Like the moon illuminates the steps of our mythical journeys, a bee can serve as a guide or an oracle. In addition to supernatural sight, these winged creatures are master builders. Legend says that the Temple of Delphi, one of the most holy temples in the ancient world, was constructed by bees.

Place your ear to the pages of your favorite fairy tale, and you'll hear the gentle murmuring of bees. Many times, a hive takes the role that a fairy might – saving the day when all hope seems lost. Folk stories of yesteryear say bees are born within budding flowers. Like the fae folk, a bee takes its first breath within a bassinet of velvety petals. While the elder bees leave to forage for pollen, the flowers watch their kin, and the wind rocks them to sleep.

Alongside Persephone and the Fairies, join Little Witch for high tea with the hive! As you and the bees sip honeyed potions, Madam Spider spins riddles and Little Witch describes a curious dream – one about a moonstruck hare, moving at your own pace, and the origin of fairy tales.

So long as we decide it will be, the year's first full moon is a spell. It's a spell that doesn't require fancy tools or heaps of practice, nor do we need to follow a strict set of rules or memorize unfamiliar scripts and sigils. January's moon is a spell that summons magick from our dreams. So, while it's often called the Old Moon, Quiet Moon, Moon After Yule, or Wolf Moon, we've crowned it the Dreamer's Moon.

Seasonal epics are long and winding, and before the chapters of ol’ St. Nicolas and Father Frost, the pages of winter featured another Solstice spirit. She, too, was a guardian and bringer of light but wiser and much older than the rest. And she did not carry the sun in her hands, as one might expect, but cradled within her horns. Back then, dashing between the pages of winter was Mother Deer.

Sometimes called the Frost Moon, Freezing Moon, Scratching Moon, or Digging Moon, traditionally, November's moon is nicknamed after our hardworking, crafty, semi-aquatic friend – the beaver. Like other warm-blooded animals, come November, the beaver is busy preparing his winter den.

As the rumor went, the Old One knew everything. She was educated in magick and fate and the ways of fairies and the four-footed. She held the secrets of the horned huntresses, hoofed women, and the sisters holding the slippery reigns of time. The Old One was every bit as mesmerizing as she was maddening. She'd answer every question asked of her, although finding reason in her riddles proved near impossible.

“…the Hunter has another aspect: that of searching, of seeking. He embodies all quests, whether physical, spiritual, artistic, scientific, or social. His image is poemagogic: It both symbolizes and sparks the creative process, which is itself a Quest. The God seeks for the Goddess, as King Arthur seeks for the Grail, as each of us seeks for that which we have lost and for all that has never yet been found.” - Starhawk, The Spiral Dance

As luck would have it, spooky friends, we have a new Little Witch Tale live on the blog! Click here to read The Headless Maiden, an illustrated tale about harvesttime wishes, haunted hearts, and Ariadne, the heroine who lost her head.

Do you see any ghosts creeping around the garden? Which plants wave hello? How many colors are winding their way up your ankles, around your spine, and into your heart? Where are the crossroads carved into this next chapter?

Once in a blue moon, we return home to the stories that made us. We cast a net into a golden tide of remembering, harvesting moon flowers and mystery from the succulent vines of nostalgia. Once in a blue moon, we're given opportunities to revisit the things we loved as children – our favorite books, creative companions, and the wistful seeds of yesteryear.

Serving as our midway point between Summer Solstice and the Autumn Equinox, Lughnasadh is a Celtic fire festival. Inspired by the grain mysteries, sacred partnerships, and the recently-ripened fruits of our labor, seasonal stories like the myth of Lugh and Tailtiu mirror these sentiments.

The Celtic god Lugh will soon be knocking at our doors, scythe in hand, sights set on our golden fields (look for Lughnasadh lore later this month!), but not until we've met July's moon and tasted her wild nectar, a blend of shapeshifting and untethered passions, a brew stirred by the one who wears the antlered crown.

In some parts of the Northern Hemisphere, June marked the start of berry season. Known as the Strawberry Moon, Blackberry Moon, Raspberry Moon, or Garden Moon, June's moon was dedicated to the berries ripening in the wild. Originally named by indigenous communities throughout Northern America and Canada, June is a welcome reminder that all things bloom in their own time.

Calling all poets, storytellers, and literary witches - would you like to cast a spell with us? Hosted by Pointy Hat Press, the Spooky Spring Series was inspired by haunted hearts, spectral travelers, and confessional poetry.

Is your journal brimming with springtime musings? Are there flowers scattered across the pages? Seeds embedded into the binding? Thorny tendrils leading you deeper into mystical, mysterious worlds?And (we’re all friends here, you can be honest), does it feel a bit spooky?

Sensual and chthonic, Witches and Goddess will cultivate this flower for spells of unfurling, blooming, and becoming. According to Roman myth, the goddess Venus adorned herself with scented rose petals and painted this flower's story, and the the pentagram, into the starry sky. In some tales, the Goddess of Love and Beauty is also credited as the mother of the rose.

Beltane is the inverse of Samhain, so when the Hawthorn trees bloom, the veil to the Otherworld thins. The Hawthorne tree is said to be protected by Bloddeuwedd, the Welsh Goddess of Flowers and Initiations. Like the bee seeks out the most fragrant blooms, Hawthorn's blossoms attract abundance and authenticity, and Bloddeuwedd's berries speak to our ancestral roots. Legend says if we're able to gain the fairies' trust, Bloddeuwedd offers us a bouquet of protective thorns for as long as our Beltane fires glow.

Hosted by Pointy Hat Press, our Spooky Spring Series was inspired by haunted hearts, spectral travelers, and confessional poetry. To join in on the Spooky Spring challenge, submit an original poem, song, sonnet, short essay (500 words or less), or illustration about ghosts, ghouls, witches, or whatever haunted chambers you're exploring this spring.

Spookiness is typically reserved for the dark half of the year, but who says the dead vanish when our gardens bloom? And who says haunted hearts cease to exist when the sun shines? When spring arrives, what happens to the ghosts of things left unsaid?