The Witches' Cottage Collection: 8-Hrs For Enchanting Sleep

Step into the Witches’ Cottage for an all-night seasonal journey designed to ground your nervous system and invite deep, enchanting sleep. Tonight's 8 hours of continuous storytelling weaves together your favorite stories into one continuous thread of magic, nature, and healing comfort.

Settle into your favorite nook and allow the soft sounds of the forest and the kind, nurturing souls of the three sisters to help you return to softness. It's time to dream away.

Transcript

Enchanted Nights at the Witch's Cottage is a collection of cozy stories for sleep that will bring you to a magical forest where the cares of the material world melt away under the gentle guidance of three beloved witches.

Continuous storytelling weaves adventures through this mystical realm as it becomes a home away from home.

At the Witch's Cottage,

You find solace and encouragement to embrace your true essence.

In the eyes of the ethereal sisters,

The trivialities of everyday life hold no sway.

They always welcome you where you are at,

Loving your most authentic self and reminding you of the powerful magic that resides in you.

Wherever you may go in space and whenever in time you may find yourself,

The nurturing energy of the three witches is just beyond the ethereal curtain.

Explore the potent healing powers of nature through the ever-changing seasons.

With each story you learn more about these ethereal sisters and in turn about yourself.

Revel as dreams become reality and the boundaries between the mundane and the magical blur into nothingness.

It's time to dream away.

I'd like to welcome you to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I am Michelle and as you delve into this beguiling escape,

You may think of my voice as that of a sleep fairy and dear old friend on this journey through time and space.

I am here to remind you that you are safe,

You are cared for,

And you deserve to take the time you need just for you to rejuvenate.

Free of any judgment,

Let your imagination soar before you cross over the entrancing bridge to your sleeping life.

Let go of my voice at any time you like.

If sleep calls to you and you are ready to surrender to its comforts,

Remember this tale and this meditation is by your design.

However you see fit to your whims and fancy and snugly tucked into your bed or a safe place for sleeping,

Feel your heavy eyes close upon your tired eyes.

Wiggle out any tension before getting cozy.

Focus on the darkness created by your closed eyes like shutters on the windows of a home.

You go deeper within as you take in a big breath.

So deep you may yawn and feel as if you could float away into the night and then you sigh it all out.

Make a sound as you let go of the day,

Sinking down.

And inhale again as a sensation of floating returns and you find you are levitating above your bed.

As you exhale,

The coverings on your window are carried on a breeze.

As your window opens,

You begin to drift outside your window up and up towards the starry night sky.

You are soaring above your home and town as if swimming through the crisp night air.

The dimness of the landscape below is illuminated by the sliver of a crescent moon.

You look to the moon as it gets closer and closer,

Feeling a smile form on your face,

Mimicking the curves of the silver lunar beauty.

You hear a whisper and look to see there is an enchantress carelessly lounging within the half circle of the moon.

She is otherworldly with a pearly glow and a dress that cascades around her body like the waves of an incoming tide.

Her long silvery hair flows down her back and she points to you before curling her index finger in a come-hither motion.

As you get closer,

She says your name and asks,

Are you ready for an adventure?

You feel a safe sense of trust as you see her kind twinkling eyes and nod.

Floating so close you could almost touch the moon,

She reaches out and touches your shoulder,

Whispering,

This night is all for you.

As she touches you,

Your body begins to shimmer and you tingle from head to toe in a sensation of warmth.

Your form changes while you drift back towards the earth like stardust.

You are floating on a crisp breeze through another dimension in time and space.

The cells of your body have dispersed into a swarm of glowing sparkles raining down from a night sky.

Twinkling like a swarm of fireflies,

You softly fall through the lush autumn hued leaves of a dark enchanted forest.

All of you comes back together in human form as your feet land on the purple black floor of an enchanted forest.

You balance on the damp rich earth that smells of wet tobacco and sweet decaying leaves.

Adorned in tightly laced boots and a tailored wool coat cinched at the waist,

The wool of the coat rides on the soft winds like a parachute.

The gnarled trunks and branches of the tree come to life,

Beckoning you to enter the depths of the forest.

A torch magically appears in your hand and you feel the smooth sanded wooden handle and watch as the flame flickers and brightens the pathway in an orange marmalade glow.

You hear the trees whispering to you,

Follow the path to the heart of the woods.

The branches of a tree dance on the night's air as it whispers,

You are right where you belong.

The crescent moon,

Now barely visible beneath the lush canopy of leaves and peak fall colors,

Is high in the sky.

You can still feel the encouraging warmth of the enchantress in the moon as you carry on down the path.

A soft mist like a lavender veil wafts through the animated trees just above the forest floor.

The soft pastel hue conjures feelings of inspiration,

Wisdom,

And magic.

And as you walk alone,

You reflect on the healing you seek from the revered witches.

Your body melts in the surrender that comes from a long walk in a new environment and you feel flexible and bendy.

Every place of tension in your body is now free.

You feel better physically and mentally and emotionally than you have ever felt before or at least in a very long time.

In the near distance,

Fairies illuminate the darkness like a rainbow of Chinese lanterns.

As you get closer,

You hear them laughing and singing quietly.

It lures you in until they take notice,

Greeting you as if they have been waiting for your arrival.

The fairies fly around you until you are in a circle of their vibrant illumination.

You feel the gentle winds created by their transparent kaleidoscope wings that light up around you.

The wise leader of the fairies flies towards the tip of your nose and you look into her emerald green eyes.

Telepathically,

She sends you the thought that you will find healing tonight.

Many blissful things are to come if you let your heart believe.

She then flies towards your chest and presses her tiny palm against your heart center.

A vibrant green light emanates from her small hand,

Growing in size as it connects to you.

You instantly feel sensations of love and an openness to receiving.

Your shoulder blades draw together as if they were to kiss and your heart feels full.

She tells you that you are now able to receive the gifts of the enchanted forest.

A beautiful red fox cuts through the fog,

Beckoned by the circle of fairies.

The lead fairy explains that the fox will you to the witch's cottage.

You thank her and the rest of the fairies as their nocturnal song plays on in your head like a soothing song.

Their music is like a cool bucket of water poured over the sparks of your thoughts that now come to a silence in a feeling of deep gratitude.

The fox is agile and you walk behind him,

Intoxicated by the internal enlightenment that makes you feel light and carefree.

With each step,

You feel your feet hovering above the forest's floor before landing again on the earth's damp softness.

You focus on his bushy copper tail and its white underside that acts like a reflector of light,

Helping to guide the way.

The slithering dark path comes to a clearing where pumpkins grow on thick green vines.

Close to the ground,

They come to life as the fox approaches them.

Like a Broadway marquee,

The pumpkins are illuminated by handwritten words that light up the forest.

You take in their messages as you walk by.

Hope.

Peace.

Joy.

Believe.

Love.

Destiny.

Magic.

You feel the power of these illuminated words and you stay in stride with the weaving fox to continue on.

You smell an exotic aroma that wafts on a trail of smoke and smells of burning wood,

Cinnamon,

Cloves,

And something tangy that you cannot identify.

The fox comes to a babbling brook with dark metallic violet waters that sparkle from silver bubbles and bioluminescence.

A footbridge magically appears out of the mist and the fox guides you across it before the bridge mysteriously evaporates.

Then you see it.

The cottage belonging to the witches.

A shower of stars arcing like a rainbow pours onto the fantastic dwelling in the heart of the woods.

The cottage is made of ancient stones and juniper wood logs with a thatched roof.

Juniper is known for offering protection by banishing anything injurious to health and it offers peace,

Health,

And love.

In front of the cottage is a garden surrounded by a whimsical fence of knotty logs that twist like black licorice.

Healing plants including lavender and sage,

Chamomile,

And evening primrose flourish within the garden as they are cast in the darkness of the night.

The fox runs up the uneven wooden steps to a deck arriving at the heavy door with a cast-iron knocker.

He turns back and meets your gaze.

You place your torch in an ornamental bracket that hangs from the deck and ascend the stairs,

Feeling as your coat dusts their surface.

You grasp the cold metal ring knocker and knock it against the door three times.

The door instantly opens on its own into the cottage and you bask in the golden glow of light from tapered candles that hang from a chandelier and a roaring fire in the kitchen burning beneath a cauldron.

The witches see you before you can make them out as your eyes adjust to the light.

The fox stands in the threshold and nods approvingly to the witches before dashing off into the night.

You see the three witches and each one of them remind you of someone from your past.

Although you cannot precisely remember who,

You feel a sense of trust that goes lifetimes back.

Feeling as if you have come across each witch before.

If only in a childhood dream buried deep within the sacred confines of your memories.

They seem to be of varying ages,

Sisters of a sacred tribe with beauty that comes from their sparkling eyes that connect and see all before you have revealed a thing.

The most energetic and youthful looking witch comes to you dressed in an emerald green and black velvet medieval style gown.

She is the witch of healing all things,

Be them physical or emotional or mental.

Her hair cascades down her back and she smiles,

Instantly giving you a feeling of vivacity.

Your attention goes to your pulse,

Feeling it as a reminder of your own life force.

A tiny black cat runs across the ancient unpolished wide wooden boards of the cottage and comes to smell your coat.

The second witch,

A little older,

Is dressed in a ruby and purple robe.

Her special powers involve love in all the forms that it comes.

She is nurturing and greets you,

Helping you to remove your coat and hang it on a hook by the door that is artistically crafted to resemble the gnarled tree branches of the forest.

The exotic aroma you smell deep in the woods is now the heavy perfume that carries across the room.

Spicy yet sweet,

It evokes the comforts of a home in fall.

The third witch continues to observe from afar as if in a dreamy trance.

She is adorned in a gown of royal blue velvet with a gold brocade that flows like the waves of the ocean.

She reveals to you that her specialty is a focus on time,

Healing wounds of the past while creating spells in the present that set you on the path for your best future.

The witches bring a chair to the center of the room,

Placed beneath the candelabra that hangs from the ceiling.

You take a seat as the youthful witch gets on her knees and removes your shoes and wool socks.

The witch of love brings a bowl of steamy water and floating flowers and herbs.

She places your bare feet into it.

The witch of time comes closer and places her warm palm on your forehead as her thumb presses lightly on your third eye,

Massaging it.

In this moment,

You feel heavy,

Sinking into the chair as your muscles twitch from the long walk and begin to melt into the warmth of the room.

Your feet and ankles release tension,

Tingling in the steamy floral water of the bowl.

The witch of healing assesses your feet,

Finding acupressure points where she presses and intuits places in your body that can benefit from her healing potions.

You close your eyes as the witch of time continues to massage your third eye and it feels as if a door has opened.

Your intuition is suddenly enlivened and with your eyes still closed,

The sounds of the witches at work becomes a hypnotic shuffle.

You feel like you are in a lucid dream,

Floating through time.

You are on a raft through the lavender mist of the enchanted forest,

Weightless and guided by destiny.

And you see yourself in the future.

You are not alone.

You are accompanied by earlier versions of you as a young child and as a teen.

And together the you of the past and the you of today are witnessing the future you,

Living out your dream life.

The things you have wanted are right before you.

You sense the time and work it took to get there but somehow knowing and seeing makes it all worth the effort because you are so sure it will happen.

This dream may be something you have not told another soul because it is so sacred.

You worry the opinions of others could taint it but the witch of time knows and she helps ease you into accepting the reality of this deeply set vision for your life.

She says to you,

It's not too late.

You have time.

You open your eyes and come back to the witch's cottage.

The witch of love brings you a tonic that is steamy and carbonated.

She says it is to help you be reminded of the love you feel for yourself and your life.

The witch of time you to let go of your past as you sip this love-inducing elixir.

For it is the you of today you must accept to move towards the you of your dreams.

All that has happened in time for a reason to get you to the healing cottage on this magical night.

The witch of healing has a minty balm that she rubs on your neck and shoulders,

Massaging deeply into your muscles and doing the knots of life and stress.

You sip the elixir which tastes sweet and spicy and tingles like soda made with fresh ginger.

It warms your throat and belly,

Comforting you and settling your stomach.

The witches form a circle around you and clasp hands.

They raise their arms overhead towards the thatched roof.

For a moment the roof floats away and you are beneath the showering stars and nymph in the crescent moon.

Your chair rises as you float and the witches levitate as well and you are reminded that you are a part of this vast universe.

You are part of powers and energy that cannot be seen or heard and yet they are still there.

You're part of something infinite.

A welcome visitor in a world that will outlast you.

The witches lower their arms as the roof gracefully lands back on the cottage like autumn leaves collecting on the forest floor.

Your chair lands on the floor and you smile.

Your eyes focus on the fire roaring beneath the cauldron that the witches now fill with lavender and chamomile.

The soporific smells fill the room,

Relaxing you and making you feel quite tired.

As you take a big yawn,

The witch of healing clasps your hand with her warm strong fingers.

She guides you from the room as the other witches tidy up.

She leads you to a hidden staircase that twirls around the back of the cottage.

You take one dusty step at a time until you arrive to an alcove beneath the angled thatch roof.

A single candle illuminates the cozy nook as she leads you to a bed.

There's a white cotton gown beneath a sprig of lavender.

She hugs you gently and encourages you to go to sleep for the night.

The alcove is as cozy as the hollow of a juniper tree.

You change into the soft gown and peel back the heavy quilt on the bed.

Feeling the weight of the blanket on you,

The witch of love comes in to tuck you in.

Brushing your hair back,

She soothes you in a motherly way and you sense the deepest of unconditional love when you look into her glittery eyes.

She urges you to fall asleep to sweet dreams.

Gently massaging your eyelids and temples as you start to drift away towards sleep.

You listen as her dress rustles as she leaves the alcove and her boots click on the steps of the stairs.

You smell lavender in the air as you take in a deep breath and contently sigh it out.

Sinking deeper into the bed as the autumn wind stirs leaves on the thatched roof.

You let go and surrender to the dreams that will guide you to magical lands and deep peace.

Drifting down towards sleep,

Imagining you are floating across the starry night sky and crescent moon as the lady in the moon smiles at you.

Inhaling the lavender air,

Letting it go.

Light and carefree,

You let go.

Welcoming sleep or returning to the witches in another dreamy adventure.

Return to the witch's cottage.

You drift above your mattress carried on a soft tepid breeze that blows into your room.

Your lips form a soft smile and as you drift like an autumn leaf,

You sail on the breeze to the outside world.

You soar up and up above your home towards a star-filled sky.

The dim land below is illuminated by moonlight.

For a moment you imagine being seated in the crook of a cantaloupe- peering down on the sleepy landscape below.

And as you drift,

You feel the similar feelings of hope and enchantment that led you to the witch's cottage at another point in time.

The familiarity wraps around you with the feeling of a downy warm blanket that once comforted you as a child.

With a sense of safety,

You are free to welcome adventure and know that wherever you go,

It will all be okay.

The summer was long and defied the high hopes you held for freedom and joy.

Sometimes things happen beyond your control and the art of acceptance is given time to be fine-tuned.

Sometimes the clouds get in the way,

As Joni Mitchell once sang in dulcet tones.

The clouds of this gloomy summer caused you to seek out the enchanted forest.

Moments of disenchantment and unmet expectations reminded you something magical happens when you can no longer continue on the same path.

When your need for light and joy becomes your utmost priority.

At this point,

It is no longer worth staying in the darkness.

The beauty in the world and the beauty in you has been there all along,

But the mighty still grey clouds of the summer made you forget that the sun still shines on the other side.

The final weeks of summer led you to return to the enchanted forest where the witch's cottage exists.

The idea came to you in a dream brought by an ethereal fairy nestled in a crescent moon.

Her urgent night whispers beckoned you to this forest of healing.

You awoke one morning with a deep knowing that it was time for an escape.

The stress and noise of the modern world had brought you to the brink.

The only feasible solution was to immerse yourself in nature and to heal.

You had made it to the last proverbial drop before the cup overflowed.

You left on this mission without any concern for how long it would take.

It would take as long as necessary to reconnect with yourself and to remember all the reasons that life is beautiful.

It was near the end of summer when you magically landed and were welcomed by the three witches again who encouraged you to stay as long as you needed.

For them,

Time was often irrelevant and more attention was paid to the phases of the moon than to the ticking hands of a clock.

You arrived with an empty velvet bag in your favorite color that was draped over your shoulder.

This bag had a purpose.

It was meant to collect moments.

These moments would become lifelong reminders of how good it could be to be alive.

The forest had always reminded you why you were gifted this life.

To fully experience the sensations of being in your body and sharing your talents and insights.

You came here to be the best version of yourself.

To be forgiving and nurturing and to know that you have done your best even when you wished to do better.

It took some time for the peace of the forest to settle into your bones.

When the softness took over,

You lived through each day feeling youthful and vibrant.

Your muscles remembered how to move through space with ease as if you were weightlessly swimming through the crisp evening air.

You felt weightless in the forest because you shed the weight of other people's opinions and the constructs of modern society.

You could once again hear your inner voice in the stillness.

It loudened each new day.

This compass that understood your life's direction more than anyone else ever could.

Your powers began to glow and you could see the golden light shining in your heart center as your passion for life reawakened.

Beneath the light of the moon,

Your chest beamed like a mason jar of lightning bugs as your vitality returned.

You revisited the purple-black damp floor of the forest for the last harvest of the lavender fields.

You walked across the cool rich earth of the woodlands and inhaled the sweet tobacco aromas of the forest floor,

Perfumed by the minty aroma of evergreen trees.

You inhaled the fresh air that felt cleaner than any breaths you had taken in some time.

Every inhalation purified you from the inside out.

You watched your body detox with every sigh.

Thoughts like words typed in black on the breeze,

Traveling like a smoke trail through the canopy of trees before they evaporated in the sunlight.

Your body began to remember this is what it is like to feel good.

The good feeling led to happiness and peace.

You remembered your way through the enchanted forest,

Led by your intuition.

Gentle tugs at your solar plexus were the soft reminders to turn here or there.

On your first visit,

The whispering trees led you to the heart of the forest,

But now you no longer needed their guidance as you were able to trust yourself with each step.

A soft mist like a silver tall veil hovered above the forest floor and your bare legs.

You felt the cool tiny droplets land on your skin like silk sheets.

You returned to the white birch trees with our papery bark and slender strong trunks.

They reminded you about the balance of softness and strength,

Being delicate and yet fierce.

At nightfall,

The fairies would come out and dance in the air,

Lighting up the woods like a rainbow of silk lanterns.

Their kaleidoscope wings would playfully flutter,

Bringing the reminder of the importance of fun.

Distant memories of the enchanted forest appeared like vibrant layers of a scrapbook page.

Your time in the forest was a salve that soothed sparks of thoughts in your mind like a cool bucket of stream water poured over the embers of a fire.

When you arrived at the woodlands cottage,

You found the three witches coming in from the lavender fields.

Having harvested the last of summer's lavender,

The witches talents could extend harvests and nurture blooms well beyond a typical season.

The ancient stones and juniper wood logs of the cottage appeared gilded in the late summer light.

The thatched roof rose over the cozy dwelling like bales of hay stacked in a wagon for a hayride.

The witches built their home to serve as a sanctuary.

Every element in its construction offered a healing property.

Juniper brought protection,

Peace,

Health,

And love by banishing anything injurious to one's health.

A red fox sat patiently outside the garden as if awaiting your arrival.

This sprightly animal has long held spiritual meaning in Celtic beliefs as having the powers of a spirit guide.

He once guided you to the cottage,

But just as the whispering trees have silenced on this trip,

He lets you find your way on your own.

Your inner voice gathered strength this time around and replaced the need for guidance.

The three witches stood near a whimsical fence of knotty logs that twisted like chocolate licorice and surrounded the garden.

They hugged their arms around overflowing boughs of lavender and simultaneously looked up when you arrived.

In a moment of silence,

They took you in with their warm gaze.

You knew from their empathetic eyes they could see deep into your soul and were eager to tend to your needs.

Just like on your first encounter,

You felt a sense of trust that goes lifetimes back.

Their kind faces glowed in streaks of afternoon light that surrounded them like a halo.

And just as the first time you met,

Their presence conjured childhood dreams buried deep within the sacred vaults of your memory.

These dreams insisted that you had met with them many times before now.

Korra,

The most energetic and youthful witch,

Always dressed in emerald green and black velvet,

Came to you first.

She hugged you against the bouquet of lavender.

You inhaled the soothing fragrance.

Korra's powers were known to heal all things,

Whether they were physical or emotional or mental.

Whenever you were in her presence,

You feel your life force and energy flowing through your veins.

Your attention always turns to your pulse and vitality and your body is always covered in a wave of warmth.

Ava,

The middle sister,

Often dresses in a ruby and purple robe.

Her special powers focus on love in all forms.

She remained in the garden area with Karla,

The eldest witch,

To sun-dry the lavender.

Karla,

Adorned in royal blue and gold,

Often looked to the world in a dreamy trance,

As if watching the layers of time that only she could see.

Karla didn't just see the present moment,

She saw all moments of the past and possible futures existing and playing out in different trajectories.

Karla could heal past wounds.

She created spells to set seekers on the path for their best possible futures.

What was it that you most sought when you returned to the witch's cottage?

Whatever it was,

Your healing began slowly.

When you took away the expectations for it to be a fast process,

You forgot about the process altogether.

Your days became a series of early mornings,

Awakening in a cozy alcove to the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves in the forest.

The last days of summer poured light into the uniquely shaped windows of your dwelling and particles in the air danced like gold dust around you.

You rose each morning feeling deeply rested from dream-filled sleep that helped you heal Before bed each night,

Karla would read ancient passages about the passing of time while you gathered with her sisters around a fire.

After these gatherings,

Your dreams became vignettes that blended like oil pastels on a canvas.

Colorful.

Artistic.

Entertaining.

Imaginative.

The answers you sought on this expedition came to you unexpectedly and spontaneously throughout the day in whispers carried on the fragrant forest breeze.

You worked each day helping to gather wood and draw fire beneath the cauldron.

You fed the animals and the black cat named Solomith who would rub her shiny fur against you as if she owned you.

You learned nothing was to be wasted.

Scraps and refuge would be renewed into something useful,

Be it for a spell or the most mundane of life's necessities.

You spent days listening to twigs snap beneath your boots when you foraged for wild berries and items in nature that the witches requested.

You hiked atop a mountain at sunset and felt your chest heave and delight as you gulped the mountain air with a sense of triumph.

With this time in nature,

You forgot about the things that once worried you.

They seemed so insignificant and useless in this timeless landscape.

You remembered what you thought life was supposed to be about.

No longer could gadgets or modern constructs get between you and taking care of your most basic needs for survival.

Rugged at times,

It also felt luxurious.

You were granted the luxury of freedom,

Quietude,

And harmony with your environment.

Each day the witches would brew teas and draw baths with wildflowers and local fruits and herbs from their garden.

The smells were intoxicating and the flavors were complex and told a story.

The sensations and outcomes from each nurturing bath and tincture,

Each meal and tea,

Made you feel fantastic.

At times you wondered if the love and passion they put into their work were enough to heal you.

It had been so long since so much energy was focused on you.

You made sure to return the favor by helping out each day in any way you could.

A circle of love and appreciation formed around you and the three witches.

It would often become visible at night.

You would see the soft amber glow around the four of you when you gathered in the clearing by the cottage.

It was a sphere of light that felt warm and soothing.

At times it caused your scalp to tingle and that energy to flow down your spine and over your skin like a soft massage.

Marmalade sparks would fly from the bonfire towards the dark silhouette of treetops.

They would float towards the silver stars,

Create a mosaic of silver and gold.

And this was one of many moments you collected in your satchel for safekeeping and to remind you of the light whenever darkness creeps in.

You learned that nature is the gifter of opulence.

The fairies would draw towards your nightly gathering and dance across the sky like fireworks on the 4th of July.

Korra would be the first to join them in a spontaneous dance to a rhythm that only she could feel in her heart.

You would feel the desire to be silly and dance as well.

This is how she helped revive you.

Ava would hold her heart in sway.

Her heart was a vessel that could feel and contain all the love of the forest on those nights.

And Karla would watch and sometimes wave a hand over the fire.

You and the other witches would gather around it and become quiet.

The flames would rise and lick the night air rich like honey.

And visions of the past and future would appear in each flame.

You saw versions of your younger selves dancing and happy.

And then you saw yourself well into the future.

Dancing and happy as well,

Yet different.

And while all these versions were unified with the person you were in the present,

This observer in an enchanted forest,

They managed to speak to different parts of you.

Karla helped you remember the parts of yourself that you deeply loved and lost along the way.

She opened your eyes to the person you longed to become.

In the rhythm of the morning walks and nightly fireside dances,

You became more of yourself.

Your body healed and moved with fluidity,

Free of inflammation or pain,

Free of worry or self-doubt.

You trusted yourself infinitely.

Trusted that you knew all you needed to know and would learn all you needed to learn when the time called for it.

It is now your last day that you walk along the sparkling brook that runs through the whispering trees.

You feel a longing to return to home with all the knowledge you have gained.

You yearn to give your life another try as this new version of yourself.

You walk on the damp earth covered in morning dew.

The leaves have begun to change,

Letting go of their verdant hues to transform into shades of magenta,

Mahogany,

Fiery orange,

Yellow,

And gold.

Beneath the jewel tones of early autumn,

The morning dew droplets glow like crystal balls.

Karla,

The Witch of Time,

Has told you how the light changes this time of year.

As daylight hours wane,

The sun is more golden and rich,

Like waves of clover honey poured over the forest.

The dew drops sparkle and act like prisms and you hear Karla's voice carry through the forest.

Time is but an illusion,

My dear.

Images come to life inside each droplet and you are suddenly standing in a field of memories.

You taste a sweetness on your tongue,

Like melting chocolate or a drizzle of caramel.

You swallow and feel a warm wave travel down your throat and soothe you deep within.

The morning air is the chilliest it has been since you arrived at the witch's cottage and you relish this internal warmth.

The field of memories is simple,

Varied,

And pleasant.

You remember your favorite places in nature,

Your most beloved people and animals,

Activities that you enjoy,

The feelings you felt when completing a goal.

You walk towards a knoll that is layered with a carpet of colorful leaves covered with morning dew.

These droplets contain memories,

Showing the first time you experienced things.

Your lips form a smile and you inhale the smell of sweet autumn leaves because you realize there are many things you've tried for the first time.

It makes the idea of more new beginnings feel empowering and inspiring.

You think of the things you still wish to try for the first time.

You walk down the stream and follow it to the cottage where you will enjoy the last afternoon with the witches.

You look to the cerulean blue sky to see the squiggling black line of wood smoke that weaves between the canopy of colorful autumn leaves from the chimney on the thatched roof.

You walk up the creaking stairs and enter the cottage to find the three witches setting the table for an early dinner.

Tapered candles flicker on the long hand-carved wooden table that is centuries old.

The witches prepared your favorite meal and its comforting smells fill the open space.

A roaring fire warms the room and adds a percussive crackle and pop.

The kitchen is basic and functional and contains a cast-iron wood stove and washtub.

The long velvet gowns of the witches make soft swooshes as they dust the wooden planks of the floor.

They invite you to sit and then join you.

Together,

Like a family,

You enjoy the meal.

This is another moment you wish to place in your satchel for safekeeping.

It is a reminder that you may be born into a family,

But your life's journey is abundant with opportunities to create your chosen family.

Baby pumpkins and ornate gourds from the garden scatter across a lace tablecloth.

Ava brings your favorite dessert and sets it in front of you.

Carla lights a tiny candle with the flame of a tapered candle on the table and places it in the sweet dessert.

The witches form a circle around you and encourage you to blow out this candle to celebrate your new healing journey going forward.

You look into the sparkling eyes of your dear allies in this world and consider the role they have played and the changes you have made and the future you desire.

You look to Cora and remember to dance,

To move your body,

To remember how good it can be to feel this alive.

Ava's sweet smile reminds you to love.

Love may conquer all and so may light.

Carla stands and wraps her arm around you and you feel her velvet cape against your cheek.

You smell her exotic perfume.

She reminds you that you may not control time,

But you may always control your choices through time.

You may always give yourself the chance to heal.

You take in a deep breath and blow out the candle.

You feel yourself believing that anything is possible when you set your mind to it.

But even more importantly,

This time for serenity and peace has informed you of what you may want to experience in this life.

It has realigned you with your inner compass,

The guide that you've always most needed.

After dinner,

The witches sing and dance and you join them in what has become a routine.

You move your body with the bliss of a toddler first learning to dance.

You feel the freedom to move for the sake of feeling good and alive as has taught you.

It's been a long time since you last felt self-conscious about anything.

The wind whips around the cottage with the chill of a fall night.

You hear the sound of a distant loon cry out and the melody travels through the enchanted forest and over the sounds of the witches dancing and singing.

When you can dance no more,

The witches prepare a sleeping tea made from the lavender they harvested the day you arrived.

The tea is brewed with chamomile flowers that float like lily pads on the silky liquid.

You take a sip and taste honey and the floral notes of the soporific blend.

It makes you feel even more relaxed and tired.

Come morning you will be returned to your bed at home,

But on this last night you may relish the sanctuary in the woods,

Dream the dreams you were meant to dream.

You say goodnight to the witches and retreat to the familiar hidden staircase that spirals around the back of the cottage.

You have memorized every creak and soft groan of each stair.

You ascend the stairs to the cozy alcove beneath the angled thatched roof.

The light of a full moon pours into the diamond-shaped window above your bed and casts the room in shimmering light.

On this night you encounter a patchwork quilt that is a gift from the witches.

Without you knowing,

They magically sourced fabrics that have been part of your life's journey and craftily stitched them together.

Worn plush material from a beloved toy,

Your first blanket,

Your favorite shirt,

And other joyous articles now create the most beautiful and softest quilt you have ever seen.

You bring it to your nose,

Take in the familiar scents of your life that have brought you the most peace and moments of intimacy.

Only you know what they are,

Yet somehow the witches brought them back to you.

Your name is embroidered at the top of the quilt in a beautiful handwritten script.

You run your fingers across it and smile.

You have promised the witches to return the kindness and love to others in your waking life when you begin a new day.

You change into a cotton nightshirt that is soft and cool against your skin.

You peel back the heavy quilt and climb into the plush bed.

Your sleeping alcove is as cozy as a hollow in a tree.

Each night during this expedition,

You have slept deeply in this healing pod and dreamt the most beautiful dreams.

And each new night the dreams only got better.

Take in a deep breath and contently sigh.

Your body sinks deeper into the bed and your eyes close.

The autumn wind stirs leaves that have landed on the thatched roof and the sound fills you with gratitude for the warmth of the cottage.

You let go and surrender to the dreams that will guide you to magical lands and deep peace.

Drifting and floating between worlds,

You are ready to cross over the magical bridge to where deep healing sleep awaits and reunite with the witches once more.

Winter at the Witches' Cottage.

Those who don't believe in magic will never find it,

But those who do are so used to discovering enchantment that they find it in the mundane.

A window covered in lacy winter frost that melts in the morning sun.

In oversized flurries and sparkling mica embedded in a sidewalk.

In rays of sunlight shining on butterfly wings and conversations between squirrels hoarding acorns in winter.

In a sweet smell of wood smoke trails across the frosty winter air at twilight.

In subtle changes in the body throughout a day or week or even the changes that come over a lifetime.

Magic is as present as you make it.

The witches always knew this.

They knew all that one needed to heal could be found within.

The questions of a curious soul are answered in the darkness of night.

Of course it is easy in the modern world to get lost and go against one's inner voice to conform and meet the conditioning of the times.

This is not something the witches would ever endorse.

They wish that at the end of each person's life they may look back on a life of purpose,

Joy,

Freedom,

And service.

Through an ethereal landscape on a wintry night,

The witches sense your need to celebrate your individuality and reconnect with the most beloved parts of yourself.

Whenever you are invited to their cottage,

Memories of the sleeping alcove and enchanted forest come flooding back in a welcome stream of serene feelings of safety.

Blurred and dreamlike,

These memories are like those of early childhood.

Like watercolor renderings vibrant in color,

Sparkling and fluid.

You recall the smells of herbal tonics made from flowers and plants the witches foraged in the woodlands.

The cozy alcove in their cottage is a healing pod for deep sleep.

You recall the rustle of their elegant velvet frocks as they brushed softly against your skin when you pulled lavender and sage from the garden in summer.

You return to the witches when a crescent snow moon appears in the sky,

Visible in the late afternoon hours.

You walk on the sparkling packed snow and listen to it crunch beneath your feet.

The blanket of snow takes on the hue of cotton candy pink as a fiery Sun sets beyond the mountain peaks that surround the woodlands.

The moon is like a sliver of a fingernail,

Dainty and slight.

Raspberry pink and tangerine clouds swirl around the delicate moon and cast it in pink.

And so the moon appears a pastel hue of peachy pink.

When you enter the forest you can hear a familiar whisper on the frosty breeze.

You are right where you belong.

It feels good to belong.

It feels good to be on target and feel you are doing well despite missteps and challenges that have been beyond your control.

You may have taken on too much but alas that is easy to do in modern times when one cannot easily escape a constant stream of news and information.

In the enchanted woods it is easy to be present,

To be undistracted and to reconnect with nature.

There is no judgment or implication of how things ought to be.

Raccoons and squirrels nest in the hollows of their chosen trees,

Not at all concerned with what is thought of their homes.

They gravitate towards what is safe and warm and cherish the protection from the whipping February winds.

A bird sings out its song with no concern of how it sounds for it was born to sing.

As you walk through the woods you wonder about what you would like to do and experience this magical life that is uniquely yours.

When in the forest you are reminded to live life how you choose.

Your inner voice becomes louder and reminds you of what you like and what matters to you.

You're the only person to ever grasp what it is like to live through the traumas,

The milestones,

The challenges,

The blessings,

And the experience of being in your body.

And that journey is why you are here,

After all.

You no longer cared to keep up with the speed of the modern world.

You no longer wish to feel that you're falling behind because that's just an idea,

Not a fact.

The witches await your arrival certain that rest is deserved and that healing arrives in the moments of silence.

When the universe aligns with your intentions,

You need not work so hard.

And more is manifested in these times than in the points where you have strived or overworked yourself into misery.

Once led by the light of fairies,

The fairies now hibernate in their secret dwellings covered with a sheath of glittering ice.

You no longer need their guidance,

Having returned with your inner compass to guide you towards the heart of the woods.

Twigs snap beneath your boots,

Delivered to the forest floor on a windy night.

The trees have been stripped to their bones and their branches are covered with ice and snow that glow in pink and lavender hues as they reflect the sunset sky.

The winter reveals the resilience of deciduous trees.

The skinny brown branches reach for the sky like fingers grasping for the last rays of sunlight while the trunks and roots stubbornly grasp at the earth as if to say,

It's okay,

I am home.

Internally you understand the need to be rooted in a sense of safety and home while your heart and mind also long for more.

The sky becomes a deep navy blue and amethyst.

The stars twinkle through the silhouette of winding branches.

The evergreen trees surrender to the weight of snow that coats their needles like vanilla frosting and tiny icicles dangle towards the ground.

In the summer months,

Their piney fragrance is lush and overwhelming to the point you can taste it.

But in the snap of the cold,

Your olfactory system picks up subtle peppery and minty notes that marry the metallic smell of snow.

A red fox you have met before appears and this time feels like an old friend.

He always senses your arrival and has led you to the witch's cottage on prior trips.

And while he intuitively knows that you are wise enough to find your way,

He still appears to look after you.

It pleases you to have an unspoken exchange when you look into his copper eyes.

You feel warmed from head to toe by his welcome before he dashes off into the shadows.

The spicy sweet smell of burning wood and the smell of freshly baked bread overwhelmed the muted smells of the frozen forest floor and clean air.

The witch's cottage glows from flickering candlesticks set on windowsills and a fire in the common area.

Bundled in your winter attire,

You are warm and comfortable.

Your muscles are tired in the best possible way,

For often they become tense when bracing in the cold.

But despite the heavy winter layers,

You feel light and carefree.

You have shed the invisible weight of your daily life and the conditioning and opinions of anyone but yourself.

A rustic wooden gate wraps around the cottage like licorice twists covered in snow.

Your gloved hand dusts off the snow of the door handle and icicles glow and glimmer like holiday lights.

Your inner voice becomes loud with these words.

This is my life.

I do what I want.

I am free to be whatever I want to be.

I am free.

I am free.

A smile forms on your face and the cold night air tingles your lips.

The witches,

Like the fox,

Sensed your arrival the moment your boots first crunched on the path through the forest.

The cottage door flies open and the three witches come running down the steps to the walkway.

Their long skirts dust the snow in a soothing swoosh.

The rustic gate door swings open and puffs of snow fall like explosive shimmering white clouds as they land on the ground.

The witches welcome you in a group hug and it is different than your earlier visits where everyone was more subdued and reverent.

You are one of the honorary coven members and trust has built over time.

You are no longer simply a visitor.

This is a homecoming.

One by one the witches press their hearts against yours and there is an electric exchange of energy that warms the center of love.

A loving sensation travels throughout your body.

Carla,

The oldest and sagest witch,

Looks at you and says,

The world can be a weary place but we are here to take care of you so that you'll leave renewed and revived.

You are led up the stairs into the warm embrace of the cottage.

The three witches help remove your layers and hang them on wooden hooks made from twisting branches.

In the forest,

Nothing is wasted and the witches honor this in their daily lives.

The woodlands are quiet.

The thick snow of the thatch roof forms another layer of insulation.

Sound is absorbed by the snow.

The cottage is like a warm cave.

In the dry heated air,

The embers of the fire crackle and pop.

The dining table is set for dinner and overflows with a feast in your honor.

Your favorite dishes have been prepared and the fragrant aromas take you back to blissful memories.

The witches believe cooking is a form of sorcery with various concoctions that come together and bring tastes that transport you instantly with ingredients that give life and good health.

The dinner is festive yet languid.

Laughter and joyous conversation fill the cottage as you pick up where you left off on your last visit.

As midnight approaches,

You and the witches gather around the fireplace.

You hold a velvet satchel in your hand that you've used in the past to collect moments when visiting.

This purple satchel was gifted to you by the witches on your first visit.

Now it contains a folded list of your intentions that you scrawled out per the witches instructions on the first night of the new snow moon.

It's not very often and certainly not a daily experience that someone asks you,

What do you want?

But this is a question the witches are focused on,

Especially during this trip.

Korra,

The youngest of the witches,

Is dressed in black and emerald green velvet.

Her red curls flow down her back and glow in the firelight.

She is the first to inquire about your intentions.

You unfold the paper and it is passed around.

She receives support from each witch.

Korra reacts with the exuberant gaze of a best friend who's known you for a long time.

Ava,

The middle sister,

Sits demurely by the fire and smiles at you like a beloved teacher.

Karla,

The eldest,

Specializes in spells for future goals and her gaze is maternal and worldly.

You are completely honest in writing down your intentions for your life and what you want because you know the witches would see through you.

They know when you're faking.

They know your authentic spirit.

When Karla lovingly looks at you,

Your confidence rises and you see the strongest version of yourself reflected in her glassy eyes.

The witches guide you to the window and you look out on the quiet night.

The sky glitters with stars and you see the crescent moon nestled between the silhouette of trees.

Each phase of the moon calls for a ritual and you will stay until the moon is full and high.

The waxing crescent moon on your first night gifts a time for nurturing yourself and your ideas.

Feeling tired,

Ava leads you to the alcove.

The bed is made with a fluffy comforter,

Illuminated by a silvery aura from the moonlight that pours through a skylight window.

Every night,

Weather permitting,

The moon will glow brighter.

On your first night,

You sleep soundly in a deep dream-filled rest that lasts until noon.

You awake and breakfast still waits for you as the witches go about their early afternoon chores,

Never scolding you or judging you.

They let you respond to your internal clock as you sleep in long spurts like a hibernating bear.

After breakfast,

You enjoy brisk walks by a frozen stream each afternoon.

The mountain air is so frigid that your eyes tear and the moisture in your nose freezes.

Everything feels crunchy.

You savor these sensations because they keep your attention focused on your physical being and your mind has no room for unnecessary thoughts.

Each walk becomes your daily meditation and somehow the Red Fox always anticipates your walk and meets you across the stream.

You walk at the same pace with the icy blue stream between you until you reach a frozen pond.

The fox will then dash off to its warm tree hollow and you return to the cottage.

Some late day afternoons,

You lay down in the alcove and watch gold specks of dust shimmer in the sunlight as you drift into a nap.

Sometimes you don't awaken until after sunset.

You help the witches prepare dinner each night,

Gathering potatoes and vegetables and grains from the root cellar.

After dinner,

Always satiated and full,

You gather by the fire.

You all wear wool socks knitted by Ava and rest your feet so close to the flames they become hot.

And with your feet warm,

At midnight the witches lead you to a snowy clearing where you move your body beneath the moonlight.

On some nights,

Snow flurries float in the air and silvery white clouds block the moon.

But you move in a ritual anyway.

Your breath condenses on the wintry air.

The often overlooked clouds that float from your mouth become magic to you again,

Like the first times you ever saw your breath.

You are free to be silly in your movements,

To stretch your limbs and shake your torso in any motion that feels good.

Some nights you stand with your legs frozen in stillness and sway only your shoulders in the direction of the night winds.

It's amazing how much freedom you have in your body when you are in a place that is safe and nurturing.

The moon becomes brighter each night.

When the moon is a quarter,

Karla instructs you to take actions towards your intentions.

And you do.

You give power to your words and create new patterns in your day consistently.

Sometimes it's as simple as casting away any thoughts of doubt and imagining the life you desire.

Not tied to results,

You are caught up in the wonderful processes of learning and allowing.

One night the sky becomes the color of the dark blue ink that sits atop the witch's desk in a tiny ceramic jar.

They use it to refill their fountain pens when journaling and writing manifestations.

More than half of the moon is illuminated and you feel it tug at you softly,

Urging you to continue to grow and change.

The moon has a pull on you,

Much like the pull it has on the sea.

You are welcome to invite a new version of yourself that the world has yet to see.

A version that you are excited to become.

One by one the witches into the cottage and you stand with your feet firmly in the snow.

Clouds roll in fast and it begins to snow.

The white aura of the moon breaks through the translucent clouds.

Celestial snowflakes land on a heavy embroidered cape loaned to you by Carla on the coldest nights.

You hear a wolf cry from the top of the mountain.

Her song echoes through the clearing,

Encouraging you to be brave and strong and to use your own voice.

The red fox appears at the edge of the clearing.

Like a spiritual guide,

He is always there to remind you that he's looking out for you.

As a deep wave of tranquility takes over you,

You are ready to return to the cottage with the understanding that your stay will soon be over.

But every day you grow stronger.

You feel more rested and relaxed.

Your body becomes light and fluid while your heart feels strong and your mind feels empowered.

Your heart rate is the lowest it has been in years.

You feel happy every day,

In tune with simple pleasures and free of internal conflict.

You let the past stay in the past.

You feel fulfilled and connected to your intentions.

You know this visit will stay with you for a long time and when you return to your normal life,

You will be changed in a way that the little things will no longer trigger you.

You'll react calmly and your body will regulate itself with ease.

In preparation for the full moon,

You help the witches make pillar candles.

Between layers of hot liquid wax,

You place slips of paper with your intentions written on them.

You add sprigs of sage and clear quartz gemstones that look like small jagged pieces of ice.

At sunset,

You place the candles in a bow window at the front of the cottage to bask in the moonlight.

The candles burn throughout the night.

After a light meal,

The witches lead you towards a barn that houses four horses.

One chestnut,

One white,

One black,

And one silvery blue.

Their lustrous manes are adorned in long satin ribbons in a rainbow of colors.

You climb upon one of the horses while the three witches climb onto the others.

The full snow moon shines into the open barn door,

Beckoning you into the night.

The red fox curiously stands outside the barn and watches as the four of you trot out towards the snowy clearing.

The night is majestic and the snowy field reflects the vibrant moon.

Anything feels possible.

The wind blows against your face and the borrowed cape sails on the breeze.

Sixteen hooves pound into the soft snow and leave their prints as evidence that you were here.

You lap around the field in circles,

Laughing and smiling.

Flurries fall and melt on your lips and cheeks.

You feel your heartbeat and a delicious feeling in your lungs.

The feeling that comes after a fit of giggles and a night spent dancing without a care in the world.

The sky is your canvas where you visualize all you want to manifest,

Now ready to receive all you have longed for.

You trust in the power of the full moon.

This night fills you with readiness and acceptance that you deserve to experience life to its fullest.

You deserve joy.

You deserve to see the dreams that were planted deep in your soul begin to sprout and grow.

Scott Stabile said,

Don't worry if you're making waves just by being yourself.

The moon does it all the time.

You pause in the field,

Sitting proudly atop your horse and look at the full snow moon for one last time.

You bask in its light and the witches gather around you on their horses.

The night is quiet and calm and the loving eyes of the witches turn to you with deep wisdom and pride that you have come to a place of peace and acceptance and you are ready to return home.

The horses make their way back towards the barn,

Leading you instead of you leading them.

They rest in their stables atop a bed of fresh dry hay.

Back at the cottage,

The candles have burned down and her crystals remain,

Basking in the and charging.

The moonlight clears them of old energy and they are renewed.

The witches hug you fiercely one last time and encourage you to come back whenever you need to.

You know that they mean it and they have become a chosen family.

You climb up the wooden stairs for the last night that you will spend in the alcove.

You nestle into the bed,

Cloaked in the light of the full snow moon,

And you drift towards sleep.

This night feels different than the others and you imagine you are floating on a luminous white cloud,

As soft and translucent as Gossamer.

You travel around the moon and through the stars,

Drifting deeper and deeper down into sleep and serenity.

Come morning you will awaken in your bed at home,

With the clear quartz crystals resting atop your pillow as proof that this was not just a dream.

But now,

In the comforting embrace of the night,

Are you may traverse through another realm.

In the comforting embrace of the night,

You may enjoy more enchanting seasons of healing at the cottage,

Or welcome the sweet comforts of sleep.

A time for renewal at the witch's cottage.

Spring is a special season for renewal and out of the blue,

The three witches invited you for an annual celebration at their cottage.

The witches knew,

Having witnessed your sleeping dreams with your permission,

That you were bogged down by the chaos of the world.

The oldest sister,

Karla,

Felt the longing in your heart.

This saudade came in waves of nostalgia for something that once was,

And sometimes for something that you couldn't put your finger on.

Maybe it was something that existed,

Or maybe it was something you hoped for and experienced only in your dreaming life.

The feeling persisted at times,

With a soft tug at your heart,

Or a whisper in your ear,

As you thought,

There must be more than this.

The witches were always more than aware of all that went unseen by most people.

Their kindness on your visits sprouted out of the soil of yearning to nurture.

They served as a constant reminder that everything was once made up or imagined.

All the earthly human concerns and structures that seem so real are not quite so real at all.

To them,

The energy of the trees and the notes of a robin's morning song were more real and reverberated with stronger messages than all the made-up concerns of modern society.

Cora,

With her playful sing-song voice,

Could always be caught saying,

If you don't like the way things are,

Just make something else up.

Was it really that simple?

On a warm afternoon,

You arrive at the enchanted forest,

Carrying an item the witches requested.

It felt a little silly to indulge them,

But at the same time,

You trusted them deeply.

On the rare occasions that they asked for something,

It was done so with good reason,

And you didn't see the point in questioning.

There are enough things to think about on your own,

And when it came to this,

It was best to trust them.

In a handwritten letter on thick parchment paper,

With her ostentatious penmanship full of loops and scrolls,

Carla wrote to ask you to arrive with an empty piece of luggage.

And this is how you find yourself with a rolling suitcase bouncing behind you over the damp mossy carpet of the forest floor.

As you walk through the woodlands,

The empty suitcase bounces like a tennis ball over gnarly tree roots that rise out of the thawed earth.

You approach a part of the forest where cherry blossoms appear on trees like tufts of cotton candy pink promises that the harshest of winter is done.

Pink and ivory petals scatter on the dark green and brown forest floor like messengers of beauty on its way.

In the sunlight,

The air is warm on your face,

But the occasional breeze in the shadows of the trees is crisp and cool.

You arrive at the white birch trees where baby robins chirp from abundant nests in newly created colonies that bring hope and vivacity to the forest.

At the base of a white birch tree,

You discover the pastel blue shell of a robin egg nestled atop a soft sheet of papery white bark.

You pick up the bark and balance it with the eggshell in the palm of your hand.

It is delicate to touch,

Yet invokes deep feelings inside of you.

You place the shell and papery bark into a cloth satchel that drapes diagonally across your ribs and continue on.

The red fox appears,

The spirit animal who has looked after you and guided you on every visit,

But this time he's not alone.

His mate and their two young kits follow closely behind.

Young pups are often distracted as they tumble and play on a small knoll of lush moss and chanterelle mushrooms.

You pause and watch the fox family enjoy the softness of spring,

Now free from the tree hollow where they hid on the harshest winter nights.

The fox is proud and while quite occupied,

Remembers you and makes you feel valued.

You look into his beady eyes with appreciation and the conversation going on in your mind thanks him.

And for the first time in the enchanted forest,

You do not just intuitively sense his feelings,

You hear him answer back in your mind.

I think of you often and I'm always looking out for you.

You could tease yourself a million different ways to tomorrow,

But it feels liberating to simply accept the experiences that unfold on your journey to the witch's cottage.

Suspension of disbelief opens doors to your heart that harm no one and make you feel deeply appreciated and noticed.

Attention is the ultimate form of generosity in a world where time is the most limited and unpredictable resource.

Who knows how many springs may come.

You respect the fragility of time with your appreciation for the present.

In your normal life,

The daily routine has the power to make every day feel exhaustingly the same.

But when you tune in,

You realize that things are constantly changing around you.

The present moment comes but once and is never replicated,

No matter how anyone may try to do so.

You arrive at the beloved cottage as the Sun dips beyond the horizon,

Creating a dreamy sky of soft pastels that swirl like melted puddles of orange and raspberry sherbet.

A squiggly line of smoke creates a trail across the sky like the strokes of a fountain pen in Carla's hand.

The smoke lends a sweet yet peppery aroma to the smells of wet earth,

Damp grass,

And metallic clean air.

The final thaw came just a couple of weeks prior and when you inhale,

The damp air tastes like clean droplets of melted snow.

Cora sees you first,

Running towards you with a basket of vibrant wildflowers that offer pops of periwinkle,

Lavender,

Lemon yellow,

Orange,

And hot pink.

Her curls bounce on the satin cape draped over her slender shoulders.

She looks more vibrant and fresh than you have ever seen her and the energy is infectious when she greets you with a kiss on the cheek and places a flower in your favorite hue behind your ear.

You follow her towards the cottage and struggle to drag your luggage along.

Out of nowhere it has become quite heavy.

Cora smiles mysteriously as if she knows something you do not.

She wraps her long slender fingers around the handle next to yours and helps you hoist the suitcase through the fence and up the pathway to the cottage.

You enter the cottage and it feels like a homecoming as it always does.

A safe haven that is so familiar you feel so long as you have been alive that you have been returning to this refuge in the woodlands.

Twilight sets in and candles illuminate the knotty wood walls of the home.

Carla blows out a long match after lighting the last candle in a centuries old candelabra.

When she sees you,

Her eyes soften and shine like crystallized honey when it warms and becomes satiny and liquid once more.

Sometimes you feel so much comfort and joy looking into her eyes that it's followed by a wave of sadness that you don't quite understand.

But Carla always tells you it's because you feel safe enough to feel everything.

She always knows how to soothe it.

Carla walks across the room and her long flowing dress sweeps over the old planks of the floor.

She hugs you firmly like a mother and the velvet collar of her regal dress brushes against your neck and cheek.

Welcome,

My dear.

You have been missed.

The cottage is different this time of year.

The cracked open windows cause a stir in the air.

The breeze is cool but the air is still warm as there is a cauldron in the center of the room where Ava stirs a healing remedy for sleep.

With chamomile and lavender floating atop the water,

She pours a jar of honey sourced from her bee sanctuary.

It makes the air sweet and intoxicating.

Cora stands on a hand-carved chair with depictions of forest animals on the legs and back.

She hangs the spring flowers in bunches from a wooden beam over the main room.

Carla returns to the kitchen to prepare you a bowl of thick stew made of fresh vegetables and herbs foraged in the woods.

Come summer,

The witch's garden will overflow with produce,

Herbs,

And flowers.

But for now,

They graze and the forest meets their needs.

Carla guides you towards the fireplace and you sit in a plush velvet chair.

Five kittens sleep in a basket curled atop one another in the amber glow of the fire.

The savory smell of your stew awakens them from slumber and they fumble out of the wicker basket curiously before they scatter across the floor with their hair standing up on alert.

You eat your stew as they bravely climb onto your feet and bat at your shoelaces.

The most brazen kitten is a long-haired tortoiseshell who is the only one to climb onto your lap and sniff at the stew.

But this does not satisfy her curiosity and she climbs up to your shoulder and sniffs your face.

Intrigued by the smell of a person from another world and time,

You extend a hand for her to investigate and she nuzzles her head into your palm,

Indicating that you are trustworthy.

The kittens are the progeny of imagination.

Cora's beloved cat who prefers to roam the barn at twilight over being confined indoors.

The stew fills you and tastes familiar and woodsy and unusual at the same time.

You feel your body relax in a sigh as you enjoy the last few spoonfuls.

The witches go about their evening busywork and Carla explains that there is a fairy dance in the woods once the moon rises.

You pick up the purring puffball from your chest and kiss her on the head before placing her with her littermates that tumble and bat at one another beneath a heavy wood coffee table.

You take your dish to the kitchen and clean it and look out the window onto the misty rolling hills behind the cottage.

The sky is full of glittering stars and the damp meadows appear to be covered in flowing midnight blue gossamer.

The witches stand by the door and give you a warm cape to wear on the journey to the fairies reveal.

Ava explains that every spring the fairies come out of hibernation to light up the night.

Their soiree is an invitation for the fireflies to return and for all creatures of the forest to celebrate warmer days.

You follow the witches,

Hypnotized by their whooshing skirts that sashay above the dewy earth.

You feel tired yet curious and soon you are led to the white birch trees where you discovered the robin's eggshell and papery white bark on the ground.

At first the woodlands are so quiet that you hear the soft sighs and breaths of the witches.

Then suddenly a flash of electric blue light dashes across the woods as the first fairy appears.

Others follow in hues of pink,

Orange,

Neon yellow,

And light purple.

They sing a song with many harmonies.

Their voices are soft and their melody catchy.

As they skirt around the white birch trees like hummingbirds,

The trees glow in their vibrant light as if basking in rainbow spotlights.

They sprinkle fairy dust on the dark green earth and it begins to glow.

The sisters look back to see if you can enjoy and take in the fairy dance.

They are pleased to see you are engaged and do not miss a moment of the performance.

In the light of the fairy dust,

You recognize all the creatures that have come out to partake in the celebration of renewal.

Ladybugs crawl up the white birch trees for a better view.

A doe leads her clumsy fawn towards the spectacle.

A den of bunnies reveals themselves as their mother clears the opening so they may watch as well.

You look up towards the midnight blue sky to see raccoons and squirrels perched on tree branches and cardinals and sparrows tucked in their nests.

An owl hoots and the fairies respond with a new song.

In the shadows of the trees,

You see your fox friend and family have arrived as well.

You feel full of joy and life,

Part of something grander than you realize.

The spectacle ends when the half-moon rises to the center of the sky and the creatures of the forest return to their shelter to rest.

Karla threads her arm around yours and your elbows locked together.

She says,

Not everyone who comes to the forest sees what you just saw.

Only those who believe are open enough to experience.

In this intimate exchange,

You ask her why your suitcase became so heavy even though it is empty.

She tells you that you will find out in the morning and to savor this night not worrying about it now.

When you return to the warm dry air of the cottage,

Ava grabs a wooden ladle and pours the sleepy elixir she made into a teacup.

She hands you the first one and then fills three more for herself and her sisters.

She raises her steaming cup and toasts to a day well spent into a night of rest.

The floral tea is perfectly sweet and as it flows down your throat,

You instantly feel your muscles and body relax.

In deep peace,

You become tired and your eyes begin to blear.

The witches say goodnight and return to their rooms.

The fluffy tortoiseshell kitten leaves her litter to find you.

You place her back in the basket,

But she pops out again and stays close to the backs of your heels.

She follows you up the narrow winding staircase that leads to the guest alcove.

When you reach the cozy nook,

You turn around and look at her.

Her big pleading kitten eyes are like silver and green saucers illuminated by moonbeams that shine through the skylight windows.

You reach down and pick her up and hold her warm fluffy body against your chest.

The vibrations of her purrs fit between the beats of your heart and the steady rhythm soothes you both.

You place her on the bed and change into pajamas that smell of lavender.

You peel back the heavy quilt and collapse into the mattress.

The kitten walks over to you and curls up and falls asleep in the curve of your neck and right shoulder.

Soon you are both in a deep sleep,

Appearing in one another's spring- inspired dreams until the first rays of sunlight pour into the room and a new day begins.

You awaken to sounds of clanking metal pans and water running as the witches prepare breakfast.

The kitten rises and stretches in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

She softly meows and you scratch under her chin.

You get out of bed and dress for the day.

Feeling content and renewed,

You head to the kitchen with your new furry friend following behind to rejoin her siblings.

You enjoy a bountiful breakfast with the three sisters as golden sunshine pours through the windows and tiny particles like fairy dust.

Cora is particularly cheerful in the morning.

She tells you,

Every morning comes with a promise of things you've never experienced before.

Carla is quiet,

But her smile and eyes reveal that something important will transpire today.

She claps her hands together and says,

It's time for our spring renewal.

She instructs you to gather your empty suitcase from the foyer.

You do as told and follow the three witches outside.

You feel stronger and more rested than you have in a long time and yet you struggle to carry the suitcase down the stairs.

The grass and rolling meadows of wildflowers sparkle with dew in the beaming Sun.

Carla leads the group,

But you continue to struggle to carry the empty suitcase.

Carla pauses as if she knew this would happen and she smiles at you with compassion.

You explain to her that you cannot understand why the suitcase is only getting heavier the farther you walk.

She places her hand on your upper arm and caresses it as empathy pours out of her.

My dear,

You have been carrying this weight all along,

But because you ignored it and stuffed it inside you,

It was buried so deep in your body that you failed to notice.

You feel safe to be vulnerable and slow down when you visit and that's why you are finally able to recognize what has weighed you down.

Ava chimes in,

We will help you release it,

Only if you're ready,

Of course.

Cora smiles as she blows a spiral lock of red hair out of her eyes.

You're strong enough to carry that on your own,

But we can help you.

It's a lot for one person to carry.

Surrounded by the loving circle of the three sisters,

You surrender to the emotions that come to the surface.

Relief.

Peace.

Sadness.

Joy.

Gratitude.

Acceptance.

They flow purely and you are celebrated for experiencing and releasing each one.

Grief.

Longing.

Regret.

The three witches each pick up a corner of the suitcase and as you walk together,

You recognize the things that have been holding you back.

The opinions of others.

The self-judgment.

Memories of being let down or told your needs didn't matter.

The weight of the world and things beyond your control.

You feel and process each one like memory capsules popping so they can become free.

You realize that all along you have had the power to let them resonate and be given attention so that you could become free.

But the truth is you weren't ready just yet.

But now you are.

With each concern and stressor that you process,

The suitcase becomes lighter and lighter.

The witches continue to help carry your burdens and make you feel less alone than you have ever felt before.

You arrive at a clearing beneath a canopy of lush trees and come to a silvery babbling brook.

You set the suitcase down on the grass.

You guide the zipper around the sleek contours of the hard case and open it.

Sunlight streams through the branches and a colony of butterflies takes flight towards the trees.

Your heart flutters to the temple of their wings with hope and the promise of good things to come.

This visit offers a metamorphosis that has only been possible over time.

Carla instructs you to leave the suitcase open so it may capture the renewal of spring.

The witches laugh and twirl and clap their hands,

Cheering you for releasing what has been so heavy.

They praise you for your self-awareness and lead you towards the water's edge.

Every spring they dip into the silvery blue water that still retains a kiss of winter's chill to renew themselves and experience the season with fresh eyes and curiosity and with an open heart and forgiving mind.

In this beloved and sacred forest,

You process your life with reflection rather than rumination and regret.

All along you could have focused on an openness to new experiences and renewal.

You just weren't there yet because all those endings you were avoiding were leading you to new beginnings the moment you opened yourself to them.

And on this perfect spring day,

You feel ready.

Fully clothed,

You follow the witches into the stream and laugh.

The water soothes your nerve cells.

The coolness shocks your system so that there's no room to think.

You are present.

Your body tingles and then becomes numb as you float over the smooth rocks of the streambed.

The water is persistent and soothing and just like it softened the rocks,

You feel a softening in your heart.

You float on your back and look at the clear cerulean sky and realize that every morning,

Every moment gives you a chance to start anew.

You do not need to wait.

The opportunity comes with each breath and with each breath you get to decide who you want to be.

The witches reach out their cool wet hands and you form a circle with intertwined fingers.

You hop and splash about in a stream in a playful pact to always remember the lessons of spring.

When it is time to return to the cottage,

The red fox appears and takes a sip from the water.

He lifts his head and looks your way and you hear him in your mind as he says,

You have grown so much and you think to yourself,

Yes I have.

Back at the cottage,

You change into dry garments and catch up with the witches around the fire.

You show them the white birchbark and robin's egg that you discovered during your arrival.

Owee's imaginative Korra takes them from you and disappears.

Moments later,

She returns with a clear glass bottle that contains the blue eggshell and white bark arranged on a tiny bed of moss and dried flowers.

You thank her for the memento,

A loving gift and reminder of spring's renewal.

You retreat to the alcove for an afternoon nap when your eyes cannot stay open a moment longer.

Your new kitten friend comes along.

A bouquet of daffodils and tulips sits in a crystal vase that Ava placed as a surprise on the bed stand.

You run your fingers across the silky petals and smile.

There is so much beauty to behold when one looks for it.

Enough to fill every waking hour of each day.

And it is the contrast of darkness that makes the beauty shine brighter.

But for now,

Sleep calls to you and like old friends in a now familiar routine,

The kitten cuddles against your neck as you sink deeper and deeper into the bed.

You fade between worlds and every now and then you hear a whisper or rustling sound from the witches downstairs.

Their presence is a reminder that you are protected,

Loved,

And cared for.

This idea continues to blossom in the season of spring.

Its energy permeates the air as you allow it to bring you to sleep or enhance your transition to another adventure with the Three Witches.

Autumn Magic at the Witch's Cottage Laurie Cabot,

The first witch of Salem,

Once said,

The witch knows nothing in this world is supernatural.

It is all natural.

So many things happen in a singular moment,

But often the human mind only perceives a few,

If anything at all.

When we're lost in our thoughts,

It's easy to be swept away from the evocative experiences in the delicious present moment.

The witches believe there is only one place anyone should consider getting lost.

In the splendor of the here and now.

Now is the only time you can fully feel the aliveness in your body and be aware of the constant flow of energy.

Karla,

The witch,

Always remarks that just because you cannot see something does not mean it isn't there.

She always invites you to feel and to feel deeply.

Your mind drifts to what it was like as a child when you longed to get back to a place or a dream without exactly knowing how.

And as a child,

Your imagination would conjure all the portals in the night that could transport you to this dreamy realm.

Perhaps the ceiling in the closet or a secret door beneath your bed.

Maybe the portal appeared in the wall or beneath a wooden floor beam that creaked more than all the other floorboards.

With each visit to the witch's cottage,

You often wonder how and where the portal will appear.

The feminine souls have become like family.

Sometimes you arrive at their cottage by way of a dream.

On your first visit,

The meditation brought you on a journey across the night sky and an encounter with an enchantress dangling her legs from a crescent moon.

Her silver hair rippled like silky ocean waves led by the lunar pole.

Her finger curled in a hither motion and you landed in the enchanted forest where the witches reside.

But this night feels different.

You can feel the three sisters beckoning you to visit.

As they know you have been in need of a new experience,

The familiar patterns and stresses of your life have become monotonous and the witches long to reignite the spark within you so you may remember the best and the most playful parts of yourself.

A sensation comes over you,

Slipping and sinking.

You feel as if you are falling down,

Down,

Down.

Like Alice once did through a rabbit hole to Wonderland.

You glide through different dimensions and swirling vibrant colors of the rainbow.

Muted sounds of the enchanted forest become louder as you float across a crisp baby blue sky.

Sunlight pours over clusters of changing leaves below like liquid gold.

As gravity pulls you to the forest floor,

Your heavy cape and layers of clothing and style centuries ago slow you down as you come down and your boots land on the damp earth.

The air smells of cedar,

A freshwater stream,

And wood smoke.

As if anticipating your arrival,

The red fox stands atop the slick rocks surrounding a stream.

He is your spirit animal and guide and always looks after you kindly.

His copper coat blends with the earth-toned leaves that blanket the ground.

Not far from the witch's cottage,

You can hear their jubilant voices echoing through the woods.

The fox's ears perk up curiously and he is as comforted by their sing-song chatter as you are.

For that matter,

Every being in the enchanted forest is comforted by the witch's presence.

For so long as the witches have inhabited the woodlands,

They have graced the land with reverence and maintained a deep connection with the environment.

The animals and flora understand the gentle easing between seasons and harmony amongst their fellow forest dwellers is purely the doing of the three witches.

And as their guest,

You are welcome.

A friend of the witches is a friend of the forest.

Evergreen branches and decaying leaves rustle in the cool late-day breeze as if to whisper,

Welcome back.

It feels like a homecoming as you follow the fox through the soft mist that rises like a lavender-gray veil.

Dew drops form on the amber,

Red,

Orange,

Yellow,

And plum-colored leaves and resemble crystal balls.

The fox stays close to your side,

And occasionally his bushy tail brushes against your warm layers of outerwear.

And while the touch is soft,

It creates an electric wave of tingling energy that travels up your legs,

Spine,

And scalp in a pleasing way.

You walk through the familiar forest,

As if wafting through a pleasant recurring dream.

Moments like this make you feel like a part of you is always here,

Connected to the woodlands,

Untethered from modern demands,

And safe in the energetic fortress that these loving witches have fostered with their great intentions and feminine powers.

The witch's strength comes from veracity,

Connection,

And authenticity.

They balance their individual and collective powers with a sense of humility and reverence for Mother Nature and the expansive universe.

They cultivate equanimity with enviable grace.

Each time you visit,

You embrace your powers and celebrate yourself while remaining awestruck and appreciative of the beauty around you.

You feel big and small at the same time.

Beyond the fairy dwellings and the white papery bark of birch trees that reflect the honeyed light,

You arrive at the witch's cottage.

Of course,

They sense your arrival long before you show,

But their faces reveal the same enthusiasm as if it were a surprise.

Whenever you visit this hallowed land,

Your feet hover above the forest floor before crunching down on fallen leaves.

You feel lighter when you come to this place,

As if levitating and flying are somehow possible.

A pumpkin patch before the cottage overflows with plump orange orbs that grow between twisted,

Thick green vines close to the earth.

These uncarved pumpkins magically glow with inscribed messages that the witches hold dear.

The following mantras cast their orange-gold glow on the shadows of the forest path.

Believe and you will see.

Trust your soul.

Impossibility is impossible.

The answers you seek are meant to be found.

The magic will find you.

But if it doesn't or takes too long,

Make your own.

The messages on the pumpkins and the rushing sounds of the babbling brook that wraps around the witch's cottage offer the ideal setting for deep repose.

The babbling water turns a deep shade of violet this time of year when the sun slips beyond the horizon and shadows span the forest floor.

Surrounded by ivy-like purple leaves with a streambed of metallic plum-hued rocks,

The rich hue awakens your imagination.

Outside the juniper wood,

An ancient stone cottage,

The potion in a cauldron bubbles to its cast-iron brim.

A cloud of steam travels through the crisp air,

Leaving a penetrating perfume of spicy cloves,

Cardamom,

Violet,

Belladonna,

Chamomile,

And exotic fruity notes in its wake.

You open the door to the knotty wood fence that twists around the cottage grounds like black licorice.

Cora is the first to greet you,

Dressed in her standard emerald green and black brocade dress with a velvet cape that flows over her dainty shoulders like the midnight sky.

When her slender arms hug you close,

This kind witch known to heal all feelings,

Emotional and physical,

Your breath catches in your throat.

She softly asks,

And how have you been,

Dear?

Her tender embrace makes you realize how much you have longed for a maternal hug like this,

But you didn't even know it.

And even if at times lately you feel guarded and protect your space,

In Cora's presence you realize how much your nervous system has needed this soothing,

Nurturing connection.

A wave of feeling rises up from your feet and causes your eyes to well as you realize how much Cora truly cares and connects when she asks you this.

Cora and her sisters know the world you come from can be quite unkind and has been chaotic and challenging beyond what you foresaw years ago.

But Cora knows as well as you that a night at the cottage will be enough to restore you,

So you may return feeling vibrant and confident once more.

She brushes her slender,

Warm fingers across your forehead and down your cheek and whispers,

As always,

You have arrived with divine timing.

You'll never know why,

But you always believe her,

When around the witches you have an intuitive trust that is unflappable.

Every positive experience in the enchanted forest reminds you of your innate presence and divinity.

Learning to embrace your intuition empowers you in your routine life to make choices in the best interest for your body and your soul's journey.

The fox remains outside the gate and Cora smiles at him and says,

Come join us after twilight.

His coal eyes sparkle and he seems to nod in a fox-like way.

Before dashing off into the woods,

Cora ushers you inside the cottage where Carla and Ava have piled hordes of bizarre items on the rustic wooden dining table that could host a dozen dinner guests.

The kittens have grown since your last visit in the spring and are now curious cats that paw at twine that flows off the table like spaghetti strands.

Mosaic-patterned ceramic bowls contain feathers,

Tufts of cotton,

And patches of silk and velvet.

There are four miniature cottages made from twigs,

Colorfully painted wood scraps,

And bark foraged from the woods.

Carla and Ava rush over to hug you and greet you.

They insist you join them and design your own tiny cottage.

Ava,

The middle sister,

Encourages you to decorate the birdhouse-sized dwelling for the night's surprise adventure.

You eagerly join the witches and design a nest inside the cottage that serves as the bed frame for a mattress stuffed with collected feathers.

You hang tiny bunches of dried lavender and sage on the walls of the small cottage.

You place precious stones inside to act as tables and seats.

The witches sing as they design their own dollhouse-sized cottages and find perfect harmony in songs you do not know yet are hauntingly familiar.

A gray,

Long-haired cat curls at your feet and purrs softly as you work.

You add pops of color that appeal to your preferences.

And once finished,

You pick up the tiny house in your hands and spin it in the last of sunlight that streams through the multi-paned windows of the cottage.

You feel the pride you once felt as a child when you learned to create something on your own and explored your artistic side.

Each of the four tiny cottages is different.

Some are painted in vibrant colors and others have the rich luster of molasses.

Carla leaves the table and removes a frying pan of biscuits from the oven and wraps them in cotton tea towels in a wicker basket.

Cora says everyone must hurry as the sun is about to set and the spell must be cast at twilight.

The four of you collect your tiny cottages and head outside to where the violet stream joins a pond that is surrounded by trees dressed in autumn's most opulent hues.

The fiery red sun casts the dewy grass and fallen rust-colored pine needles.

And metallic orange light.

The witches placed an overturned wooden crate at the edge of the pond.

A small ladder that is the length of your arm leans against the crate.

Plush mint green moss and scarlet rose petals cover the top of the crate.

Cora instructs everyone to arrange their tiny home atop the moss.

You place your cottage in the center and the three witches arrange theirs around yours.

Ava places four thimbles filled with tiny straw and wood chips in front of each cottage.

Along with a regular-sized match,

You're not quite certain what will unfold,

But part of you imagines how nice it would be to spend the night in the dollhouse dwellings.

Carla looks at you,

A glimmer in her eye as she reads your thoughts.

My dear,

When problems feel too big,

Sometimes we must remember how small we are in this vast universe.

When we become small,

Our problems do as well.

And tonight,

We will celebrate the feeling of awe.

Ava and Cora come and wrap their arms around you,

And you follow Carla,

The sage witch,

To the cauldron.

The red fox stands in the glow of the firelight,

A guardian and ally.

Carla removes a wooden ladle from the steaming pot.

The potions float atop the translucent,

Silvery potion that cools quickly in the autumn air.

The sun disappears as Carla explains.

This potion will create a dreamscape until the sun rises,

And you will awaken at home in your bed when it is all said and done.

Are you ready for a tiny adventure,

My dears?

Excitement brings goosebumps to your skin,

Followed by that familiar,

Soothing wave of trust.

You sip the floral and minty potion,

And it flows down your throat,

Silky and warm.

Carla and her sisters sip from the ladles next.

As Carla says,

Down we go,

May we always remember this magnanimous world and all its splendor.

Inch by inch,

Pound by pound.

You shrink over the course of a minute or two.

It is just the right pace for your perspective to change.

The world gradually becomes bigger and bigger.

As if you are aging in reverse,

You go back to the curious mind of a toddler when the world was new and adventure was around every corner.

You become smaller than a dragonfly.

The pine needles around you now seem like the size of surfboards in comparison to what they once were.

You wiggle your tiny fingers and toes,

And begin to laugh spontaneously with the witches.

You don't know why,

But the pleasure of being small and small is what makes you happy.

The world this large makes you giggle.

Your cheek muscles softly burn as your chest rises with each laugh and content sigh.

Cora is the token leader on this night of exploration.

And she brings you and the other two through the pumpkin patch.

You see a reflection in the opal dewdrops that form on the feathery green leaves and cleanse your face with the cool water.

The witches hike up the vines that lead to the pumpkins,

Choosing the messages that most appeal to them.

You see a new message appear on a squat and fat pumpkin that reads,

The more you play,

The more you understand.

With a playful heart,

You climb atop the pumpkin and wrap your arms around its thick stem to balance.

Carla and Ava wait for Cora to count down from three.

And all at once,

You slide down the waxy exterior of the pumpkins to land on a bed of soft,

Pillowy leaves.

How did you ever forget the importance of play?

Even the animals of the forest know how important it is to play,

As it keeps them self-aware and adaptable to an ever-changing world.

The fox waits at the edge of the patch patiently,

As you and the witches dash under vines and slide across the tops of crinkling fallen leaves.

You dip beneath the wooden fence.

The posts appear as grand as twisted trees.

The fox lowers his tail,

So you may climb up the fluffy copper and ivory fur to ride on his back.

You meet the witches on top,

And the fox waits for Cora's command to charge through the night.

You settle between his shoulder blades and thread his fur through your fingers to hold on.

Cora declares,

Ready,

And the fox takes off along the stream.

His paws patter on the earth,

And vibrations travel through his taut muscles.

You rise and land on his plush coat that moves on the breeze like fields of wheat,

And soften every landing.

The wind brushes against your skin with a slight nip.

But the warmth of the fox's fur and body comforts you.

The fox travels beneath the light of the moon that rises above the pond,

The shade of a cantaloupe.

Peachy moonlight and the autumn leaves of surrounding trees reflect on the water.

The fox stops at the edge of the pond,

And you and the witches slide down his ribs and land on the ground.

Piles of colorful leaves line the edge of the pond.

You select a leaf in your favorite hue and shape,

As the witches select a red,

Orange,

And gold leaf that they bring to the pond's edge.

You follow behind and place the leaf in the water and balance on it,

To ride it like a raft across the pond.

The fairies appear in the sky,

Twinkling as brightly as the thousands of stars that fill the velvety purple-black canvas of night.

You inhale deeply,

Taking in the sweet smells of an autumn night,

And the aroma of the leaf that sails on the crisp breeze across the pond.

The small pond feels as vast as the ocean.

You clasp your tiny hands behind your head as you float.

And surrender to the majesty of this perfect autumn night.

You bathe in the moonlight,

Listening to the fairies as they sing and recharge themselves before the full moon.

They revel in this time for transformation that comes every month.

Cora stands atop her maple leaf and uses a blue spruce needle to paddleboard across the pond.

Carla and Ava lounge across their leaves,

With their hearts pointed toward the sanguine moon.

You begin to feel quite tired as the cool,

Clean air fills your lungs.

Cora asks if everyone would like to return to their cottages,

And everyone agrees.

The fairies come to assist.

Their delicate fingers grasp the stems of the floating leaves.

Their sparkling wings flutter,

Scattering glittery dust onto the water as they bring you safely to the shore.

You climb atop shimmering violet and ebony stones that lead to the upturned crate and tiny cottages.

For years to come,

You will most remember the sensation of being part of something great,

Bigger and beyond you,

Even when you were at your smallest.

The way the witch's capes and garments ride on the wind like black,

Emerald,

Purple,

And red velvet waves.

The otherworldly sheen of the moonlight on dewdrops and on your skin.

The confidence you feel as you climb the once tiny and now seemingly tall ladder to the cottages.

You hoist yourself one rung at a time,

Feeling the strength in your arms and your core muscles as you fight off the tiredness to arrive at the top.

Carla strikes a match the size of a torch against a thimble and goes from one thimble to the next to start four separate fires outside the miniature homes.

Basking in the warm firelight,

You look out on the dreamy landscape.

You take in the autumn leaves,

Saturated in pearly-orange moonlight.

You stare at the reflective pond,

Rippling in the fall breeze like a satin sheet.

Carla reminds everyone of the biscuits,

And Ava and Cora climb into the basket to pull back the tea towel.

Steam rises from the baked bread that has remained warm.

They split open two biscuits that are the size of queen-sized beds,

And you all lounge on the fluffy bread,

Comforted by the buttery smell.

You grab a handful of the biscuit's interior and eat it as it melts on your shrunken tongue and warms you from the inside out.

You feel so full,

Satiated,

And relaxed.

You wish to stay here forever,

In this magical world of play and fun.

Being the size makes everything seem so plentiful and abundant.

All your needs are met in the most creative ways.

Tiredness takes hold and your eyelids become heavy.

The witches wind down as well,

And one by one,

You return to your unique cottages.

You step through the open door and remove your cape and hang it on a small tack.

You inhale the fragrant dried lavender and sage.

As you climb over the twigs and onto the feather mattress.

The evening has been rife with silky and downy textures and moments of softness that make slumber come easily.

You close your eyes and drift between worlds as Elune cries out her midnight song.

The cotton puff pillows contour around your head and neck as you let go of this imaginary world.

Feeling the creative powers within that may transport you through time to another visit with the witches.

Or help you craft soothing dreams as the night unfolds.

The choice is yours.

Snowy Wonderland at the Witch's Cottage The three witches,

Carla,

Ava,

And Cora,

Had been through so much in their lifetime.

And while not completely sure of their ages or all that much about their history,

Your experiences with them always seemed timeless.

Through their strength and compassion,

It's quite obvious they are resilient souls.

And have evolved through many eras of change.

Over this great span of time,

They learned to become self-reliant.

And understand it was best to only offer their wisdom and mystical talents to visitors who came with open hearts and minds.

Willing to explore the bigger picture,

The guests most welcome at their cottage front door chose life to be a journey of deeper discovery.

There was a time when visiting their hallowed forest and cozy cottage required an invitation or planning.

You weren't always quite sure how to get there.

And would spend nights wishing you could return with ease.

But as the witches began to learn more about you,

The barriers to their realm seemed to vanish.

And whenever you liked,

Through a reverie or a wish,

A portal would appear in the sanctuary of your room.

The sparkling,

Prismatic door would pop up in a wall,

And the closer you got to it,

The lighter you felt.

As if all worldly concerns were left behind when you floated through the portal,

Traveling somewhere in time.

The magical women had been on your mind lately,

And it felt long overdue for you to escape the chaotic noise and frenetic pace of modern-day living,

To get back in touch with nature.

With every visit to the forest,

You experience a sense of wonder.

Your senses awakened,

And your mind still.

Karla,

The sagest witch of the three,

Would counsel you when you came to her with your concerns,

Often wondering what their purpose meant.

Her eyes would maternally pour into yours,

Glittering and kind,

Yet firm and confident all at once.

My dear,

What does anything really mean?

It means everything and nothing,

All at once.

You choose the lens through which you see the world and your life.

But in the end,

The smallest and grandest of moments can mean both everything and nothing.

Her words could wrap around you like a spiraling hug of illuminated letters that made you feel warm and safe.

So many times you would glide through the portal and fly across a starry sky,

To arrive at the forest and traipse beneath a canopy of trees to find your way back.

But to your surprise,

The journey this time is fast,

And you are suddenly inside the rustic cottage.

Your feet land on the wide,

Weathered wooden planks of the main room in the witch's cottage.

The witches are not home,

Yet you can hear the sing-song voice of Korra in your mind as she delivers a telepathic message.

Make yourself comfortable,

We will join you soon.

A smile forms on your face.

The winter wind howls outside the frosted multi-paint windows,

Delivering feathery snowflakes to the forest floor.

A fire crackles and pops in the stone fireplace,

Where a cauldron of stew simmers.

Candelabras placed in the bow windowsills illuminate the room with flickering amber light.

The healing essential oils cultivated by the witches throughout the year softly aromatize the air.

These familiar scents marry the smells of burning wood,

Old books,

Juniper logs,

And the savory stew containing rosemary and thyme.

You hear a quiet meow,

And then the fast patter of paws on the hardwood floors.

The sweet tortoiseshell kitten that Korra's cat imagination gave life to in spring excitedly comes to greet you.

You are given the privilege of naming her.

She is full-grown,

And her coat is silky and thick.

Her sleepy eyes blink,

And she places her front paws on your thigh to get in a good stretch.

Her loud purrs and kittenish meow indicate how much she has missed you.

You squat down to pet her,

And she wraps her arms around your shoulder with a hug.

She rubs her velvety jaw against your cheek,

And her white whiskers tickle your nose.

She sniffs you curiously,

Comforted by the fact it is really you.

Her purrs louden,

And her body vibrates against yours.

You feel so honored to be loved in this way by an animal you met quite some time ago.

For animals do not fake affection,

And her genuine love causes your entire body to radiate with warm electric pulses.

Your heart feels open,

And your breath becomes relaxed.

Your heart rate slows,

And you feel a lightness in your chest that gives way for you to realize how much tension you have been holding.

Sometimes we carry heavy sensations for so long that we forget what it was like to be relieved of the burden.

Carla reminds you of this often,

And in this simple moment of lightness,

You realize it has been too much for anyone to carry.

And you deserve to feel free.

You hear the sound of boots stomping up the snowy steps to the cottage,

Followed by the happy,

Mellifluous voices of the witches.

Their familiar and comforting sounds travel deep into the parts of you that long to be seen,

Nurtured,

And mothered.

Cora,

The witch responsible for healing all things,

Opens the door abruptly to be followed by Carla and Ava.

A new velvet emerald green cape with a pillowy collar made of silk wraps around her frame.

Carla and Ava wear luxurious capes of a similar design.

Carla,

The oldest of the three,

Looks radiant in her ruby satin and amethyst velvet cape,

While Ava is soothing to the eyes in her sapphire cloak.

Their cheeks are rosy from the cold of the night,

And they shake snowflakes off their attire and hair.

The snow sparkles like specks of silver glitter,

Illuminated by the firelight,

And dancing in the warm air of the cottage before vanishing.

Imagination comes out of hiding to rub against Cora's legs.

The cat spends much of the year outside in the bar,

But on snowy nights like this,

She seeks refuge in the cottage.

Carla comes over to hug you and welcome you back.

Every time you find yourself in her embrace,

You feel as if everything will be okay.

She is a beacon of safety,

And you imagine nothing could go wrong in her presence.

And if,

By the slightest chance,

Something was awry,

Carla would handle it with such grace that most souls would have no idea that anything was amiss.

Ava walks over to an old trunk in the corner of the room and undoes the brass latch.

She opens the ornate trunk that would be fitting to find on a pirate ship,

And the smell of cedar fills the room.

She removes a brand new velvet cape in your favorite color scheme.

It is one of the richest,

Most luxurious garments you have ever touched.

Ava declares,

".

.

.

This is for you.

Try it on.

It will keep you warm on our outing tonight.

" Cora and Carla gather four pairs of ice skates,

Strung by their laces,

Around wooden pegs in the juniper walls.

".

.

.

Tonight is about having fun.

The longer we live,

The more important it is to remember to play.

" Carla explains.

It surprises you a bit that she would emphasize fun the most,

Since she always tends to be the most dutiful and mature.

She reads your thoughts and explains,

".

.

.

My dear,

You don't get to where I am without taking the time to experience the pleasures of this world.

They often are the very things that save us.

" The witches are giddy and giggly in a way you haven't seen before.

They are cast under the same spell as a school-aged child who awakens to discover it's a snow day.

You wrap your new cape around your shoulders and catch a reflection in the window panes,

Illuminated by candlelight.

You feel confident and have a sense of belonging,

So far from home and out of time.

With each visit to this mystical cottage,

You are more in awe of how much life feels the same through time.

There is more sameness than difference.

Carla drapes a pair of skates around your neck and ties them together in a perfect bow.

Cora is the first to lead the group outside,

Followed by Ava and Carla.

The sweet tortoiseshell cat stays close to your heels and her green and gold speckled saucer eyes stare up at you longingly,

A promise to return soon,

And she sits,

Her long striped tail dusting the wooden floor.

You follow the witches down the steps into the snowy clearing that surrounds the cottage.

A thin glaze of ice shines in the light of a waxing gibbous moon.

The snowy meadow takes on an icy blue tint from the lush marine blue sky.

Snow covers the thatched roof of the witch's cottage like frosting on shredded wheat.

The red fox appears,

Another long-time friend and guide,

To accompany the four of you to a secluded skating pond surrounded by snow-coated pine trees.

In all the times you have explored these woods,

This is the first time you've seen this pond.

Ava explains that it's a secret pond,

Not always there,

But when it appears,

The witches make the most of it.

The icy pond glitters as if the stars have fallen from the sky,

Frozen in time beneath the icy surface.

A few snowflakes land on your lips and melt,

And you taste the cool metallic water droplets that remain.

The fox leads you to a row of tree stumps where you sit with the three witches and put on your skates.

In the distance,

You hear a familiar voice echoing through the snowy woods that you cannot quite place.

The voice is young and softly reverberates across the pond.

Carla looks up from her freshly tied laces and smiles.

You'll understand soon enough.

This healing pond can conjure things our minds may have forgotten,

But our bodies always remember.

Carla rises from the stump and is the first to take to the ice.

She glides across it with the ease of a competitive figure skater.

Her ruby and amethyst cape takes flight on the breeze,

Created by her momentum.

The gleaming silver blades cut into the ice,

Leaving thin glowing lines in their wake.

Powdery ice crystals project into the air and then fall around the illuminated lines like stardust.

Ava and Cora join her,

Circling the pond with intention,

And you sit on the stump,

Mesmerized by their motions.

From the sideline,

You can see the bigger picture.

The blades of their skates create portraits of their younger selves.

Every line and curve carved into the ice glows in a soothing shade of periwinkle.

Carla notices you have yet to join the ice and skates over to extend her hand.

Come along,

My dear.

You may discover some hidden talents you didn't know you had.

Your eyes find it easier to walk across the frozen blades of grass and ice-covered twigs than you expected.

One blade lands on the ice at a time.

You steady for a second and then find yourself in motion,

Not entirely in control and yet not out of control either.

Cora declares,

Trust your intuition on this one.

Your feet know what to do.

You skate with ease,

Flowing and turning in ways that feel right.

You feel the energy in your heart center and your solar plexus,

Swirling with a welcome warmth and guiding you with a gentle tug.

Nothing could disrupt your balance because everything is in total alignment.

The night wind,

The ice,

And your skates come together to aid you.

You inhale deeply and silvery white condensation clouds form on the winter air when you exhale.

You pass around the western side of the pond,

Coming out of the shadows of the evergreens and into the moonlight.

You skate to the edge where frozen cattails rise out of the thin ice and turn around to face the pond.

The witches have also traveled to the opposite edges.

And in the space where you skated,

You see a portrait of yourself on the ice.

It is a younger version of you that may have most needed a little more love and kindness than you received at the time.

It's normal to experience this at points in your life.

But the innocent expression in your eyes and the tender smile on your lips in this icy rendition make you long to go back to that younger you with unbridled compassion.

With this thought,

The fairies arrive and come from another path through the forest.

They light up the darkness with an array of pastel rainbow hues.

You hear the young voice you heard before.

It is the voice of a younger you.

The fairies lead not only this younger you onto the ice,

But also the younger versions of the three witches.

You are profoundly moved by the realization that even healers need to heal themselves.

It is an honor to be part of this moment for the witches.

And all your other visits,

You were the one tended to.

But this time,

The witches feel comfortable enough to reveal their vulnerabilities and share this experience with you.

Carla,

Ava,

And Cora skate around the perimeter of the pond to join you.

Their jewel-toned velvet capes float in the air and glimmer in the moonlight.

They become as still as the frozen cattails as the fairies bring your younger selves to the edge of the pond.

These younger versions are full of awe.

With eyes so wide,

The whites of them resemble full moons.

You hear these sweet souls cry out,

That's me!

When they see themselves captured in portraits carved in the ice.

Four fairies come along and drape these younger souls in smaller velvet capes that match yours and the witches.

You think back on times when it was so wonderful to feel seen and noticed.

To be reminded how much you matter.

How much you are loved.

The fairies sing and wave their wands above the younger yous,

Transforming snow-covered boots into skates.

The three witches skate over to their younger selves,

Bringing you along.

When you come to the edge of the ice,

To peer into your younger eyes,

Waves of feelings wash over you.

You remember the feeling of innocence and wonder,

And deeply yearn to foster that and protect it.

You ask your younger self if they would like to skate and place your hand in their mittened hand to glide across the ice.

The witches do the same with the younger and smaller versions of themselves.

They were never strangers to being outcasts,

To learning how important it was to continue on their journey of magic and healing,

No matter the scrutiny,

The judgment,

Or the dismissal that came from others.

Karla,

The eldest of the three,

Took on the greatest burden of protecting her younger witch sisters as best she could.

And through this strife,

She emerged as someone capable of overcoming fear.

She knew her destiny and let it guide her.

And so you and the three witches and your four younger selves soar across the ice,

Right up into the cusp of witching hours.

The fairies sing their joyous songs in perfect harmony.

Every once in a while,

They dare to touch down on the ice and then rise to hover above the wintry oasis.

You love the chance to engage with a younger Karla,

Ava,

And Cora in their small velvet capes.

You skate and move with a freedom you have not felt in a long time.

The cape makes you feel larger than life,

Carefree and ready to take on the splendors of the night.

And in this hypnotic trance,

You find yourself wondering,

Are you ever cared about things beyond your control?

Are you ever invested any time in dealing with judgment that landed on your younger self from the projections of other people's fears?

Being with the witches,

Young and old,

You understand that as alone as you may have felt at times,

You weren't alone in feeling all the things you felt.

Your heart brims with love for everyone here,

And a part of you yearns to protect them.

But all you can do is share your love.

Childlike joy lights up the eyes and faces of every one of you on this magical winter night.

Low-lying,

Lavender-gray clouds roll in over the woods and fat flurries begin to fall.

Your younger self begins to laugh instinctively and opens their mouth to catch the lacy snowflakes.

They tell you to try as well.

You feel your younger hand in yours,

Wishing to freeze time as the night draws to a close.

The memory of this experience will stay with you like a distant,

Beloved dream.

You look into the shining eyes of your younger self and know that time is dwindling.

And so you say the words you wish someone had continued to say throughout this trying year of life.

And when you have bestowed all the love and wisdom you can on your younger self,

Carla brings everyone together in the center of the pond.

She clears her throat,

More emotional than you have ever seen her,

And says,

I know things may feel really hard sometimes,

But there are great things to come.

Don't think that the unkindness you receive is ever deserved.

You deserve to be happy and to be loved and to be the person you were born to be.

The fairies indicate that it is time to go.

And so you say goodbye,

Knowing one day you will meet again.

And just as quickly as your younger selves appeared,

They disappear into the night as the snow falls harder.

Ready,

Ladies?

Carla asks.

Tiredness takes hold.

Your lungs feel as they would after a long swim or fit of giggles.

Your cheeks and lips have the soft,

Sweet burn that comes from a night of smiling.

You revel in these sensations,

These reminders of all that has transpired.

Once changed into your boots,

The fox reappears to guide you home.

He's not needed for the journey,

But he feels a value by being there consistently as moral support.

And you feel valued,

That he always checks in with a kind of guidance that everyone wants deep down sometimes,

But may not be able to admit.

You stay back and wait for Carla.

She comes and wraps her arm around your shoulders.

Her ruby and amethyst cloak covering yours.

Thank you for being part of this night.

I long ago thought a spell could be cast to take away the past and all its wounds.

But then I realized,

In loving who we are and where all the things take us,

That every step mattered.

We have our whole lives to tend to those parts of ourselves.

And to not let these lessons get in the way of a little magic and fun.

Soon the four of you are tucked inside the juniper log walls of the cottage.

As the fire burns into embers,

Your capes are hung on wooden pegs and dry near the fireplace.

You satiate your hunger and warm your insides with the hearty stew crafted by Eva.

Imagination,

The black cat,

Curls at Cora's feet while her furry offspring cuddle amongst the rest of you.

Eva rises to grab a tincture for sleep and healing dreams.

She goes around the room and drops the minty,

Soporific oil onto everyone's temples and massages it in with a swirling motion made by her index fingers.

You offer to anoint her with the sleepy oil and she happily agrees.

You are the first to retire to the sleeping alcove and your tortoise-shell friend follows you up the spiral stairs.

A creek beneath your feet,

The soft murmurs of the witches remind you of times as a child you fell asleep to the sounds of murmurs of adult voices.

Freshly laundered pajamas are folded neatly at the end of the bed and smell of lavender and clean linen.

You change into them as the cat hops onto the quilt and curls up in a ball.

You draw back the cool,

Heavy cotton patchwork quilt and top sheet and discover a small piece of parchment paper rolled into a scroll.

You untie the scarlet ribbon around it and open the note to reveal a message from the three witches written in calligraphy.

It reads,

Always remember that you are loved and welcome at our cottage any time.

You smile to yourself and climb into the bed as moonlight filters into the room through the falling snow and gauzy clouds.

The snow comes down steadily,

Landing and pattering on the thatched roof.

You are safe,

Warm and dry,

Tucked in the alcove,

Overflowing with appreciation for another adventure and the hope for many more to come.

You drift between worlds,

Feeling the same lightness you felt traveling through the portal through time.

You glide across the snow-covered bridge,

Levitating and floating.

Let the wintry breeze deliver you to sleep or to a new story where magic prevails.

A Tale of Time at the Witch's Cottage The late afternoon light filters through the canopy of evergreen trees above the witch's cottage,

Casting the home in a gilded aura.

Feathery branches sashay on the pine-fresh breeze.

Their susurrations accompany the distant yet persistent ticking of clocks.

The melodic songs of birds and fairies come together to join the synchronous clicks of each second hand.

Not waiting for an invitation on this visit,

You show up to the cottage because you need to be reminded of a place in space and time where the things that empower your soul are of the utmost importance.

A place where differences are celebrated,

Dreams are fostered,

And the mundanity and routine of human life is replaced with an experience of renewal as if witnessing the world through the eyes of a child.

The stone and juniper wood facade brings a smile to your face as you revel in the chance to revisit this familiar home away from home.

Wisteria drapes down the knotty wood fence that whimsically swirls like licorice twists.

The herb gardens planted before the cottage are more lush and abundant than they have ever been.

The stairs to the porch creak beneath your feet,

Letting the witches know you've arrived.

The telepathic powers had them expecting you,

And so they prepared your sleeping nook accordingly,

With a foresight to also prepare your favorite meal.

There,

Sleeping in the shower of sunlight,

Is the Red Fox.

Somehow,

He was also aware of your arrival,

Even before you decided to visit.

The fox's eyes open demurely,

And he lets out a playful yip to greet you.

You lock eyes,

Feeling welcomed by the spirit animal.

You raise your hand to grasp the circular cast-iron knocker,

And before you get to knock,

Cora swiftly opens the door and meets you with her resplendent smile.

Her cheeks are flushed,

And her long strands of hair are hit by the sun in a way that makes them twinkle like holiday tinsel.

Her energy sparkles,

And just being around her awakens the effervescence and liveliness in you.

At the same time,

Cora has a seriousness to her.

You caught her in the middle of an important task,

But right now,

Making you feel welcome becomes her priority.

She wraps her arms around you and tells you to come inside.

The velvet collar of her long dress brushes softly against your cheek as she draws back and leads you by hand into the cottage.

You enter and find Carla and Ava chatting over hundreds of clocks scattered about the main room.

Firelight brightens the walls as metallic orange flames reflect on the clock faces of stopwatches,

Grandfather clocks,

Cuckoo clocks,

Sundial clocks,

Digital watches,

Hourglasses,

And radio alarm clocks from every era of the 20th century.

The witch's cottage looks more like a clock shop than the familiar dwelling you visited before.

Yet,

The cat you named from imagination's last litter comes to you and rubs her fuzzy body against your legs.

Cora takes your coat and offers you a velvet and offers you a velvet robe to wear.

Sprigs of dried lavender,

Rosemary,

And thyme spread across the rustic dining table,

Along with pieces of raw amethyst and clear quartz.

Four unlit white pillar candles rest in the center of a hand-crafted bronze platter that predates even the witches.

Carla looks up,

Her maternal gaze offering an unspoken welcome.

Ava continues arranging the clocks until you say hello and she comes back to the moment as if taken out of a daydream.

Carla laughs heartily,

Welcome back.

What perfect timing.

You know,

Einstein used to pop up in the afternoons for a visit during his naps.

He would tell us that time is an illusion,

But really,

What isn't an illusion?

You drape your body in the robe and inhale the exotic botanical aroma of the dried herbs and flowers and the natural soap used to clean the robe that's left a perfume of essential oils.

Adorned in lacy purple fingerless gloves,

Ava plucks at the second hand of a grandfather clock as if finger-picking a banjo.

Just in time,

Time is of the essence,

She playfully chides,

The witches are extra coy and jolly on this visit and as you've not yet been informed of their plans,

You go along with it.

Time waits for no one,

You say innocently and Carla puts all her focus on you.

And that is why we are glad you are here with us.

Illusion or not,

Time seems to have sped up in your world.

Always rushing,

Racing,

Trying to get more things done in one day than any soul needs to get done in a week.

Living beings need time to simply be.

And this is why part of you enjoys the witch's hospitality and the natural rhythm of the woodlands that surround them so very much.

There is no sense of urgency,

Something that has become even more of an illusion than time in the modern world.

Here,

Amid the calming chatter of the witches,

The purrs of imagination,

And her clowder of grown kittens and the crackling of the fire,

You are devoid of urgency and as far from being a taskmaster as one could get.

In the wonderland of this time and space,

Your ability to simply connect and enjoy the sensory experiences of being alive is paramount.

How lovely it is to visit a place where the things that matter actually make you feel good.

Carla explains that they have each prepared a different spell to address how we relate to time.

They ask if you would like to join them,

Emphasizing you are never obliged to partake in anything that makes you uncomfortable.

Curious,

You examine the clocks,

Paying attention to the craftsmanship of each one.

You imagine the many lives who relied on these clocks to account for the minutes and hours.

The faux wood 1980s digital radio clock,

With its sleek design,

Offers a glaring and obnoxious beep that could accompany the morning radio for anyone not easily awakened into a new day.

The cuckoo clocks,

Some from the first wave crafted in the Black Forest during the 1600s,

Are the most interesting to explore.

One of them captures lumberjacks competing to chop logs,

Their axes lowering each second outside of a mountain chalet.

Ava invites you to select a clock for the first spell.

You peruse the collection and pour over the row upon row of clocks,

Organized by type and then by era.

You come upon a gold pocket watch with a fox engraved on the front.

This piece feels like the right one,

And you wrap the chain around your wrist and feel the weight of the watch in your palm.

You bring it to the farmhouse-style table,

And place it next to a small bouquet of lavender picked from the garden that morning.

Ava explains this time-stretching spell may be used to slow down our perceptions of time so the spellcaster and all involved may savor the present moment.

It helps to slow down perceptions of time and luxuriate in each moment.

It's a spell also good for being meticulous with details and slowing down enough to recognize and appreciate each one.

Carla claps her hands together and holds them against her heart,

Expressing this is a great spell to start with.

Ava asks you to place the clock in a crystal bowl.

She gathers a handful of dried thyme and a sprig of lavender that she rubs between her fingers,

Sprinkling them over the clock face.

One by one,

The witches go around the room with incantations focused on their desired outcomes.

Carla's intention is to mother herself in the way she has mothered the world.

She is often so caught up in the needs of others that she forgets that she needs nurturing too.

Ava wishes to slow time,

To cherish moments spent together,

And to be less concerned with the next manifestation.

Because her concerns about the future cause her to forget all the manifestations that brought the gift of the present moment.

Cora wishes to stretch time,

To enjoy silly bouts of laughter,

For one laugh is never long enough for her sides to split delightfully and for its effects to linger throughout the day.

The three sisters look to you for your wish,

And you let it be known.

And with that,

You all join hands and close your eyes.

You feel the warmth of the fire on your back,

And the velvet against your skin.

You feel Cora's soft hand in one.

It smooth and still retains the smell of baked goods she prepared at dawn.

You feel the confident,

Strong energy of Carla in your other hand.

She offers a feeling of trust that never wavers.

And in your mind's eye,

Your incantation comes to life.

Time stretches and slows down like a dream.

Surreal,

Yet with glimpses of reality that you most enjoy.

You see yourself moving through your favorite setting,

Appreciating how healthy you feel in this elongated moment.

Light,

Relaxed.

You both experience and observe yourself.

As the participant,

You are carefree and jovial.

You can adapt to anything that happens in this moment,

With flexibility,

Ease,

And soothed by the primal sense that everything will be okay.

As the observer,

You watch yourself with love and appreciation for the amount you have overcome to now thrive.

The serenity on your face is infectious,

And any interaction would impart the same serenity and bliss on every soul to come your way.

It feels good to be so grounded in the stretch of time.

And like a dream,

You feel like a day has passed in mere minutes when you open your eyes.

The witches return from their reveries and open their eyes as well.

You turn to see the fox outside the window,

As if he was a part of all of this.

Meanwhile,

The cats pile on a colorful braided rug by the stone fireplace,

Asleep and unaware of the spells taking place.

It's now Cora's turn,

And she gathers a tabletop analog alarm clock,

Covered in a vibrant array of gemstones and two brass bells.

The face of the clock is made of moonstone.

Cora reveals that her spell for clock cleansing will eliminate the negative energy that makes time feel rushed or chaotic.

Cora places the clock into an ancient wooden bowl and then picks up a crystal pitcher.

The vessel contains water gathered from the stream in the woods.

She remarks that no one has ever told a stream how fast it must run.

It flows through time without judgment or expectations.

She hands her sisters and you a sprig of rosemary each,

That you all instinctively raise to your noses.

To inhale its evergreen pine-like fragrance.

One by one,

You take turns swirling the top needles of the sprig into the water.

Cora leads you with healing incantations.

I free myself from the demands of time.

I approach time fluidly like a stream.

Coursing and flowing naturally.

Small ripples magnify and distort the iridescent moonstone face of the clock.

A bleary image appears on the water,

Only becoming clear when the waves become still.

The water reveals a vision of you in a situation where others are rushing.

They try to hurry you,

Yet you remain calm,

Moving at the pace that is right for you.

Disconnected from any pressure to do anything by a certain time.

You feel the beauty of having all the time to do whatever you want.

Milestones come when you are ready,

And dreams are launched when you wish to take a new path.

The water begins to move again.

The undulations become a small whirlpool that reveals you looking the best you ever have.

You are completely still and calm in the vortex.

A reassuring feeling takes over you.

Cora dips your fingers in the water and a soothing energy travels through your hands.

It courses through your body,

Up to the crown of your head.

And down your torso and legs.

You feel refreshed and cleansed.

Hopeful for all the new starts that life may offer.

And all the opportunities to come at whatever time they arrive.

By now,

The sun has disappeared and twilight casts the outside world in a navy tint.

Inside the fire burns brightly,

Appreciated even more in the absence of the sun.

A comfortable silence has taken over the cottage.

As Carla begins to speak,

She reveals her timeless meditation spell.

A spell she feels the cottage has always evoked to all visitors who travel the astral plane.

From Einstein to Maya Angelou.

She passes a white pillar candle to each of you and then requests that you select a piece of amethyst or clear quartz.

You select the crystal that most resonates with you.

For this spell,

Carla expresses that as you light your candle,

You hold the space for silence and peace.

Everyone keeps a crystal in their dominant hand and a candle in the other.

Carla strikes a match against the table and lights her candle,

Using the flame in hers to ignite the wick in yours.

Until you are surrounded by a ring of flickering candlelight,

Carla asks for you to become fully present and in the moment.

No matter where or when you are,

This meditation connects you with a sense of timelessness.

Her last request is that you close your eyes to envision a place inside yourself that is forever timeless.

You flesh out the details of this place,

Knowing wherever you go,

The timeless part of you comes along.

The smell of the candles burning and waves of their light on your face bring you to a deeper state of peace.

The cool,

Jagged crystal becomes warm in your hand and makes you resolute in honoring all that is timeless.

The parts of you that remain timeless.

And the places like the witch's cottage that make you feel deeply connected to all that is timeless.

The tick-tock sounds of the clocks bring you back to the room.

The witches smile and Carla says,

And now we eat.

Cora and Ava gather the timepieces throughout the cottage while you help Carla clear the spell ingredients from the table.

And without a mention of time,

It flies by,

And you are soon joined at the table to enjoy a lively meal.

The timeless tradition of sharing food for more than sustenance.

What a privilege it is to be among the witches for this healing time.

Ancient bowls of your favorite dishes are passed around the table and served until you are satiated and slightly sleepy.

After dinner,

You gather around the fire.

Everyone has changed into monogrammed jewel-toned pajamas.

You nurse a cup of tea made to induce peaceful dreams and deep slumber.

Your favorite cat curls by your side.

As the flames become embers,

You reflect on how long the witches have been part of your journey,

Humbled by being in the company of souls who have also sought their timeless magic and wisdom.

Moonlight pours through the front bow windows.

The fox has long since taken off and settled in his den.

The fairies have come out for their nightly dance and have since returned to their castles in the white birch trees.

The fire burns down into embers as the grandfather clock strikes twelve.

Time may be an illusion,

But you can certainly feel its passage as your eyes become heavy.

The witches sense your sleepiness.

Their playful energy subdues and they too languish in a sleepy haze.

The interior of the cottage glows from candles that have burned down to their bases.

With hardened drips of wax,

Like waterfalls frozen in time.

You say goodnight and hug each other to seal in the love that was felt throughout the evening.

Every embrace creates a different feeling within you.

A hug from Korra has the sweetness of an embrace from a childhood friend.

Ava's hug evokes memories of all the hugs collected throughout your life and spontaneous moments where you needed to be reassured.

And Karla's hugs are maternal,

Soothing your inner child and filling you with the confidence that you may handle anything that comes your way.

You walk to the winding stairs,

Drenched in prismatic moonlight,

That wind their way to the sleeping alcove.

The cat you named follows you as it has done since kittenhood.

A single candle in the window flickers,

And you look out onto the verdant clearing behind the cottage.

The blanket of night casts the abundant wildflowers in an indigo hue.

You look to the bed to see a scroll of parchment paper and a sprig of lavender tied with a purple silk ribbon.

You untie the delicate bow and unroll the message left by the witches.

You hold the fibrous paper in the light of the moon and dancing candlelight and read the beautiful script written in fountain pen.

Remember your time is as valuable as anyone else's.

Choose to use it how you wish.

Love Korra,

Ava,

And Karla.

You blow out the candle and place the note on the windowsill.

You pull back the patchwork quilt,

A new addition to the space,

Stitched by Ava over the long stretch of winter.

The gold thread like angel hair stitches together satin and velvet patches from shawls and dresses once worn by the witches.

As you climb beneath it and tuck yourself in,

You feel protected by their energy that lingers in every silky thread.

The cat cuddles next to you and places a paw softly on your hand,

Bringing a wave of connection that ushers you to sleep.

You waft between worlds,

Reveling in the comforts of your bed at home,

The sleeping alcove of the witch's cottage and the dreamscape that beckons you with a promise of deep peace.

You appreciate that at night,

You are able to exist in so many wonderful places simultaneously.

And you let go,

Surrounded by a cloud of glittering stardust as you float through the universe and choose to land in the realm of sleep or visit the witches once more.

The Courage Potion Courage doesn't always roar.

Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says,

I'll try again tomorrow,

Mary Ann Rodmacher.

But on the nights when a silent urging beckons you to go beyond your dreamscape,

Traveling through time and space to the enchanted forest and witch's cottage,

The chance to try again and again presents itself.

Yet somehow,

In the loving presence of the witches,

Trying anything doesn't feel like much of a task.

Perhaps that's because they make you feel so safe,

And they make every endeavor playful and inspiring.

Great leaps and bounds of courage are easy to harvest when your mind and body feel calm and grounded,

And fun becomes paramount.

On this visit,

You feel as light as the veil of mist that weaves through the white birch trees where the fairies dance and light up the night.

You feel the smallest particles held together by an energetic force,

Reminding you of how connected you are to the world around you.

Dressed in a tailored coat and warm layers,

Your boots land on the mottled earth and the tapestry of crunchy and soggy leaves,

Every coppery and golden hue nuanced and slightly different.

The fox waits atop a moss-covered boulder,

His neck regally arched toward the brilliant moon.

Not quite full,

But very close to earth,

The moon showers the darkest shadows of the forest with prismatic beams of silver light.

Your journeys before,

And those yet to come,

Need not be marked by a particular goal.

You are just as welcome at the witch's cottage when you need to escape boredom or restlessness as when you seek their wisdom.

But this time,

You yearn for a tonic to deal with the modern world and all its uncertainties.

The lurking surprises and constant change have left you needing to feel safe.

And the witches have survived and prevailed throughout history to understand and offer insights.

The fox lowers his chin to meet your gaze,

And your eyes connect.

His assured stare prompts contemplation.

You consider how he's never once revealed a hint of fear.

Certainly as all beings in any forest,

Even an enchanted one,

He understands fear.

It's an instinct.

Fear prompts action,

And that action is often necessary to survive.

But sometimes that fear leaves a residue,

A layer of trauma that taints perceptions and makes one question each moment,

Even the safe ones.

But sound in the forest,

Listening as the night creatures serenade the lady in the moon,

You feel safer than you ever have.

A globe of protective light,

An extension of the witch's maternal aura,

Surrounds you.

Not always visible to you,

You sense it like when you imagine the most comforting hug from someone who always has your back.

But there are times on this walk to the witch's cottage that you can see this energetic globe swirling around you.

Sometimes it appears like the quick dart of a lightning bug,

Or a shimmering cloud of fairy dust,

Illuminated by the moon in your peripheral vision.

It glows brighter the closer you get to the witch's cottage.

The fox accompanies you,

And a conversation begins.

A telepathic exchange,

Not limited to your fox friend.

You are so in tune with the energy of the enchanted forest,

That you can ask a tree how it feels,

And receive an answer.

It would be easy to mock this,

For telecommunications in the modern world have muted your intuitive ear,

So that only now and then do the unspoken words become clear in your mind.

You think to yourself,

Why can't it always be this easy?

And the fox replies,

But it can.

You consider this for a moment envisioning the days to come with the ease they do here,

To better manage your fear,

Knowing that no matter what,

You will be okay.

You question how the fox is seemingly so fearless in all your encounters.

The fox reminds you,

No creature is fearless.

They learn to be brave by trusting instincts.

His bravery developed in a fun way,

As his mother and littermates taught him through play.

He felt a sense of safety that made it possible to explore and test his own powers.

As he conveys these ideas,

You see them play out before you on the incoming fog that acts like a cinema screen.

Imagery reveals the fox as a cub,

Tumbling down the hill ahead of his littermates that all come to a stop.

He falls into the babbling brook that leads to the witch's cottage.

You watch as his young beady eyes have a flash of panic until he calms himself and his legs involuntarily begin to swim and guide him back to the shore.

And as you watch the fox's memory play out in the fog,

You consider the innate wisdom within your DNA that serves your instincts as magically as a witch's spell.

The fox is forever a welcome companion on walks in the woods,

But you are more grateful than ever before to have this encounter now.

Your bond has grown each time.

Yet it's not surprising that the fox dashes into the darkness of the forest once you arrive at the witch's cottage.

He knows you are always in the most loving and safest hands when you are in their presence.

The gardens before the cottage,

Once vibrant with life,

Are now a mosaic of fallen leaves that carry the wet,

Earthy scent of decay and renewal.

The knotty fence made of wood that twists like licorice sticks spent the summer months dripping in wisteria.

Now it wears crowns of amber and gold as the foliage surrenders to the passage of time and settles in its nooks.

The gate door softly squeals as you open it,

Feeling the weathered wood with your fingertips.

You walk the path to the porch and ascend the familiar stairs.

Each creak beneath your feet sings a welcome melody.

One the witches ignore since they anticipate your arrival every time.

Whimsical twists of green vines cascade down the stone and juniper wood facade with a fullness you don't recall from your last visit.

You pause before the front door and inhale the fragrant night air enhanced with the botanical smells of the witch's brew.

Contentment washes over you as your lips upturn in an effortless smile.

Every muscle in your face relaxes and your heart feels a revealing lightness that makes you aware of how much you have been carrying.

It feels like returning to the first home you've ever known.

A haven where the heartbeat of the forest and the laughter of witches inspire glee.

Besoms in the hands of the unseen enchantresses whisper across the wooden floors in a rhythmic dance on the other side of the heavy door with a cast iron knocker.

The sound massages your ears and causes a wave of delightful goosebumps on your skin.

It joins the whistling winds of autumn as mahogany and chestnut leaves spin around the cottage like music box ballerinas rising toward the sky.

As your hand grasps the cool time-worn knocker,

A sparkling dark blue plume slips under the door crack and out of the windows into the night.

A manifestation of the witch's energy being released into the vastness beyond.

You turn around to watch the clouds rise above the clearing and the stream heading toward the starry velvet canvas of night.

The lady in the moon beckons them to the infinite celestial expanse with a come-hither motion.

A keeper of the light that shines through the darkest hours,

She knows best how to cast away the shadows.

Sparkling like sapphires,

The clouds unveil glimpses of what the witches release into the night.

Old burdens,

Lingering doubts,

And energies that no longer serve them.

It's a dance of liberation,

A vivid display of letting go.

Truly,

You would expect nothing less from the witches.

You can always anticipate theatrical antics whenever the witches are involved.

The plumes become wisps,

Smaller and smaller as they slip away into the sky.

Joyous incantations travel out the windows,

Echoing through the woods.

You grab the knocker and confidently tap it against the door,

Hearing peals of glee erupt within.

The youngest of the sisters,

Korra,

Opens the door and greets you with boundless energy.

Her exuberant hops match the laughter of the witches within.

Intoxicated by the bliss of clearing out the old.

Her strong arms wrap around you in a nurturing hug.

The others look your way and welcome you with a smile.

The witches,

Just like the best of healers,

Know that the only way to help others is to work on their shadow selves.

You instantly feel the lightness of the energy in the room as the witches engage in one last pass over the floor with her sacred brooms.

Karla,

The eldest and most sensible of the witches,

Guides her bism with purpose,

Holding the top of the broom handle tightly against her chest,

Cloaked in an emerald embroidered robe.

With each step,

She releases the weight of perpetual responsibility,

The need to cater to everyone,

To be the archetypal pillar of strength.

The bism becomes an extension of her resolve,

To shed this heavy load,

Creating space for a lighter,

Unburdened existence.

She realized that not only has her perfectionism and overbearingness deprived her of joy,

It has also held her sisters and loved ones back from solving problems on their own.

With one last sweep,

She releases her attachment to this pattern,

And you watch the blue cloud sail across the floor and out the open door.

Eva,

In her purple robe,

Swirls her bism with renewed vigor.

The sparks fly from the bristles and condense in a cloud,

Revealing her quest to break free from settled patterns.

She clears away the comfort zone that has confined her,

Limiting her spells and holding her back from true mastery of her domain.

The bism cleanses the stagnation that hinders her exploration of the vast realms beyond the familiar.

Korra returns to her broom,

Tidying up her favorite corner in the cottage by a bow window looking onto the clearing,

Where the fairies engage in their nightly moon dance.

The bism swishes across the floor in her effort to cleanse the space of her impatience and restlessness.

As the youngest of the witches,

Korra has often felt the unspoken pressure to keep pace with her elder sisters.

The tales and successes of their magical exploits and the wisdom they've gathered over the centuries overwhelmed her growing skills.

In her haste to catch up,

She never allowed herself the grace and time to learn at her own pace to experience the enchanting journey that was uniquely hers.

With each sweep of her bism,

Korra sheds the impatience born from the perception that being the youngest meant constantly striving to prove herself.

The broom becomes a tool of self-compassion,

Allowing her to release the need for instant mastery and embrace the gradual unfolding of her magical potential.

In the midst of her cleansing ritual,

Blue sparkling clouds materialize,

Swirling around Korra like a whimsical aura.

With the ethereal mist,

Vivid scenes unfold,

Depicting Korra as a young witch grappling with impatience until this very moment.

The clouds reveal her struggles,

The moments of frustration,

And the determination that carried her through.

The clouds drift outside,

Joining the last plumes from the sisters that take to the sky.

In this dance of bisms and laughter,

The witches reclaim their essence.

The cottage,

Once adorned with the weight of old energies,

Transforms into a sanctuary of renewed light and possibility.

The front door remains open as the night air cleanses the space.

Dozens of candles flicker in candelabras scattered about the room as a gyrating pattern of golden light and shadows pours onto the cleansed floor.

A cauldron hangs just above the fire in the hearth,

And the breeze carries its steam up the shaft to the chimney.

As the brooms come to stillness,

The cottage resonates with a newfound tranquility,

And your attention turns to the center of the room where a bism waits for you.

It is adorned with a velvet ribbon in your favorite color,

From which a crystal hangs.

The broom levitates above the floor.

Awaiting your retrieval,

Cora removes your coat and exchanges it for a lush robe.

Ava helps you cinch it around your waist.

Carla gazes at you encouragingly as you walk to the heart of the room,

And your hands grip the broom handle.

As you join in the cleansing waltz,

The crisp breeze carries away the remnants of old stories,

Making room for the untold wonders that await in the enchanting night.

Feeling so free,

You glide about the cottage,

Relieving yourself of past traumas and making peace with the ways that your body has adapted.

Self-love and self-acceptance course through your veins,

Empowering you to sweep away the clouds of doubt and any unkind thoughts you may have had about yourself or your situation.

You watch as the sparkling plumes form,

Reflecting the moonlight that pours through the windows and open door like specks of stardust.

You inhale deeply,

And with one final sweep,

You release everything into the night.

The witches cheer you on,

And as you lower the bism,

The beloved cat that you named seasons ago sits at your feet,

Purring and looking at you with its sweet saucer eyes.

Carla smiles.

Wonderful job,

My dear.

She explains that we must accept that these feelings will still return to us,

For the body keeps score of all of our traumas and challenges,

As it does just what it was programmed to do.

But we always have the free will to assess the fears that get in our way,

That cloud our judgment and render us frozen and uncomfortable.

We may sweep them away and make space for healing.

She asks you and her sisters if they feel ready to heal.

Everyone nods with open hearts and minds.

You are awash with the euphoric bliss that comes from knowing that there is always something one may do,

Even when everything feels out of control.

As your eyes gravitate toward the flames in the hearth,

You imagine a life where your primary objective is to soothe yourself,

No matter what happens around you,

Always respecting and acknowledging your feelings while giving yourself a cleansing space as beguiling and encouraging as the witch's cottage.

Carla approaches the cauldron as lavender steam rises.

Each shimmering ingredient comes together to create an alchemy of courage.

With a practiced hand,

Carla controls the steam's movement and stirs the elixir with a graceful dance of intention and reverence.

The flames in the fireplace flicker in response,

Casting shadows on the walls that flutter like ethereal spirits.

As she stirs the concoction in the cauldron,

Carla shares her wisdom about courage.

She speaks of the facade of bravery she wears,

The face that others see.

A face that has weathered countless storms with resilience.

This is the Carla you know well and love.

With vulnerability,

Carla confesses that beneath the exterior of unwavering courage,

She grapples with fears that,

Like shadows,

Occasionally creep into her heart.

She unveils the human side of a witch who has mastered the potion of courage,

Laying bare the truth that even the bravest souls are not immune to moments of doubt.

Her candor inspires you,

Shedding away the shame from believing that some souls are just better at strife and born fearless.

What a relief to see the witches brimming with empathy for themselves and for you,

For all living beings.

In this intimate moment,

The witches become not merely guardians of ancient wisdom,

But also companions on a shared journey of vulnerability and strength.

Carla continues to stir the potion,

Each revolution a symbol of resilience and acceptance.

The potion,

Now infused with the essence of courage,

Radiates a luminous glow that reflects the collective bravery of those gathered in the cottage.

You inhale the fragrant steam with a deep inhalation,

And visions begin to float in your mind like waking dreams.

You see yourself becoming brave,

Advocating for the life you most desire.

And each time you are brave,

It will become easier the next.

All the witches know this as well.

They also know,

And share with you,

That when it comes to courage,

No potion will ever be as powerful or remarkable as a mind that truly believes that change is possible and takes actions that support it.

You and the witches sit in a circle on the hand-loomed rug before the fire.

The colorful pattern softens the creaks of the wooden floorboards below.

As you settle into the silence,

Where only the bubbling sounds of the courage potion are heard,

The hypnotic sound makes the moment otherworldly.

And soon,

Without even knowing how,

You are in the cozy alcove of the witch's cottage,

Settled into bed.

The cat curls against you,

Purring and keeping you warm.

You peer out the windows with tired eyes,

Squinting to see the fox in the clearing,

Witness to all that you released into the night.

He meets you with a knowing gaze,

And you feel his concern,

Compassion,

And love.

He sends a single message before taking off into the forest.

He says,

Trust yourself.

And in a state of trust,

Knowing that deep healing comes easier with a night of great sleep,

You waft toward the realms of slumber.

The potion of courage empowers you to dream,

And to dream big.

Your heart is alight,

Your body is relaxed,

And your mind is clear.

You inhale the sweet,

Comforting smells of antique wood and lavender,

Of fresh linens and the autumn night.

And you could stay in this moment forever,

But curiosity inspires you to float along,

Drifting to slumber,

Or to the final story in this collection.

Moonlit Wishes at the Witch's Cottage If one were to envision the perfect night in the enchanted forest,

It just may be this very night.

The air is damp and slightly cool.

A soft breeze carries the majesty of a low-lying silvery blue mist that floats like dreamy gossamer over the forest floor.

The dark brown earth is enhanced by patches of emerald moss,

With iridescent dewdrops reflecting the light of a full moon.

The sky is clear beyond the lush foliage of white birch trees,

And fireflies dance in the dust of fairies,

Whose presence is felt though they are nowhere to be seen.

Your journey is never complete without a visit from the wise red fox,

But for once,

He doesn't meet you along the path.

You are left alone in the beauty of the night,

Wandering along an abundant stream fed to its brim from winter's thaw.

You feel deeply at peace,

As if there is a warm anchor in your heart center,

Connecting you to a deep sense of love and gratitude.

Rather than feeling the heaviness of anxiety wearing you down like a weight on your chest,

You feel an openness and deep connection to the mystical world around you.

This loving anchor conjures a surprising sense of lightness as you inhale the transformative night air.

Everything in the forest takes on a sheen or prismatic glow in the opal moonlight,

Revealing glittering wonders around every shadowy bend.

You step over the clusters of vibrant red-orange and dark purple mushrooms,

Recalling the mysteries of the forest flora and the healing powers the witches utilize with precision and reverence for them.

Filled with wonder,

You have come here enough times to know that everything in this forest has a special power and purpose,

If not many.

Your recent visits to their cottage have been spontaneous,

Often instigated by you,

But this journey is much like early on when you received a cordial invitation from the witches themselves.

This time,

The invite arrived in an ornate envelope with two layers.

The outermost black paper was cut like lace to reveal a shiny sapphire paper below.

Sealed with gold wax,

The invitation felt heavy in your hands,

Traveling through time and space to leave sparkling gold dust within your mailbox.

The handcrafted envelope had a smell to it,

Somehow it captured the aromas in nature that bring you the greatest joy,

Permeating the air as you went to a place in your home where you could sit and properly read it.

The stationery was so thick that you relied on a letter opener or knife to carefully slice through it.

The card within was so thoughtfully designed,

Inscribed with elegant cursive,

Inviting you to come visit the witches for a celebration.

There was an air of mystery to the message,

Insisting you were to simply show up promptly at nine on the night of the next full moon.

And strangely,

The date of this gathering happened to coincide with your birthday.

As you venture through the forest,

Perhaps there is a part of you that wants to believe the witches just know it's your birthday.

In that way,

Everyone deep down may long for their presence and birth to be appreciated.

But the part of you that remains humble,

Or sometimes may feel unworthy,

Gives you pause,

As it does in any human soul from time to time.

And if there's one thing time has proven to you,

The witches are always there to remind humankind of their worth and value and butterfly effect on the world and universe.

These thoughts form a seesaw in your mind as you continue along the familiar path to the witches' cottage,

Listening as the songs of crickets and frogs give praises to the night.

As you look at the starry sky once more,

As the moon appears brighter and larger than before,

Surely it must be a supermoon.

And dangling from it on a lunar swing is the enchantress of the moon.

Her graceful toes reach for the stars as she swings back and forth,

Looking down lovingly as you travel beneath the willowy shadows of the trees.

She shines the moonlight a bit brighter,

Directly on the path to the witches' cottage.

It's strangely quiet for an allegedly celebratory night.

You see the witches' cottage in the clearing and peer beyond the knotty wood fence and into the windows.

The juniper logs shine in the dim glow of flickering candles.

But from a distance,

It appears as though the witches may have settled for the night.

You can often hear their conversations and laughter when you open the squeaky knotty wood gate into the gardens.

But tonight,

The only sound you hear is your own breath.

A part of you questions if you misunderstood.

Perhaps you confused the date or time or even the moon.

Or maybe the witches have some other ritualistic celebration in mind.

For all you know,

It could be a silent meditation.

You ascend the creaking steps to the porch and wrap your fingers around the cool cast-iron knocker to wrap on the door.

You hear a quiet shuffle inside,

And then the faint voice of Korra,

The youngest witch,

Who welcomes you by name and tells you to come in.

It may be quiet,

And the cottage may seem dim,

But there is a kinetic energy that is palpable just as you grab the ancient engraved doorknob and open the door into the foyer.

As you step indoors,

There is a burst of vibrant light as a dozen fairies shine their brightest and the three witches stand together and cry out,

Surprise.

The red fox runs across the room with a hand-stitched banner embroidered with the words,

Happy Birthday,

And your name.

Your beloved fluffy tortoiseshell cat chases the fox,

Batting at the banner in play.

But even in the full glory of their praises and smiling faces,

It takes a moment to process that all this was planned for you.

The rustic farmhouse table is adorned with a cornucopia and a five-layered cake that rises so high from a rose quartz cake stand that it nearly graces the bottom of the candelabra chandelier.

Broad silk ribbons in your favorite colors are strung across the exposed wooden beams.

Your cat gives up on the banner upon realizing you've arrived and runs over to rub against your legs,

Inviting you to pick her up.

You oblige,

Holding her soft purring body against your heart,

Welcomed by her warmth,

A true contrast to the night air of the forest.

You feel so loved and comforted,

Struck by the magnificent yet simple sensation that you've returned home.

Carla's dress brushes the wooden planks of the floor,

Catching and reflecting the light from its satin embellishments as she walks over to you.

She holds a woven box wrapped in a velvet ribbon and made fancy with dried sprigs of your birth flower.

Her sisters Cora and Ava follow suit as the three approach you with a group hug,

Wishing you a blessed birthday.

Your favorite kitty leaps from your arms onto the wooden floor,

Having had enough of the embrace.

A chorus of laughter ensues,

But it's the fox who laughs the loudest.

The witches encourage you to open the gift,

And so you untie the lush ribbon.

It slips through your fingers and gracefully drifts to the floor in suspended animation.

You lift the top of the box,

And an aura of light appears,

Revealing a folded piece of parchment paper with fibrous textures.

With a fibrous texture and wavy edges,

It's the hue and pattern of a white birch tree.

You unfold it to reveal your birth chart.

Created by the three witches with their divine insights and interpretation,

Carla expresses the chart will help you understand your unique cosmic makeup,

Strengths,

And challenges.

Tonight,

She explains,

Is a celebration to foster a deeper connection with the significance of your birth.

She explains that no matter how you may feel about your birthdays of yesteryear and those yet to come,

There is profound significance in honoring the day you stepped into the human realm.

And tonight,

She says,

We celebrate you.

The fairies flutter about the room,

Filling the air with glimpses of past birthdays in hologram form.

You see yourself from day zero until now,

And in this collection of you,

The milestone birthdays,

The birthdays that surprised you,

The birthdays that perhaps weren't what you hoped they would be,

All come together like a kaleidoscope.

Collectively,

The moments become beautiful together,

Dancing in the sweet,

Healing air of the witch's cottage.

As you observe your birthdays gone by,

You walk through the holograms,

Suddenly transported through time with each one.

But as an observer,

With a bird's eye view,

It feels as though you are watching a movie,

Revealing a whole story.

Seeing yourself as a toddler,

As a child throughout the years that you learned how to be in this world,

You feel compassion for your younger selves.

In the healing haven of the witch's cottage,

These three powerful beings have given you the greatest birthday gift of all,

An appreciation for the gift of life.

You feel a sense of resilience,

Knowing that no matter the lens you choose to look at life through,

And no matter the twists and turns that brought you here,

You have made it through them all.

And this is a fact,

Unswayed by sentiment,

Overthinking,

Judgment,

Or self-doubt.

The permanence of this fact opens your heart to a level of deep appreciation for your body,

Evolving and growing,

And keeping you alive even when you weren't noticing.

Cora and Ava come to your sides,

Linking their arms with yours at the elbow.

Pure love comes from these dear friends,

Their eyes shining on you,

Reflecting all the wonderful things they recognize in you.

Carla joins them and says,

There's no room for modesty tonight.

Humankind does far too much judging and criticizing and belittling,

And all that does is snuff out the magic within.

We're gonna let that magic shine tonight.

The fairies get the celebration in full swing,

Toasting sparkling bubbly drinks.

Carla goes to an old Victrola,

And as the needle lands on the spinning vinyl,

You can see the sound waves appear in the air,

Sparkling crests and troughs of color adding vibrance to your birthday party.

There's a dreamy quality to the movements of everyone,

As one of your favorite uplifting songs plays throughout the ancient home.

Moonlight pours through the windows,

Filtering through a skylight in a thatched roof,

As the witch's forest neighbors gather on the dewy grass outdoors,

Drawn in by the melodic incantations of modern music and the joyous energy that emanates from the cottage.

The witch's horses enjoy a spontaneous moon dance as the fox's family arrives and the doors to the cottage spring open.

The nocturnal beings approve,

Wondering why every night couldn't contain such festivities.

Within the cottage walls,

The dance ensues in a healing circle of splendor until the song comes to an end.

As the music fades,

An out of breath Carla reveals there is one more surprise before the lighting of the cake.

She gathers your birth chart and certain parts of it begin to glow,

Innately lighting up parts of your body with warm,

Loving sensations.

Your heart feels full and content,

Your lips turn up in an involuntary smile,

And as these feelings are enlivened,

Carla reminds you of the souls throughout your journey who influenced,

Inspired,

And loved you into being.

Perhaps these are souls you have longed to reunite with.

Perhaps they are souls you never met in the physical realm.

Ava asks if you are ready for this final surprise.

Her face alight with curiosity and wonder.

You know the witches are always in tune with your deepest yearnings and come with encouragement and compassion.

You trust them infinitely,

For they are always motivated by love,

Peace,

And healing.

You nod and smile,

And the front door of the cabin flutters until it swings open once more into the night.

Amidst the gathering of enchanted forest dwellers,

The silvery blue mist rises theatrically,

Swept by the wind,

And in the enduring pearly light of the moon,

You see the faces of souls you would most want to arrive and celebrate you.

In this mystical land,

All challenges or shortcomings evaporate,

And only the most beautiful memories and connections prevail.

Whoever shows up for you in this moment is someone you yearn to connect with.

And remember the parts of you they brought to light.

They helped you fully live and feel the most wonderful connections a soul can have.

They may be human,

They may be animals,

Or maybe it's simply the one person,

More than anyone,

You would like to invite into the witch's cottage for this single night of celebration.

Your surprise guest or guests ascend the stairs,

Coming into this sacred place where magic lives eternally.

Carla and Ava carry the cake.

The weight of the rose quartz stand and the heft of the five-layer dessert require them both.

Kor lights tall skinny candles that shoot off gold and silver sparks as everyone joins in song to wish you a happy birthday.

The witch's long jewel-toned gowns swish across the creaking floorboard as their voices sing out and you face the candles to make your wish.

They stand and pause.

The cottage becomes still and quiet before the shooting candle sparks and you gather the fragrant night air into your lungs.

You luxuriate in this moment as time feels like it stands still.

And you consider the wish you will make on this birthday.

And as your mind shuffles through a deck of scenarios,

Of longings and passions that still stir in your heart and mind,

The holograms of birthdays past and now birthdays to come dance around you in translucent orbs the size of Christmas baubles.

And then all versions of you come together,

Led by your highest self.

The self the witches seem to always know and understand.

Sometimes it seems better than you do.

And with the strength of all versions of you,

Looking out for the best path forward,

You make your wish and blow out the candles.

The fairies clap,

Spreading rainbow fairy dust throughout the ambient light of the juniper cottage.

All doubts fade away as you open yourself to the possibilities to come.

But for tonight,

You simply enjoy the gentle flow of conversation and reverberating waves of love that come your way.

You spend time with your special guests,

Reminiscing about the moments you hold dearest.

Seeing these memories come to life in the rich gold flames in the stone hearth.

In the cottage,

Thoughts have the power to theatrically come to life.

Their imagery playing out in flames,

Floating orbs,

And libations.

Come midnight,

After the cake has been had,

And dancing fades into comfortably lounging in the witch's overstuffed chairs and sofa.

Carla begins a midnight tea service.

Guests are offered different leaves and sprigs to create the perfect tonic for sleep and dreams.

Cora explains how she loves to celebrate birthdays.

For every milestone reminds her to consider her own wishes for herself,

And of course the ones she has for others.

For you,

On your birthday,

She wishes that your heart keeps the exuberance of youth,

No matter the scars or heartache along the way.

That you always choose love.

Carla raises her cup of tea and says,

May the moon light your path,

And its gentle glow guide you through the coming years,

Offering clarity and insight in times of uncertainty.

When it's Ava's turn,

She wishes you find enchantment in the everyday happenings,

Never losing sight of the presence of magic in every moment,

Even in the boring routines.

Your beloved guests wish that you may always remember your fondest moments together,

And that they outshine all other memories.

The festivities easily transition into a gentle close,

No words left unsaid,

No love left unshared.

The mystical beings who graced your party,

From fairies to sprites,

Fade into the night,

Their laughter and song echoing in the misty air.

Nocturnal neighbors take refuge in their wooded dwellings,

And your surprise visitors wish you good night in their tender,

Unique ways,

Promising to remain present in your mind when you need to feel their love and encouragement.

You make your way to the alcove above the witches' parlor.

The warm glow of candles casting a soft illumination nestling into the bed beneath a quilt.

You are greeted by the comforting presence of the fluffy tortoiseshell cat purring softly as she settles beside you.

The full moon peers through the skylights,

Bathing the room in its ethereal light.

Amidst the many pillows behind you,

You discover an intricately embroidered pillow that bears your name and the simple yet profound message,

You are magic.

The words resonate deeply,

Casting a final spell of warmth and reassurance over the evening's enchantments.

Your eyes are so heavy that you no longer resist their desires to close out the world and draw within.

The witches,

Too,

Retire to their chambers.

Their quiet movements in the cottage blend with the distant songs of night creatures.

Through the cracked window,

A gentle breeze carries the scent of herbs and earth accented by the aroma of dewy grass and the fresh stream.

The rhythmic purring of your cat influences the tempo of your breath as it slows down and becomes deeper.

Moonlight dances across the room,

Creating patterns that dance in tandem.

With your dreams about to launch,

You may enjoy more enchanting seasons of healing at the cottage or welcome the sweet comforts of sleep.

Autumn Forest Spa at the Witch's Cottage.

In the modern world,

Sometimes there is nothing more special than receiving a card with handwritten wishes when so often a text or e-vite delivered to your inbox was considered more timely and efficient.

But the witches could never imagine they would resort to telepathy or inserting themselves into your dreams before ever engaging in a text or email.

When it comes to the written word,

Spelling derives from a spell after all.

They see to it that their messages are crafted with care.

Every note is an unhurried reflection from their doting souls as they set aside special moments to focus all their loving energy on crafting a message with elegant penmanship.

The invitation to their Autumn Forest Spa is worthy of being framed,

Layered with the largest,

Most vibrant fiery red maple leaves pressed in wax.

Glittery gold sparkles frame the hand-made ivory stationery that rests within the pressed leaves.

Written in the oldest sister's script,

It reads,

Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go,

So come join us in the forest and let go of all your earthly concerns as you welcome the Earth's greatest pleasures.

Love,

Carla.

You keep the card tucked within your bag as you travel the familiar path that winds through the enchanted forest.

Clover honey sunlight of late afternoon pierces through the lush foliage overhead to dapple the mossy ground and scattering of fallen leaves.

You follow the red fox beyond the dancing fairies who jovially greet you,

Each having their own magical hand in helping with tonight's luxuries.

Their sparkling presence reflects on the canopy of waxy burgundy,

Vibrant red,

And sunshine yellow leaves that rustle in the breeze as a shower of fairy dust falls upon you in their midst.

The witch's cottage soon comes into view,

Yet the fox guides you in a different direction,

Toward a pumpkin patch with thick dark green twisting vines and dozens of pumpkins,

Some as tiny as paperweights and some looming large and nearly half your height.

A rustic burnt wood sign reads,

The Moonspell Spa,

And just beyond is a suspended rope bridge over the babbling brook that you've not seen before.

You hear the sweet,

Warm laughter of the witches long before they come into view as a barrage of smells meets your nose.

Warm spices like cinnamon,

Nutmeg,

And cloves marry the aromas of eucalyptus oil and fire-kissed pumpkin,

A hint of wood smoke,

The calm song of a string quartet,

And the crunch of leaves beneath your feet,

Joy to create an ambience that feels like coming home.

At the same time,

You feel connected to the earth,

Fully grounded and appreciative to be here.

The sense of peace seems long overdue.

At the same time,

You feel light in your heart as all is safe and sound.

The fox peers back at you before quickening his pace,

And you laugh softly as you aim to catch up.

You enter a small clearing where a tall bonfire licks the cast iron bottom of a cauldron full of autumn spices and bobbing,

Charred pumpkins to fill the air with their sweet perfume.

The three sisters look absolutely stunning and regal,

Although more vulnerable than you've ever seen them before,

With their hair piled high beneath silk and velvet turbans that match their long,

Flowing silk robes cinched around their waists.

Carlo wears deep crimson,

Ava's in purple,

And Cora in teal.

The backs of the robes feature a celestial scene,

Embroidered in silver and gold with the words,

Moonwell Spa,

Wrapping around in the shape of a crescent moon.

The red fox sits beneath the string quartet,

Its music played not by musicians,

But by a mysterious magic in the air.

The bows glide effortlessly,

Levitating as they draw across the strings,

Which are pressed down by an unseen force.

The fox takes in the reunion of you with the witches,

His countenance taking on a human quality as he watches.

Carla is the first to spot you.

Seeming lighthearted and more vibrant than ever before,

She comes to greet you with a warm hug.

Carla relieves you of the weight of your bag,

Placing it in a cedar hope chest.

Ava brings you a wooden cup of autumn tea.

The tea includes secret calming herbs,

As well as cinnamon bark,

Cranberry,

Dried apples,

And a whisper of chamomile.

Each sip is as silky as the robes,

Gliding down your throat.

Radiating warmth throughout your chest,

You enjoy the feel of the fine wood grains of the cup in your hands.

As Carla explains,

It was carved from beloved ancient trees that fell down in a storm,

And the witches did what they could to resurrect them so the trees could remain in their lives in another form.

The fragrant steam swirls in thick clouds in the crisp evening air,

Perfectly joining the sweet earthy aroma of the forest around you.

As you finish your tea,

Carla gestures toward a narrow pathway that snakes around pine and cedar trees,

Leading to the outdoor shower.

An elegant wooden structure nestled between the towering evergreens.

You follow her as the air shifts with a scent of damp wood and moss,

The gentle shuffle of fallen pine needles beneath your feet.

The cedar wood shower stands tall,

Its panels kissed by the golden light of dusk.

Cutouts of stars and the moon create a pattern along the top of the shower and an attached changing room.

You catch a glimpse of silk fabric billowing in the breeze,

The last light of the day reflecting off it onto the surrounding trunks and stray pine cones that litter the earth.

You realize it is a gown and turban left for you,

So thoughtfully made in your size and favorite color.

It's such a kind gesture,

The kind you never take for granted as these loving women are always so inclusive and generous.

And just as you wonder how to ever repay them,

Carla reads your mind and with a maternal smile and dazzling eyes that have no end to their depths,

She says,

Your presence here is more than enough.

We always get joy when you visit.

She gathers the robe and turban from the hooks and gently hangs them inside.

She invites you to take your time and savor each moment,

For tonight is about slowing down to meet autumn's languid rhythm.

You step inside the changing area and admire the silk robe illuminated by tea light candles in tiny glass sconces.

You slowly remove your fall layers and the shower magically comes on.

Sensing your presence,

Rainwater gathered from earlier autumn storms is fed into the shower through a hidden system of hot coals,

Warming it to the perfect temperature before it spills out from three shower heads,

Their streams strong yet soothing,

Massaging every part of your body.

They angle perfectly as you move,

Sensing your every direction and adapting,

Intuitively meeting your needs.

Cora's handcrafted soap is perched on a stone ledge engraved with your name in her tiny calligraphy script.

You take a moment to appreciate this gesture.

The first time you've seen your name in soap and once more you are made to feel so welcome,

You're never an afterthought.

The cream-hued bar is smooth and rich with a scent of warm amber and sandalwood.

Its lather is thick and luxurious against your skin.

As you massage it into your body,

The scent rises around you,

Wrapping you in its deep grounding embrace as steam fills the cool air.

You peer up through the trees,

Catching slivers of the sky,

Once more inhaling the fragrant perfume of the pines,

Their feathery branches dancing overhead.

Beneath your feet,

The floor is made of polished stones from the nearby stream,

Each smooth by time and arranged in such a way that they press into your soles,

Offering an acupressure massage.

With each step,

You feel the tension ease from your feet.

A release travels upward,

Discovering places of tension you didn't realize were there until they begin to unknot in your legs,

Your back,

Your shoulders,

And your neck until your entire body feels lighter,

Freer.

The delight in this moment of solitude and comfort is hard to leave,

And it becomes even harder to imagine and experience more soothing.

Yet,

You know the witch as well,

Certain that every piece of this evening will only get better.

When you step out of the shower,

The cool air kisses your skin and goosebumps form,

But you're soon wrapped in a plush towel that still retains the warmth of the afternoon sun.

You change into the silk robe and matching turban for your head,

Delighted by the downy,

Hidden inner layer of warmth.

You take a deep breath,

The last hints of soap mingling with the autumn air.

As you place your feet into a pair of fleece clog slippers,

You open the door to step back out into the forest and glance up at the sky.

The colors are shifting now.

Sunset hues of deep raspberry and molten gold fade into a deepening gradient of dusky blue.

The first stars twinkle,

Distant but steady,

Like tiny diamonds scattered across velvet.

You retrace your steps to the bonfire to encounter the three sisters relaxed,

Lounging in the glow of the firelight.

Their faces are remarkably orange,

And you soon realize it's not just from the fire,

But a pumpkin spice mud mask.

Cora pats her hand on a nearby plush lounge chair and invites you to settle.

She lifts a stone mortar bowl full of the thick mask and a clean brush.

You sink into the chair.

The cushions and pillows warm from the firelight and meet sweet Cora's gaze,

The youngest of the sisters.

She is the most open-hearted.

And true,

All the witches have open hearts,

But hers is somehow more pure and unaffected by the darkness of the world.

It's as though she were born with a special shield that bounces off anything that doesn't align with her kindness and earnestness.

You trustingly close your eyes and feel the soft bristles massaging your face with a cool,

Thick mask.

It smells delightful.

A blend of the earth,

Spiced pumpkin,

Honey,

Toasted almond,

And nutmeg.

The mask is cool at first,

And then begins to warm,

Opening your pores and leaving a feeling of softness.

As Cora finishes,

The other two rise and they invite you to come along.

The moon is now high in the sky,

Illuminating a path beneath the jewel tones of autumn foliage,

To a clearing where steam rises from the wide,

Hollowed-out trunks of ancient trees.

The very trees used to make the teacup you drank from.

Dozens of beeswax candles rest atop the thick wooden sills of the tree hollow tubs.

The tiny flames dance magically in the night air as you separate from the witches.

Each one of you retreating to a bath,

The smells of peppermint and eucalyptus rise on the steam that hovers over the healing water.

As you sink into the warmth of the bath,

Your body instantly relaxes,

Enveloped in soothing heat.

Once more,

The grains of the wood from this ancient tree offer a sense of grounding,

Inspiring a sense of resilience.

The water is silky against your skin,

Infused with forest herbs,

Minty in a way that feels like a flash or a preview of winter's approach.

Stars twinkle in the vast sky,

Framed by the autumn leaves in their richest colors.

The wind sends the foliage into gentle motion.

The moonlight makes them appear to be brushed with silver.

The wind orchestrates the sounds of dozens of bewitching crystal wind chimes strung between branches,

Adding their dulcet tones to the rhythmic brushstrokes of the branches and leaves.

You close your eyes for a moment,

Listening to the sound bath while soaking in a bath.

Serenity sinks deep into your bones as the healing water and sounds soothe your spirit.

An amethyst bowl filled with cool water sits by the tub alongside a soft washcloth.

Suddenly,

Two fairies appear,

Fluttering over the bath with impish charm.

They dunk the cloth into the refreshing water and begin to gently scrub off the remnants of the mud mask.

The scents of baked pumpkin and nutmeg linger in the air.

They hum a sweet song as they busy themselves.

The cool towel is a refreshing contrast to the soaking tub.

Once your skin is clean,

They take the bowl and cloth and disappear into the night.

You submerge your face fully into the warmth of the soaking tub,

The heat seeping into your pores,

Relaxing every inch of your body.

When you surface,

Droplets trickling down your face,

You look up again at the sky,

Feeling awestruck by its vastness.

All human problems become small in the magnificent and endless display of stars in an ever-expanding universe.

In this moment of deep safety and reverence,

It feels as though the forest and the stars are watching over you.

You hear the contented murmurs and soft laughter of the three witches soaking in their own tree trunk baths.

Their voices are low and peaceful,

Blending with the sound of the wind and the chimes.

Carla is the first to step out of the soaking tub,

Corralling the group to move on to the next soothing endeavor.

You dry off once more,

Wrapping yourself in the robe and gliding your feet into the fleecy slippers.

You follow a path lit by torches and moonlight,

The silk robes reflecting the orange gold and pearly silver light.

You follow the witches to a hidden grove,

Where a small campfire crackles softly,

Casting a warm glow on massage beds arranged in a circle.

Their surfaces scattered with shiny acorns that look like tiny sparkling orbs of magic.

You and the three sisters settle atop the beds.

As you recline,

The acorns beneath you begin to move,

Spinning and rotating in the most hard-to-reach nooks of your shoulders and spine.

They seem to intuitively sense the places where your body holds tension,

Pressing gently into your muscles,

Working out knots with precision.

You peer up at the stars,

The crisp air mixing with the warmth of the fire,

And a soft sigh escapes your lips.

The acorns knead into your shoulders and lower back,

Softening your muscles like candle wax,

Delivering a message that the Earth is full of healing powers.

Being here,

In the sacred circle around the fire,

With these wise,

Loving souls,

Fills you with a deep sense of gratitude.

It is a reminder that you are part of something ancient and nurturing.

You close your eyes,

Feeling like a small child on a long car ride home,

Hovering between wakefulness and slumber.

The continuous motions of the acorns lull you,

Your body soothed,

Your heart and mind at peace.

And as you sigh once more,

The motion comes to a gentle halt.

Ava wraps her hand gently around yours,

Her touch soft and reassuring.

It's time to move on,

She whispers.

You open your eyes and stand with her,

And together with the other sisters,

You follow up a winding set of intricate wooden stairs,

Leading through the canopy of the trees.

The air is colder now,

The bite of it causing your nose to tingle,

But it is invigorating,

Filling your lungs with freshness.

At the top,

Carla opens the smooth wooden pine doors to a treehouse sauna.

Its structure nestled among the branches.

The warmth inside welcomes you immediately,

As you settle in with the three witches.

The scent of pine fills the desert dry air,

Rich and resinous.

Carla guides everyone to close their eyes,

Her voice gentle and serene.

Think of your most peaceful memory,

She says,

A moment that brings comfort and makes you feel safe.

It's my favorite bedtime practice.

You close your eyes,

Allowing your sleepy mind to drift.

Your breath slows as you take in the hot sauna air and soon you're back in a cherished moment.

The memory feels vivid,

Yet it merges seamlessly with the present,

As the warmth of the sauna and the love in this circle enhance the experience.

You feel deeply connected to your heart,

To loving memories that remind you of the goodness in the world.

The present moment and the past coexist,

Each making the other feel more real,

More comfortable.

It's a reminder that the world,

Though often chaotic,

Can be a nurturing place when you let it in.

You open your eyes and along with the three sisters,

You stretch your arms overhead and yawn.

Everyone stands and steps back out into the night.

The air is sharp again,

But you feel fortified.

Warmed to the core,

You ascend another set of stairs,

Watching the silky robes before you,

Rippling and swaying back and forth as they dust the stairs and brush against the tree trunks.

You reach the topmost platform,

Feeling close enough to touch the stars.

Here,

A tan hammock swings,

Dangle from the branches,

Swaying gently above the forest.

You settle into one of them,

The woven material cradling you as you sink into its cushions.

Below,

The witch's cottage sits in the distance,

Its log fence twisting like lavender-gray licorice sticks cast in the moonlight.

Trails of smoke curl lazily from the stone chimney,

Winding upward like silver threads.

In the deep blue-black sky,

You feel an irresistible sleepiness.

You begin to settle in,

Your body and mind perfectly at ease,

Balanced between the magic of this moment and the soothing pull of rest.

Carla's voice,

Soft yet sure,

Breaks the quiet.

Whenever you're ready for bed,

Just let us know.

You nod with a sleepy smile.

Suddenly,

The rattan chairs begin to move,

Winding around the trees and descending upon the forest,

Gliding down like a ski lift,

Delivering you just before the witch's cottage.

Your feet land on the earth as you rise out of the rattan chair,

As Cora opens the squeaky door to the knotty wood fence.

As you approach the cottage,

A familiar figure awaits on the porch.

The sweet cat you named seasons ago.

She weaves between your legs,

Purring quietly,

Her warm fur a soft contrast to the night air.

You crouch down to scratch behind her ears,

Her presence a comforting welcome,

Like a little piece of home that always awaits you here.

The rustic wooden floorboards creak softly underfoot as you step inside.

The warmth of the cottage embracing you,

The scent of cinnamon,

Cloves,

And cedar lingers in the air,

Mixing with the crackling fire that burns brightly in the stone hearth.

Autumn decor fills every corner,

Sparkling autumn leaves strung in garland around the exposed wooden beams of the living room.

Their vibrant colors catching the light and adding a magical glow to the space.

Pumpkins and gourds of all shapes and sizes sit on the windowsills.

Their deep oranges,

Lush ivories,

And dusty greens creating a perfect harmony with the wooden textures of the cottage.

A cornucopia overflowing with autumn's bounty sits near the candelabra on the rustic farmhouse table where you have enjoyed so many meals together.

You smile at the sight,

A deep sense of belonging swelling in your chest.

One by one,

You hug the sisters,

Each of them wrapping you in their arms,

So happy to have you back at the cottage.

Sleep well,

Ava whispers,

Her hand lingering on your shoulder.

May you dream of peace,

Carla adds with a knowing smile.

The best sleep is waiting for all of us,

Cora says,

Her eyes twinkling as her strong,

Slender arms pull you into a tight embrace.

You ascend the hidden stairs to the alcove,

Your beloved guest room.

It's always waiting for you,

Always just as welcoming as the first time you arrived.

The room glows softly in the moonlight that pours through the skylights.

The bed with its cool,

Inviting quilt is the centerpiece of the room.

Your bag and belongings are mysteriously,

Yet perfectly arranged in the armoire.

Exhaustion pulls at your limbs with such blissful heaviness that all you can think about is the bed.

You peel back the quilt and climb in,

Still wrapped in your silk robe.

The cat follows,

Curling up and purring next to you.

You pet her once more and nuzzle your face into the silk robe as a wave of deep appreciation washes over you.

For the bed,

For the warmth,

And most of all,

For the three women who see you who accept you and love you exactly as you are.

Your heavy lids take hold,

Closing,

Ushering you into the realm of sleep as you are left with one last thought before you wake.

The thought that you are home.

As you let go of this imaginary world,

Feeling the creative powers within that may transport you through time to another visit with the witches.

Our help you craft soothing dreams as the night unfolds.

The choice is yours.

The Secret Garden of Time.

Ostara marks the balance of light and darkness.

The turning of the wheel when life stirs beneath the soil and breaks through the surface to meet the sun.

No matter how wild the world may feel,

The earth follows its ancient rhythms,

Casting the world with a spirit of renewal.

Shimmering dew-laden blossoms and the trickling fresh water from a recently thawed stream remind us that no season lasts forever.

Change and a fresh start are always within reach and tend to arrive just in time.

As you find yourself back in the enchanted forest that leads to the Witch's Cottage,

Now cloaked in the soothing blues and shadowy grays of early evening,

The Red Fox stands waiting for you outside his den.

With a playful smirk,

He always seems to have a revealing countenance that is part wise and part mischievous.

He nods toward the concealed opening to the den.

You take it as an invitation and approach,

Noticing his mate curling around four young pups in a maternal snuggle.

The nights are still crisp and cool once the sun slips beyond the budding white birch trees.

The fairies are all out,

Singing songs with sweet melodies and critical complaints of how winter lasted a bit too long for their liking.

One of the fairies flutters around you with a smile,

Her lavender wings shimmering as if dusted with moondust.

She tells you of a frozen night in January,

Where her delicate wings were coated in ice,

Leaving her unable to fly.

The witches found her and carried her to their cottage,

Where they fashioned a tiny rattan swing by the hearth,

Allowing her to warm by the fire until she was whole again.

Her story is yet another testament to the witch's boundless compassion for every being in the enchanted forest and beyond.

You sense it has been a long,

Brutal winter,

Making the sweet pleasures of spring all the more welcome and appreciated.

The earth is soggy and soft beneath the soles of your boots as you follow the familiar trail to the cottage.

The witches aren't quite expecting you,

Though their intuition is always on point,

And you are always welcome to traverse through time and space to meet them in their healing realm.

The path before you glows beneath the rising moon,

Dappled with the soft,

Bioluminescent flickers of glowworms nestled in the mossy undergrowth.

The air is rich with the scent of damp earth,

Of budding blossoms awakening to the season's call,

Of fresh rain that had passed through earlier and left a few tiny streams and puddles in its wake.

The cool night air brushes against your cheeks as you move deeper into the enchanted forest,

Your breath rising in soft clouds that drift and dissolve in the silvery light.

The gentle trickling of a nearby stream catches your ear,

Its waters are glassy and dark beneath the moon's gaze.

The fox,

Its fur like burnished copper in the night,

Pauses at the bank,

Lapping at the cool water with careful precision.

His side-eye stare catches your attention for a fleeting moment with an unspoken invitation to join him.

You dip your fingers into the cool stream,

Washing it over your face in what feels like a fresh start.

The water is piercingly chilly,

But in a way that makes you feel blissfully alive and present.

The fox finishes lapping,

Flicks his tail,

And continues on,

The patter of his quick footsteps guiding you forward.

The scent of juniper and pine grows stronger as the trees open up,

Revealing a clearing bathed in moonlight.

The witch's cottage stands just beyond a fence of wood that twists like licorice sticks,

Its juniper log walls glowing with a silvery eggplant hue.

A candle flickers in each window,

Golden hopeful flames whispering promises of warmth and solace.

You step forward,

Reaching for the gate,

Its old wooden frame groaning as you push it open.

The fox,

Ever your guide,

Lingers for just a moment before darting into the woods,

Vanishing into the darkness as he always does.

A soft meow stirs from beneath the planks of the porch as yellow-green eyes glisten in the shadows.

With a playful pounce,

The sleek tortoiseshell cat you named seasons ago is now strong and in her prime as she reveals herself.

She purrs with recognition,

Welcoming you by pressing her furry body against your legs.

You kneel down and her nose touches yours in a delicate kiss as you run your fingers through her fur.

Her coat still has the same velvety softness you remember from years ago.

Her tail flicks once before she darts up the porch steps,

Leading you to the door.

The door creaks open before you even raise your hand to knock,

And golden light spills outward,

Landing on you like a spotlight.

The scent of burning cedar and dried lavender rushes to greet you,

Mingling with something spiced and savory lingering in the air.

Cora and Ava stand just beyond the threshold,

Their eyes warm but unreadable.

For the first time,

They are not adorned in corseted gowns or flowing velvet cloaks.

Instead,

They wear tailored overalls in rich satin and deep velvet,

Sturdy black boots laced high up their calves.

The sight is unexpected,

And you are curious about what the witches are up to.

There's a hesitation,

A subtle shift in the air that you can't quite name.

Cora offers a small smile,

But says nothing.

Ava leans against a tufted velvet armchair,

Her fingers lightly tracing the edge of a steaming teacup,

Watching you with quiet curiosity.

Then Carla enters,

And the energy changes.

She sweeps forward,

Her presence as commanding as a seasoned performer taking a Broadway stage.

Her smile big and unwavering.

You've arrived at an unusual time,

She says,

Her voice rich with intrigue.

A time that has never been shared with humankind,

Though it has always been devoted to humankind's well-being.

She gestures for you to sit,

And as you settle into the worn,

Velvet upholstered chair by the hearth,

She meets your gaze with knowing eyes.

Tell me,

How has life been?

She asks.

The invitation is genuine,

And as you exhale,

You realize how much you need this space.

Here,

Within these walls,

No burden is too heavy,

No truth too sharp.

You speak,

And as the words leave your lips,

Cora and Ava listen with quiet reverence,

Their expressions empathetic and brimming with maternal love.

They lean in slightly,

Absorbing every word,

Every sigh,

Every hesitation.

You speak of the world,

The uncertainty,

The relentless pull of forces beyond your control.

You speak of your own heart,

The fears you have carried,

The exhaustion that lingers in your bones.

The anxiety that you just cannot shake.

And when you finish,

The silence that follows is not empty,

But full.

A space held just for you.

Carla nods.

We have heard many stories,

She says,

And while we may not always have solutions,

We are never afraid to seek them.

Ava rises then,

Moving toward the long wooden table near the hearth.

Upon it,

Small velvet satchels and jewel-toned hues are neatly arranged,

Their delicate drawstrings barely holding the treasures inside.

She lifts one,

Pressing it into your palm.

Tonight we plant with intention,

She murmurs.

One for yourself,

One for loved ones,

One for the world.

Cora chuckles softly as she selects her own satchel,

Brushing a hand over the deep purple fabric.

Carla has been feeding the soil with good intentions for centuries.

She says,

Glancing toward her older sister,

She swears the earth itself remembers.

Carla grins,

The candlelight catching the gold in her eyes.

And it does,

She insists.

Through every great challenge,

Whether wrought by nature or rulers,

I have sown hope into the soil.

And it has never failed to bloom,

And it keeps blooming long after the storms have passed.

Your hands tighten around the satchel,

And you thread its silky ribbon enclosure through your fingers.

The weight of the seeds and bulbs inside grounds you.

As the cat is out of the bag thanks to Carla,

The eldest of the sisters,

Cora and Ava are suddenly excited to bring you outside.

Beneath the star-dappled sky,

A secret garden awaits.

One that has thrived in silence,

Nourished by the sisters' loving hands.

You refuse to surrender to despair,

And tonight you will become a part of it.

Sowing your own hopes into the freshly thawed earth.

Ensuring that even in the most uncertain of times,

Beauty will rise again.

Ava leads you to a small wooden wardrobe.

Its doors carved with twisting vines and tiny embossed flowers.

She pulls out a set of black velvet overalls with deep ruby accents,

The color of love and protection.

You step behind a velvet curtain and change.

As you slip them on,

You notice something stitched inside the inner flap.

Your name embroidered in delicate silver thread by Carla.

The detail fills you with warmth,

A quiet acknowledgement that you belong here.

That somehow,

She knew you might need a little healing yourself in the secret garden.

They trust you,

They see your good intentions and have embraced you as one of their own.

The witches wait patiently beneath the moon's watchful glow.

Their shovels and hoes sparkling as if kissed by the stars themselves.

Even their tools glimmer with enchantment.

Their handles are worn smooth by years of tending to the sacred place.

Their overalls,

Accented with satin sashes,

Catch the night air.

Carla's in emerald green,

Cora's in deep purple,

Ava's in brilliant sapphire.

You,

In your ruby attire,

Feel wrapped in their protection as they carry torches that flicker like the fairies of the white birch forest.

The flames illuminate their faces,

Their expressions calm and certain,

Filled with a wisdom that stretches beyond lifetimes.

The path ahead is a secret,

More concealed than the fox's den.

The mossy forest floor glistens with a coating of night dew,

Twinkling like tiny moonstones spread across the ground.

The torches cast orange-gold ribbons of light that move like elegant fingers across the ancient tree trunks.

You follow the witches deeper into the woods.

The scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine thickens in the cool air.

Soon the path narrows,

Leading you into a cavern where crystals line the walls,

Refracting the torchlight like prismatic sun catchers.

Shades of violet,

Sapphire,

And amber swirl in shifting patterns,

Casting fleeting shadows that seem almost alive.

You hear every step on the stone beneath you as it echoes with the breaths of you.

The vibrations within this cavern offer a sense of peace that goes bone deep.

You step carefully,

The crystalline glow illuminating the passage until it opens into a breathtaking clearing on the other side.

Here,

In the heart of the forest,

Just beyond the crystal caverns,

Is the witch's sacred garden.

The clearing pulses with an energy unlike anything you've ever known.

Blooms of every shape and hue sway in the night air,

Each one planted in times of hardship,

War,

And change.

Each one a testament to resilience.

Roses first planted during an age of revolution spill over their trellises.

Violets and crocuses,

Placed in the earth during moments of uncertainty,

Peek from beneath lush ferns.

Clusters of lilies,

Planted with hope during times of mourning,

Stand proud and tall.

There are blossoms here that have no name,

Their petals shifting color,

As if responding to unseen forces.

Some flowers seem to glow from within,

Their bioluminescent shimmer casting a soft radiance over the dark soil.

The scent is intoxicating.

Sweet jasmine,

Damp earth,

A tangy floral hint of something almost otherworldly.

Carla steps forward,

Her eyes alight with wisdom.

Whenever the world feels out of control,

We must remember we are responsible for our own light.

No force can diminish its power,

And even in the darkest times,

One soul shining brightly can illuminate the way for others.

The luscious flowers stand as proof that even in the chaos,

Life finds a way.

As you plant and tend,

In time the earth returns such care with beauty and abundance.

The witches guide you to a spot where the earth is rich and ready.

The soil is cool and damp beneath your fingertips.

You let your palms sit on the earth for a few seconds,

Grounding yourself and feeling waves of healing flowing through you.

You visualize this earth being transformed by this moment,

By a choice made by you.

Cora hands you a single bulb,

Her slender fingers cool yet soft.

She explains you must plant this for yourself.

You must always take care of your needs so you have the ability to help others.

You plant the bulb,

And set your intentions for all that you wish to become,

And all that you wish to remain.

You kneel,

Pressing the bulb deep into the damp,

Crumbling dirt.

You have a childlike wonder and appreciation that something so unassuming can blossom into something beautiful.

You gently drop handfuls of earth over it,

Letting them sift through your fingers.

The moonlit soil seems to fall in suspended animation,

As if time bends and slows around you.

You take all the time you can to imagine positive moments to come for yourself.

And when you rise and brush the dirt off your hands,

Eva helps to remove a small handful of seeds from your satchel,

Resting like tiny stars against your skin.

She explains that these are for those you love.

And you may scatter them with your wishes for their joy and protection.

The seeds slip through your fingers,

Landing gently upon the soil,

Before you press them into their new home with your thumbs,

And envisioning the faces of those you hold dear.

You whisper their names,

Feeling the silent understanding of the witches beside you.

Lastly,

Carla steps forward,

Placing a collection of bulbs in your hands,

The last remaining in your satchel.

These are for the world.

For every soul longing for peace,

For change,

For something beyond what they know.

Your intention is a spark,

One that will catch and spread,

Uniting the kindred spirits who dream of a better tomorrow.

As you bury them in the earth,

The witches remain silent,

Their presence steady and strong.

The only sound is the rustling of the wind through budding branches,

And the rhythmic beat of your heart.

The fox arrives silently,

Standing at the edge of the garden,

As his fiery coat gleams in the torchlight.

He watches for a moment,

His eyes sparkle with a knowing.

No words are needed for him to understand,

That your intentions for the world include him and his young pack.

The witches tend to their garden,

Quietly singing a song that is familiar and foreign at the same time.

You sit on a stone bench,

Watching them plant their seeds,

Their long tendrils of curly hair undulating in the spring breeze.

An owl hoots in the distance,

And with its call,

The fox takes off into the forest.

Once done planting and casting their loving spell,

The witches sit beside you,

And you all hold one another's dirt-kissed hands,

Staring out at the fertile earth with a sense of trust,

Love,

And appreciation as you sigh in unison.

The journey back to the cottage is quiet,

The air filled with the sounds of the forest.

The moon hangs high,

A silver guardian watching over you,

Its enchantress smiling down upon you.

As you step onto the porch,

The sweet tortoiseshell cat reappears,

Inviting you to pick her up as you follow the witches into the cottage.

Inside,

The hearth crackles with warmth,

And you take turns washing your hands with warm,

Wet towels that smell of eucalyptus.

The witches usher you to a chair by the fire,

Offering a steaming cup of sleepy tea and a savory pastry.

You sip slowly,

Your body still thrumming with the energy of the garden and spring solstice.

As the flames dance along the soot-streaked walls,

Shadows shift and the light shimmers.

Visions of your intentions play out like a movie in the flames,

Whispering of possibilities yet to come.

You watch,

Mesmerized,

As images flicker,

New life unfurling,

Kindness spreading,

Hope rekindling in places long abandoned to despair.

A lump rises in your throat at the sheer beauty of what could be.

And this very vision is all that is needed to change a part of the world.

Carla rises first,

Stretching with an air of satisfaction.

Come,

She says,

A bath has been drawn for you.

In the small alcove above the main room where you often stay,

A clawfoot tub waits,

Steam curling from its surface.

The water is perfumed with floating lavender and rose petals.

A shelf made of twisted vines drapes around the sill of the tub,

Holding an assortment of oils,

Scrubs,

And soaps.

The witches wish you a good night,

Thanking you for being trustworthy enough to share their secret garden with.

You slip into the silky warm water,

As it dissolves every last trace of tension from your limbs and cleans away any lingering garden soil.

The world outside fades,

Reduced to the gentle lap of water and the distant crackling of the fire.

A soft thud at the doorway draws your attention.

The tortoiseshell cat has followed,

Her yellow-green eyes heavy with contentment.

She waits patiently,

Keeping the bathmat warm.

When you step out of the tub,

Your body softened by warmth and tranquility.

You wrap yourself in a warm towel.

The cat leads you back to the sleeping alcove.

Where fresh,

Crisp cotton pajamas are folded and sit at the end of the bed.

The quilt is heavy,

Stitched with care.

And as you slide beneath it,

The candle on the windowsill flickers.

A beacon of protection and hope.

The cat curls up at your feet,

Her rhythmic purring a soothing sound that guides you into the deepest,

Most restful sleep.

And outside,

In the secret garden,

The seeds of hope and purest intentions take root beneath the moonlit sky,

Just waiting for their time to bloom.

And as you wait along with positive intentions,

Your dreamscape reveals these beautiful ideas becoming a reality as you surrender to slumber.

Finding peace.

Finding magic.

Finding hope.

Finding sleep.

It's time to dream away.

Goodnight.

Reviews

Thank you, Michelle🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Talk about enchanting! I LOVE this series. It will take ages before I discover all those stories as I fall asleep in one, wake up in another, and so on, and on, and on…🙏🏻🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🙏🏻

Beautiful work by you. Thanks for sharing your sanctuary story with me. It was very powerful and positive experience 🙏❤️

Had a restless night and this kept me company all night. Thank you for that!

Very soothing and relaxing love the witches cottage x

Love this so much I really enjoyed this long meditation thank you

Michelle, this was amazing! Putting one of my favourite bedtime stories together was amazing! Of course I fell asleep after the first story but slept soundly! Thank you kindly for this wonderful gift of the Witches cottage! Definitely going to replay this! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

Thrilled that my favorite stories are all together like this! Most magical night’s listening ever! Thanks Michelle ✨💖