by Byron Ballard | Dec 5, 2017
I’m working on the Mother Grove Solstice ritual and ran across this poem. I’m not much of a poet, in spite of my name, but sometimes I can’t resist. So, here’s this– Seasoning By Byron Ballard I peel the myth away, smelling the...
by Byron Ballard | Dec 4, 2017
Today was the perfect day for garden clean up. Sunny and warm but not hot. Bright enough to give me a headache, by the way. We cleaned the little kitchen garden and then tackled the Italian garden. Cleaned and renovated the beds. I watered the raise bed with its...
by Byron Ballard | Nov 28, 2017
I just submitted this to our newsletter and thought I’d share it here, too. I am trying valiantly to avoid talking about politics–is it obvious? This is particular to where I live in the southern highlands of Appalachia, so you may have to tweak it a bit...
by Byron Ballard | Nov 13, 2017
I am home from the road. For now. The grounding of my life is the land here in the southern highlands of the old Appalachian mountains but the road is always tempting me to go farther, to travel more, to be compact and joyful as a rambling woman. A rambling woman. A...
by ashevillewitch | Dec 21, 2014
For the first time in decades, I rose early (though the cat did, too) and sang the Sun up alone. My singing companion now lives a rich full life in the Queen City and I imagine she slept in this morning. And you know what? It was okay, more than okay. Daily practice...
