightly to get the juice to release. Put it in a tall glass. Fill the glass with ice chips. Put 2 to 3 tablespoons of sugar on top of the ice. Pour a jigger of fine bourbon over it all.

"Lady In Red" Sung By Chris de Burgh...

Yemanja...

Yemaya: Ocean Goddess, Orisha Mother of All >>> September 7, 2024... Today, we celebrate the feast day of Yemayá (also known as Yemọja, Yemaja, Yemanjá, Yemoyá, Iyemọja, Iemanjá, Janaína, Mãe da Água, Yemallá, La Sirène, Mère de L'Eau, and Mami Wata). Yemaya is the orisha of motherhood and the sea. She is the mother of all Orishas and the mother of humanity. Yemaya is one of the most powerful orishas in Santeria. Often depicted as a mermaid, Yemaya owns all the waters of the Earth, rules over motherhood, and represents Mother Earth, the life giver. A primordial deity, some perceive her to be at the root of numerous ancient goddesses, including Isis. Yemaya is a protector of women. She governs everything pertaining to women; parenting, child safety, love, and healing. According to myth, when her waters broke, it caused a great flood creating rivers and streams and the first mortal humans were created from her womb. Her character is that of a mature woman. Loved by many, Yemaya is one of the Seven African Powers (Las Siete Potencias Africanas). She is strongly protective and cares deeply for all her children, comforting them and cleansing them of sorrow. Yemaya has a fierce, nurturing, gentle energy often associated with the moon and sorcery. She fights against domestic violence and works to empower women. For practicing witches, regardless of tradition, Yemaya can be petitioned to help in matters of self-love, fertility, emotional wounds, trauma, and healing work. She does not easily lose her temper, but when angered she can be quite destructive and violent, as the flood waters of turbulent rivers. Some of the priests of Yemọja believe that she used her fresh water to help Ọbàtálá in the molding of human beings out of clay. In Lucmi and Espiritismo lineages, Yemaya is synchronized with Our Lady of Regla. Cowrie shells represent her wealth. Number: 7 Day of the week: Saturday Feast Day: September 7 Colors: light blue and crystal Ritual garment color: light blue Ritual jewelry or necklace: crystalline beads Ritual salutation: Odô-Iya, Erù-Iya, Odôfiaba Symbols: shells, sea stones, fish, fishnets, anchors, everything that pertains to the sea Her sacred objects include: Dishes and porcelain Earthen basins Fruits: obi (Cola acuminata) and the bitter kola nut (Garcinia kola) White jars or pitchers White medals or coins Ritual foods or adimús: Cane syrup, called melado in Spanish Watermelon Malarrabia, a Cuban dessert Gofio, flour made from roasted grains Pork rinds >>> Novena (prayer) to Yemaya> "Our sovereign Queen and Mother, Our Lady of the Rule, trusting in your motherly love for me, I humbly kneel before you, the fount of goodness and mercy. Be my advocate and protector against all ills and miseries, I implore your mercy never to ignore my afflictions that presently torment my soul. Show yourself as a tender mother. Make me your worthy child as I purified my sins through the veneration of your miraculous image of the rule. Refuse not my petition. You generously aid and protect those who take refuge from you. Help me to be humble and grateful child always as I walk along the part of perfection, following the steps of your Divine son. May I rejoice with you in His presence in the everlasting glory of heaven." --- From "The House Of Ashe".

3 Reasons You Could Be Accused Of Witchcraft In The 1600s...

"Merry Meet Murders": Chapter 1...

1983: I had this twitchy feeling that my Grandma Marrcine's secret room would be unlocked, that fascinating tower room at the apex of our two hundred year old house, which some people jokingly called not a house, but a castle.

Don't ask me how I knew that little room was unlocked. Witch blood runs strong in the Cerri family and we all sense things, even the very smallest things, like a door that is carefully sealed each time it's left, but now,---was intriguingly open. You would think living at Wildcroft Cove, a village only fifteen miles from Salem, that we'd have at least part English heritage, but, oh, no,---we are all Italian, and of the Old Ways. Our family is from Tuscany where the sacred tradition of Aradia started, the mysterious goddess leader, the charismatic fourteenth century woman who left behind ancient, and as most think, scandalously lewd and eccentric lessons... My very wealthy red haired ancestor Rosemunda was an infamous beauty, an evil faerie-learned woman, a heartless temptress, who fascinated every man who saw her and who also followed those Old Aradia Ways. This was her country estate house, where she took her elite friends to our circle of standing stones in the woods, the circle surrounded by ancient gnarled oaks. There in the night mists, barely clothed in white gauze with long white sleeves that hung to the ground, waving her flashing silver and mother-of-pearl athame toward the full moon, Rosemunda would lead the rituals, always accompanied by her black cat, Nessa, who was said to be an immortal spirit attached, for a while, to Rosemunda.

I've known these family things since my early childhood. One of the first family things that was my responsibility as the youngest girl child in our matriarchal family was to care for our household guardian, our Befana, to dust and clean the extremely old doll in her niche in the parlor, to give Befana fresh flowers in her dry reddish hair in the Spring and Summer and sharp-scented maple leaves in the Fall and even dried red rose hips from our faerie roses in the Winter, the small white faerie roses that encircled and also grew sixty feet up into our huge Russian mulberry tree. But, now, I continued to climb the spiral staircase to my grandma's tower room, looking up, up, up. Sparkling clear diamond-paned windows cross-hatched with lead were set in the horsehair-plastered walls to let in light. The old stairs creaked every few steps. The railing was beautifully made as was every piece of woodwork in this grand old house. You'd never know unless you looked very closely that it wasn't carved out of one long sinuous length, like a twisted white serpent. I gazed upward, upward, upward... I had wanted for years and years to see the little sequestered tower room where I knew my Grandma Marrcine kept her potions, her exquisite handmade oils, ointments, washes and dusts, those very magical things that she'd created all her adult life for practically every human condition or problem. Grandma Marrcine was in her late sixties, but she still had her hourglass figure and was as spry as an Alpine goat. Her wavy black hair was liberally streaked with silvery iron gray and she had piercing dark gray eyes, eyes the color of cascades of heavy rain running down the nine foot tall windows of our living room. As I climbed and climbed and climbed and climbed, the stairs became not as well-cared for, not even half as meticulously maintained as the rest of the house. Even some of the delicately-formed spindles were missing; the wood was pitted and unpainted. Up and up I went, five stories, until I stood on the landing in front of a narrow pale pink door, a door only a couple of feet wide and about five feet tall.

An averaged-sized adult would have to turn sideways and stoop to get through it. I reached out, gently touched the doorknob. The door slammed open as if it was spring-loaded. My beautiful older sister Vesper sat up with a ringing cry from a little brass bed, quickly clutching a white flannel sheet to her breasts. Her long wavy red hair was wild around her face, her chartruese green eyes were as wide and crystalline as a French boudoir doll's. (She was a beauty. Although, I'd never-ever tell her that! I envied her her golden freckles.)

A dark-haired young man of about twenty leaped up from the bed, charged through the door and clattered down the stairs, bare butt, his denim shirt open, it's tails flapping, his muscular chest heaving. His jeans and boxers were on the floor next to the bed. "What the flaming hell are you doing here, Aurielle?," my sister screamed at me. I put my hands on my hips, and leaned forward from my waist, like an angry goose. "And, WHAT were you doing here..., " I shot at her, pointing my arm back toward the open door and the stairs, "...with, ~ WITH HIM?" Bastion, our fluffy, almost black tabby cat, gazed at me from the top of a dresser, his big pinkish orange eyes curious, alert and amused.

--- Copyright by Sorelle Sucere 2021.

11 Myths About The Salem Witch Trials...

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!... Gorgeous Garb!!!...

Oregano Oil For Earache Pain...

Oregano oil is great for ear aches. Here's how to make it: You need fresh oregano. (Dried won't do!) The oregano must not be wet or the oil will be cloudy and no good. You don't have to wash the stalks. Crush the stalks and leaves slightly. Pack a bottle with them. Pour down over the crushed stalks extra virgin olive oil or mineral oil. Let your oregano oil set a few months at least to allow the herb to suffuse into the oil. To use for the ear ache, warm the oil slightly, no more than body temp. Lay down on your side, aching ear toward you. Drop into the ear. Massage the outside of the ear a little. Let the oil sit in the ear. (Oregano is a perennial. If you live in a place that is not terribly cold you can grow a big patch of it.)

Voodoo Shop & Voodoo Museum In New Orleans...

"Kashmir" & The Beautiful Dancers...

Kashmir (/ˈkæʃmɪər/ KASH-meer or /kæʃˈmɪər/ kash-MEER) is the northernmost geographical region of the Indian subcontinent. Until the mid-19th century, the term Kashmir denoted only the Kashmir Valley between the Great Himalayas and the Pir Panjal Range. The term has since also come to encompass a larger area that formerly comprised the princely state of Jammu and Kashmir, and includes the Indian-administered territories of Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh, the Pakistani-administered territories of Azad Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan, and the Chinese-administered territories of Aksai Chin and the Trans-Karakoram Tract. >>> The Lidder river valley near Pahalgam... Nanga Parbat in Diamer, the ninth-highest mountain on Earth, is the western anchor of the Himalayas In 1819, the Sikh Empire, under Ranjit Singh, annexed the Kashmir valley. In 1846, after the Sikh defeat in the First Anglo-Sikh War, and upon the purchase of the region from the British under the Treaty of Amritsar, the Raja of Jammu, Gulab Singh, became the new ruler of Jammu and Kashmir. The rule of his descendants, under the paramountcy (or tutelage) of the British Crown, lasted until the Partition of India in 1947, when the former princely state of the British Indian Empire became a disputed territory, now administered by three countries: China, India, and Pakistan. --- Wikpedia.

Dance Of The Druids, --- From "Outlander"...

Exploring The Home Of Marie Laveau...

The Home: Marie Laveau’s House By August Darbonne & Kathryn O’Dwyer, editor >>> Marie Laveau’s home once stood on the site of present-day 1020 and 1022 St. Ann Street. Marguerite Darcantel, Laveau’s mother, and Catherine Henry, Laveau’s grandmother, raised Marie Laveau at the property. Marie Laveau went on to raise her own family in the same house and often opened the building up to those in need. The story of how Marie Laveau obtained her house is an example of how myth often supersedes fact. Many attribute Laveau’s homeownership to her Vodou abilities. According to one legend, a wealthy man petitioned Laveau for help. The man’s son was accused of murder and lawyers said the case was hopeless. The man asked Laveau for his son’s freedom and in payment, he would grant Laveau a house on St. Ann Street. In preparation for the trial, Laveau spent weeks praying to Vodou loa (spirits) and Catholic saints in St. Louis Cathedral. While in prayer, Laveau held guinea peppers, which are extremely spicy, in her mouth. When the spirits saw this willingness to suffer, they heard her intention. On the morning of the trial, Laveau placed the guinea peppers under the judge’s seat. The man’s son was proclaimed innocent and Marie gained the house on St. Ann. Laveau’s actual acquisition of the house is a less thrilling tale. The cottage on St. Ann Street (numbered 179 St. Ann from 1823-1861 and 152 St. Ann after 1861) was built for Catherine Henry, Marie Laveau’s grandmother, sometime after she purchased the lot in 1798. After Catherine Henry’s death, the legal heirs to the cottage, consisting of Marie Laveau and her cousins, decided to sell the cottage to pay their grandmother’s expenses. Jean Louis Christophe Duminy de Glapion, Leveau’s common-law husband, purchased the property. Jean Louis Christophe Duminy de Glapion came from a prominent New Orleans family. Glapion was white and American anti-miscegenation laws deemed interracial marriages illegal. In order to circumnavigate these laws, Glapion deeded the cottage to the minor children he and Marie produced, giving everyone in the family the legal right to live there. At times, Glapion claimed he was a mulatre, or of mixed race. Glapion and Laveau had seven children together, Marie Heloise Euchariste (1827-1862), Marie Louise (1829-1829), Christophe (1831-1831), Jean Baptiste (1832-1832), Francois Maurice (1833-1834), Marie Philomene (1836-1897), and Archange Edouard (1839-1845). Only Marie Heloise and Marie Philomene lived to adulthood, both of whom produced children who were also raised in the St. Ann cottage. Not only did Marie Laveau raise her family in this cottage, but it was also her workspace and a safe haven for many in need. Journalists recorded the house to be simple, but elaborate altars decorated the interior. People interviewed by the WPA Federal Writers Project mentioned altars with statues of saints, animal parts, and effigies in Laveau’s cottage. WPA Interviewees also mentioned how Laveau opened her home to orphans and allowed Choctaw vendors to shelter there. Like many Creole women in New Orleans, the home was the center of Laveau’s life. The cottage at St. Ann was an ancestral home where Laveau’s grandmother defied a patriarchal and racist society by buying her own home and raising her family. Laveau raised her own family here. Glapion, their children, and Laveau herself passed away in this home. The cottage was demolished in 1903, and the current structure at 1020 St. Ann marks the approximate location of her home.

5 Deadly Flowering Plants...

Monkshood...

"A Little Drop Of Poison," --- Tom Watts...

The Magick Of Brazil...

Do you remember "Woman On Top"???... LOVED that movie!!!... >>>

Meanwhile, in Florida & The Florida Keys...

Hemingway House In Key West... I was there. Lots of Polydactyl cats on the place who are treated like kings & queens... ;) >>>