Tuatha de Danaan

Grandma's Paintings

Wed, 10 Feb 2010 04:02:00 -0500

Tuatha de Danaan, A Seasonal Publication

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 18:00:00 -0400

Tuatha de Danaan

A Seasonal Publication

Winter Premier Issue out after Thanksgiving

These brochures will be available Free to my Patrons. They will come along, signed, with a personal Thank You with All original purchases. If You purchase something in the Dolls & Magic Cafe Press Shoppe any time after Thanksgiving, contact me through my contact page here, along with your address, & I'll send one along...

What to expect? Tuatha de Danaan is an eight page pamphlet, printed on parchment, with full color seasonal artwork, faeries, poetry, quotes from my books, recipes, inspirations from The Shadows, Tarot, Magic, and...You never know. I know a lot of fun & my gift to You. Thank You.

Ghosts XIX

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 23:29:00 -0400

Point Pleasant

There are more than a couple of reasons why I have been putting off writing down this particular experience. First, I'm not sure whether to call it a ghost story or not, that is, I have no proof, not even for myself, which I consider important; because, believe it or not, I may be a scientist by nature, a naturalist, or what have You... So, we will have to refer to my intuition. Not that I knock it, I probably have more faith in it than anything else these days, but You cannot prove intuition, not really, not scientifically anyways. Secondly, this tale is hardly a welcome poster to come to Point Pleasant. I'll never go back. Ron just said today, "Let's go back to Point Pleasant", while he was looking at my cool Moth Man magnet hanging on the fridge. He must be joking. I don't advertise myself as a medium or anything, You know... I do, however, realize that I have some gifts or sensitive peculiarities at this point, maybe I've always known about. But, at any rate, You cannot take this story as The Gospel Truth. I don't. I can't bring myself to, anymore than I could venture back to Point Pleasant. The irony of it is somewhat astounding.

I also can't say that I'm sorry that I went. It was an experience, afterall. When we first arrived, I just wanted a cup of coffee. Well, let me tell You...Good Luck with that. The place is eerie...a real ghost town. It just gives the appearance that it is actually inhabited. Upon closer observation, You will see that nearly all the shops and restaurants are closed. Ask somebody...Ask them anything...You will get a glazed look and a grunt...Except for the guy in The Moth Man shop, he does speak English. We stayed at the historic Lowe Hotel, a grand old establishment with a balcony dining room, gilded moldings, an old organ, and an extraordinary green tiled fireplace in the lobby. We had an entire wing, overlooking the river, with, what should have been a lovely view, complete with sitting room, guest room, and adjoining hallway. I'm peculiar, but the place was very dirty. Ron was getting angry with me, but he had to admit how filthy it was when I discovered dirty towels in the bathroom. I tried being nice, as he loves West Virginia, and said, "It's probably the nicest hotel in the state." Once again, he had to agree. But, this story is not about insults; it's actually, just the facts, or how I saw it, for what it's worth.

We both liked the Moth Man film, and my Best Friend had read the book and loved it too. My Other Best Friend wants to actually visit Point Pleasant in the worst way. After I had that wyrd experience with the voice in the drain, I was fascinated enough with The Moth Man to make him my Death card in my Tarot. I did not see The Moth Man, but I will say that I wouldn't doubt it, not after a trip to Point Pleasant. Just being there made me a believer. The place has the worst feeling about it that I've never encountered like that before. I have been to Gettysburg countless times, many other battlefields, but none of them had this feel like Point Pleasant.

I will call it a vibe, a disorienting feeling of pure badness. That sounds awfully childlike, but that is the best way that I can describe what I felt. Sheer negative power and influence. After checking into the hotel, we walked around the town, which took about a minute. There is an old Confederate General's house. We know things did not go so well with him. I learned some things, like I knew that there were some Indian wars about the area, in the woods, I believed; but I didn't know The Revolutionary War began there and The Civil War was fought there too. Now, I can say that I'm not surprised. As we were walking towards the point, the place where two rivers meet, where the bridge collapsed, where The Natives buried their dead and believed that spirits abided, I was getting cranky. An old log cabin resides at the point. While there, Ron, went right into the cabin, but for some strange reason at first, I couldn't do it. I sat down outside. I saw, in my mind's eye, someone who I knew was not there. An Indian, a Native, his hair was pulled back with some braids and two feathers, a red and a white. He wore buckskin, a vest and pants, and had a type of wrap, red, and some other colors, around his shoulders. He was talking to me. His lips were not moving, but I could hear him in my head. He told me his name, which I did not understand. He began to tell me such things as I'm not sure that it's even legal to put into writing, another reason I've put off the telling. Basically, he wanted me to set fire to everything. That is putting it mildly. He was very angry. There was a fierce wind that blew right through me all during this brief encounter. There is a monument there, alongside the cabin, an obelisk. He told me not to read it, to forget, forget it all and knock it down. My eyes began to well with tears, then a searing sensation tore through my intestines. Ron came out of the house and coaxed me in, he was getting very angry and angrier by the minute; he thought, with me, but I knew it was the negative influence of the place affecting different folks differently. Inside the house there hung a beautiful seed mosaic, huge, very detailed, something like two-hundred years old. It was lovely, but I had to get back to the hotel, I was very sick.

Back at the hotel I threw up five times then passed out, only to awaken to what felt like a hangover, only I hadn't had a drink. I did, however, have a dream, totally unrelated to The Indian, I believe: a woman, in a gray, circa early twentieth century type of gown with corset. I think she is somehow related to the hotel, maybe even that particular room. She had brown upswept hair and was very pretty. I painted her, Mrs. Gray, I call her, if You are interested. Then I got up, alone, and haunted the hotel, myself, that night, in search of a cup of coffee that I never did find. I bet that's all that most ghosts want or are looking for anyways...a freaking cup of coffee...Point Pleasanters have not heard about Starbucks. Whether that is good or bad, is, once again, besides the point. I went outside for a smoke. The place was dead to the world, more quiet than the countryside, so quiet, that, itself, was scary. I couldn't even hear any bugs or nightbirds. Then, the strangest sight startled me for a moment, a huge gray Manx cat, who is a rare enough find, himself, strutted down the street, alone, totally mindless of me, as if I did not exist, and he owned the place. I think he does. Then I heard a cough, a carny, setting up for Fourth of July, scurried from his tent, that sent me back to our sitting room with the creepy view over the dark rivers. I painted Pleasantry, trying to cheer myself.

The following morning, (I did, survive, as the hotel does provide coffee, Thank God, in the morning), we went to The Moth Man Museum, which is worth the trip, as long as You don't try to spend the night. We also walked down along the rivers. Artists are working on an exspansive mural there, and I could not help but notice how like the Indian I saw were the figures there. I think The Moth Man has probably flown away by now, along with everything else from Point Pleasant, but I wouldn't be surprised if You hear about him coming back either.

Wands

Sat, 16 May 2009 15:18:00 -0400

Cups

Thu, 14 May 2009 16:52:00 -0400

Swords

Fri, 08 May 2009 13:21:00 -0400

Pentacles

Sat, 02 May 2009 15:21:00 -0400

Ghosts XVIII

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 02:12:00 -0400

Second hand Ghosts, Part IV

This will have to be my last ghost story until I hear another good one. This one is equally interesting and creepy. I believe it happened about six years ago, I met a paratrooper in a bar in The South Side of Pittsburgh; it was Mardi Gras, and he was leaving for The Middle East, or some place. I never saw him again, and cannot even remember his name, for it was just a chance encounter; but for some strange reason, even unknown to himself, he told me a story that I will never forget.

A couple of years earlier, his twin brother died. There was a party at their house, everybody was drunk. They had a sort of loft, overhanging the family room, his brother was sitting there, when he fell to his death, breaking his neck. He then told me that he not only saw his brother, that he not only looked to be very solid, alive, and real, but that he talked to him as well. He had no idea that he was dead. After he explained to his twin how he had fallen and died, he never saw him again, no sense, gone without a trace.

He then went on to tell me that he never told anybody and that he had no idea why he was telling me now. I think it makes for a good ghost story. You hear about ghosts that stick around because they do not know that they are dead, but this is the only one that I have ever heard about first hand. Of course, it may very well have been due to the fact that they were twins, and twins have a stronger connection than the rest of us.

Ghosts XVII

Thu, 23 Apr 2009 07:32:00 -0400

Second hand Ghosts Part III

This chapter, (and in case You haven't noticed, I'm on a roll...), will begin with a slight ammendment to the previous, that is, ghosts and the telephone. I had already mentioned how the childrens' ghosts used to play on the students' telephones and answering machines in the dormitory of that school where I worked. Yes, it was for the government, no I can't mention the name or location, which doesn't matter as You'd never get past security there anyways. They'd never invite the ghost hunters. If You are new to my ghost stories, that school was an old tuberculosis sanitarium. I had to go through some digging to prove my suspicions about that too. They don't like it when students run away in the middle of the night there. They didn't like it when I scared them either. But, I stray...I do have one other second hand ghost story involving a dear friend of mine from Erie. When her father died he called them on the phone as promised, only when her Mother answered, nobody was there; but, they knew it was him. He had fulfilled a Houdini type of pact with them, proving that the spirit lives. I should also mention that this friend of mine is very psychic. She is the one that shared my nightmare the morning of September 11th too, so it is possible that her Father had some special talents. He has also been known to haunt the psychics at Lily Dale too. So, the telephone is a sort of tool that some ghosts use to keep in touch. I, myself, have never had any supernatural fun with the phone, besides knowing who is calling and those middle of the night ones when somebody has died, but that's quite natural, I presume. But, I do find an interesting correlation between the passing of The Irish Banshee with the invention of the telephone. I guess I'm a Banshee, because I despise the thing; so don't worry, I won't call You when I'm dead.

The telephonic prequil actually works well with the next story about Irish immigrants, another Father of another Irish friend of mine, the lady that I student taught with. I'm sure they'd all like for You to know their story. Her parents immigrated here from Ireland in the thirties, along with their best friend, just as my Great-Grandmothers had done. The Father, he got up early every morning and made breakfast for the entire family; but breakfast always came with a song and dance, because they could all hear him down there, (must be an Irish thing). Exactly a week before he died, he told his wife that when he woke up that morning their best friend, that came over with them, who was already dead, was sitting, smiling, casually, at the foot of the bed, looking as alive as ever. His wife was worried about his story, and took it as an omen; she wasn't surprised when they heard him hit the floor making breakfast the following week. He went out singing and dancing. Then, his wife, was too visited by her husband and their friend, both, again, sitting at the foot of the bed. It was not long after that she too died, a matter of months. They all came over and left together. The Mother had confided the visit to my friend, her daughter, before passing. So, like mother, like daughter, she knew it wouldn't be long. My friend is a good Irish story teller, and I could tell that she reached into her heart to share it. It's an emerald as far as ghost stories go, I think.

Ghosts XVI

Wed, 22 Apr 2009 04:14:00 -0400

Second hand Ghosts Part II:

These second hand ghost stories have been passed on to me by trusted sources. They are not the only second hand stories that I've heard, only the ones that I believe.

Having said that, this next one is creepy. This happened in the early nineties to my old boyfriend's friend. This is how my old boyfriend told it; he was not liable to make up nonsense, and he didn't spread the story around.

He was friends with these two best friends since high-school. They were out one night, and the two others dropped him off. For sake of ease I will refer to the three as Tom, Dick, and Harry, Tom being my old boyfriend, then. Dick then took Harry home. Only Harry's Mother did not know that he again snuck out late after hours to drink with Dick. The boys were just out of school and still underage.

When the police awoke Harry's Mother then at four in the morning to tell her that her son and Dick had been in an accident, and that Harry had been killed, she didn't believe them. She told them he was asleep in his bed, but he wasn't.

Dick survived. Harry was dead. That summer Dick worked double overtime at Kennywood in the heat of the sun to pay for college, and also to take his mind off the fact that he had killed his best friend. It was late August, and he had just started college. He came home one night to his dorm room, exhausted, and passed out in bed, but the phone kept ringing; he could hear it in his sleep. He was thinking this wyrd, as he didn't yet have a phone in his room, then, remembered the one in the hall of the dormitory. It was still ringing, only he was still asleep. Then, Dick had a dream. He dreamt that he got out of his bed, unlocked the door, and went down the hall to answer the insistent telephone. Only when he answered, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his blood ran cold. It was Harry. He knew the voice. Harry whispered, "Wake up, Dick, you're dead."

If that isn't scary enough, Dick did try to wake from the dream, only he couldn't. He went into some catatonic state of shock and fear brought on by working seventy-some hours a week in the August heat, exhaustion and guilt. He lay in a comatose state for several days before waking, and the doctors said that if he wouldn't have been awakened, that he very well would have died.

I still get the shakes and shivers telling this story from so long ago. It seems that Harry held no grudge against Dick in death, and in fact, is watching over him.

The Taties

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 21:03:00 -0400

Illustrations for my unpublished childrens' book that I'm still sending around.

The Royal House

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:57:00 -0400

What the hell is this?

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 16:40:00 -0400

What is up on the balcony there? Does anybody know? Is there a wyrd statue that I can't remember being there? I've searched online, but I don't know. I took this photo somewhere in the historic part of Savannah, on the corner, east of a square, only I can't remember which one. I just remember thinking this is my favorite house in Savannah, that's why I took a picture. I was looking it over; I think I might remember a statue on the balcony if there was one. It looks wyrd too, as if it were in mourning or something, head down, hands over the face. I don't know. Somebody out there may really be laughing at me to be sure, but I only just noticed this. I took this picture last week. I want to know.

Update: lol! YES...It is a wyrd statue! Ron didn't remember it either, but we had seen a lot of statues that day. After searching I found three pictures without the statue, I think it might have been added sometime after Christmas. Sorry for the hysterics, but zooming, I thought it must be a statue, by the base, but it looked so strange, and it's hair looks real. HaHa! I wonder if they just put it there to scare off nosey Yankees from taking pictures of their beautiful house!

Ghosts XV

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 07:49:00 -0400

I must admit that I've been putting off recording the latest happenings, since moving again, to this house, out in the middle of nowhere, as I see things. I don't know. Sometimes, I think, I have to distance myself from the strange happenings before documentation. But, I've been thinking, that these things become known to me for a reason, for reasons of their own, I suppose they probably want to be shared. I'm a very private person about personal matters, however, only sharing certain things with the certain few that I know probably won't consider me batshit crazy.

First, I start this wyrd collective chapter with a note concerning all the ghost hunting craze out there. I laugh at the ghost hunters that call themselves skeptics. What a joke. They only believe themselves, so why should I believe them? I am a believer in psychics, of course I am. I think we All house our own unique gifts and abilities. The ghost hunters that present themselves as helping people, not just as honestly morbid and curious, I laugh at them too, unless they call a priest. I believe in priests too, even if they would not have me. It is, afterall, an old Irish belief, that priests are blessed with the gift of second sight. Anyways, I love watching and reading all the ghost stuff still, even if it usually makes me laugh a lot more than it scares me. The ghost hunters that laugh at the ones that run and scream...I say they probably have never encountered a ghost, because that is the only natural instinct or reaction, unless, you actually knew the ghost in life. Usually they are scary. So scary that you scream at them and unintentionally, scare them away. But, that's just what I think.

So, my first never recorded ghost story involves somebody from my past. I never want to talk about her, but I Loved her very much, she was very kind. Right after she passed, I saw her running past the house, the old, haunted house. She waved at me and said, "Tell Paul I can run now." I knew I was seeing her in my mind's eye, as if she was sending a messsage that she knew I could relay. I was not shocked or scared at all. It was a wyrd comfort, and I smiled. I told him what she had said. He warned me not to go repeating my nonsense or else I'd be committed; but, then, they insisted, against my belief, that I should too be present when they went over the funeral arrangements. I had to tell her daughter what I saw. This Lady had bad legs and could hardly walk let alone run. She was so comforted by what I told her, because, she said she had been obsessed with her Mother having on her tennis shoes for some reason, but didn't know why. I don't know if I can call this a ghost story, because, I saw her through my mind's eye, that is, knowing, in truth, that she really wasn't there, but, in retrospect, with the message, I think she really was. Another wyrd thing about her is that just before she died, she started calling me at odd hours out of nowhere about nothing at all really. I just add this as strange, because, she had never done this before.

On to modern times, as that all happened some years past. This house, I have not wanted to talk about it at all. I live here now, so it is hard to relate what has happened, but I think I have chased several ghosts away. I don't care. I'm only one girl, and I cannot tolerate being bossed around by All of these Italians. Sorry. But, I will say, that the man that built it, as well as his son, have made their presence known at times, but for the most part don't come around much since we have settled. But, some other wyrd things have happened too. I think some of it may be ghostly, but entirely unrelated, so I'll start there.

There are some Really Old houses surrounding this house, so I believe this strange stuff has to be somehow related to them, or, perhaps, some little cabin that was once around here. There were also a lot of Natives around this area, so who can tell? Anyways, this stuff started when we were painting the house, and part of the reason that I didn't even want to come here. First, lots and lots of noises. Sounds like somebody is totally ransacking some area upstairs. I say it's the squirrells and groundhogs and call it a day, but there's more to it than that. I am walking from the bathroom, through the den, which is just below ground level, and seems to hold some cave-like stench at times, when I feel a strange fizzle of electricity, smell that stench, and nearly walked through which I could only describe as a charred child. It was burnt black as cole, probably about four feet tall, I don't know, seven years old? I felt sick. I told Ron about it. He had seen it too. He said it was black, but who could tell, as it was burnt. I have never seen it again, but sometimes with that stench I wonder what it was. A victim of a fire or something? Could even just be a demon, but I don't think so. I probably will never know, but to be honest, the house behind looks like a Colonial Governor's Mansion, so who knows what may have been here before. The house across the street must pre-date that one by a century.

I think I've seen the demons here too. That's what I think they are. They know it if I talk about them, but I don't care anymore. This time they looked like that old Predator movie, they were so camoflauged in their movement. I say they, but this was only one, I think, the size of a tall man. Might not have even been a demon, but I think it was. This was last year, I think, December.

Another strange thing happened here then. It is so bizarre that I never even wanted to talk about it, but it did happen, so. I actually told Chip Coffey about it, it intrigued me. I can tell You, I was scared at the time though, because I was in the bathroom by the den when a voice came out of the drain and said, "What are you doing?" I got so scared that I didn't move for over an hour, just sat there. I know I heard it. It was like three in the morning. After I heard that, I actually looked out to check the house next door, to see if any lights were on. There weren't. As if a voice could travel from next door up the bathroom drain, anyways! I thought, how ridiculous, but it gets stranger, because the very next night I watched that Mothman movie for the first time...Scared? Yeah! Scary! That Mothman talked to the one guy from the bathroom drain! So, I made my Death Tarot The Mothman after that.

But, it got, stranger, fast forward last summer now. I think this goes back further than the Natives, and I've hardly told anybody about it, as they will All think me mad. But, it happened, so I Really have to tell it. For future notice, so You know, I will freely discuss the ghosts, as I think they rather crave the attention, obviously, themselves...even the demons...I mention. But, I never discuss The Little People, as they hate it, and I Must leave it at that. Even whispers to family about them...no. And, don't consider my art stuffs some accurate portrayal... over-active imagination is all. But, not this:

I was walking Shiner around twilight when what I can only describe as a saber-toothed lion sort of beast jumped over the boulder next door and nearly knocked us both down. Shiner actually wrapped himself up around a pole, by his leash, so dizzied he was by this shocking thing. There I was, just staring at the dog, noting that he had seen it too! Well, it gets wyrder, but first, let me describe the thing to You. It was bigger than a pit-bull, but smaller than a cougar. It was somewhat transparent, and it soared off of the ground, so that you knew at first glance that it wasn't alive, but it had a tawny gleaming coat and rippling muscles. It's head was too large for it's body, much bigger than a pit-bull, and it had enormous sabered fangs. It's hind legs were huge and strong, more like a jack-rabbit, and it had long claws, probably two inches long. It's paws were big, way bigger than a big dog. The thing about it that was unforgettable were its huge flaming eyes, golden yellow, orange. I was pretty excited and shaken, so was Shiner. I didn't really want to tell anybody, but was thinking about some of the other odd things that had happened in the back yard, like berry bushes uprooted, vanished, overnight, as if they had never even been there, the ground, still firmly packed tight, untouched...Now, the huge mash downs and screams I hear I attribute to the deer, having fauns and all...Anyways, after I got back, as my parents were visiting for the weekend, my Mother was the one that brought it up, said they saw something wyrd in the car with glowing eyes, too big to be a deer. They tried to track it, but it seemed to disappear...She asked ME if I knew what it was! So, I told them. One other funny thing about this entire incident is that I had done some ink drawings for Oberon Zell-Ravenheart's A Wizard's Bestiary, so happened to have a copy and decided to look up Native American feline beasties. They did, indeed, talk of these cats. Really, I think what I saw was some ghost cat. I've seen and heard, experienced lots of ghosts cats before. Only this one was by far the Biggest. There were ghost cats in my houses in Sinking Spring and Oakland. Nearly every family member has now seen Lou too, the dead family cat. I think some evolutionary unknown cat lays buried somewhere here beneath the rock. I'm sure You think I'm crazy, but when some new unknown strain of saber-toothed cat turns up... Or, it could just be the demons.

Gettysburg Ghost

Sat, 04 Apr 2009 12:24:00 -0400

I took this photo my second time visiting Gettysburg. I was alone. I had just got there, had one of those little IZONE cameras, which were new at that time. Just pulled off the road, anywhere, tired, took my little camera out of the packet & decided to try it. Nobody was around. At that time, I didn't have the slightest idea that this was actually General Meade's headquarters, shelled, during the war. It has been mended. When I took the picture, because, you get the pictures instantly, and they are tiny, of course, I noticed the figure in blue there. I thought it was wyrd, because, like I've said, nobody was there when I took the picture. In fact, it was way off season at the time, and nobody was around at all. That's why I didn't even know that it was any place special till later. I've kept this photo all these years, meaning to scan it for a better look. Being the first picture ever even taken with this camera, originally, I thought it may be a smear or something, but none of the other pictures that I took with it had any other sorts of abnormalities. You can think what you like, but I think it's a ghost, and a Yankee at that. I've seen them looking solid like this in The Wilderness, but like I've said, I did not see this fellow when I took this picture. I think he must want to be seen, so here he is. He looks like he has something in his hand. You can't mistake him, right along the fence. This is not a real person. He was not really there. Well, I guess, he's always there now.

Tarot: The Major Arcana

Wed, 04 Mar 2009 06:56:00 -0500

Dark Shadows

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 07:51:38 -0400

My name is Victoria Winters is the first in a series of Dark Shadows cards I've just begun. They are 2 1/2 x 3 inch watercolors based on Dan Curtis's cult classic television show that ran from 1966-1971. My Mum watched them while I was in the womb. The second to the last show aired the day that I was born. I figured it fitting to start with Victoria, on the train to Collinwood Manor. Afterall, it does begin as her story, with the search for her identity. Like the show, I will keep You in suspense. You will have to wait for Barnabas, but I will tell that Collinwood, the estate itself, will be the number two card. Sometimes I wish that I worked in black and white, like now; but I've been watercoloring since I could write my name, and You can't teach an old cat new tricks. I have many surprises in mind with the cards, so the originals will not be available till sometime after Christmas. They will only be twenty dollars a piece, including postage, because they are a labor of love and obsession and don't take much time at all. Their titles are written on the back. Prints, on the otherhand, should be available on cardstock sometime closer to Halloween. They will be four dollars each, and a discount will be applied if You order more than two. Check in to the Magic portion of my Art Gallery if You want to see. Also, check in to the Dolls & Magic Shoppe in the future to see them on other things, like magnets, keychains, buttons...As You can probably well imagine, there are already a number of Dark Shadows little dolls...Angelique, Josette's Ghost...dancing 'round my head. A little side note on The Taties, if You have been wondering too...It is at a publisher, but I haven't heard back, as usual. I did plan on publishing it myself, but I tend to go on, and it became too much for me. I'll keep trying. I do not work for the publishers anyways. I work out of sheer love and whatnot.

Early Harvest

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 15:31:58 -0400

Really proud of my Jack Be'Little pumpkins & Moonlight gourds this year, because I planted them from seed...the Nasturtium too. I would have a lot more, only Shiner dug up the ones planted around The Little Witches House.

Invasion of the Mushrooms!

Wed, 10 Sep 2008 21:57:54 -0400

Typically I reserve this blog for my art & writing, but this is so strange not to document. Strange mushrooms of all sorts...shapes & varieties...are taking over the neighborhood. I am not kidding. If you are at all interested in seeing the many many many photos I have taken over the past month, you can do so on my Yahoo! blog. There is a link in the About Me section here. I will also put them on myspace & will make a video of them on You Tube too. I Love mushrooms & am quite charmed & surprised at this wyrd invasion. I've never seen anything quite like it. I have seen eight different varieties within an eighth of a mile. That's wyrd in itself, but there are also Enormous clustered specimen, as well as big strange scary looking ones too. One kind, I believe it to be a sorel of some kind...looks like a little brain or anemone...will not be duplicated online. I have several pictures of them; they are on my camera, but for some unknown reason, I can't get them on to the computer. When I was little, I found fossils of sea shell on a farm, here, in Pennsylvania, only the southern part of the state. Some of these mushrooms look positively sea like. I find that All very interesting...amost Darwinian...All that.*

Tarot

Wed, 14 May 2008 15:23:50 -0400

Strength, The Empress, Back Card, The Star, The Moon, The Sun