Just Scrying Around

(The image is a painting by John William Waterhouse "The Crystal Ball.")

Appalachian  witches (aka granny women) practiced divination  or scrying  by reading tea leaves, cards, and clouds. They might also make use of bowls of dirt or water.

They wouldn't call it scrying, however, according to my friend Byron, a hereditary Appalachian witch (as well as a Wiccan.) They might say 'taking a look' or 'getting a knowing.'

There's an Appalachian witch in Under the Skin --my work in progress.  Her name is Amarantha and she lives in Hot Springs, NC, back in 1887. She has a special little pool in the woods that she uses  for her 'seeing' but she can also use whatever's handy. Here it's a bowl of sweet oil.

I went back and set myself at the little table with my elbows on either side of the bowl and my face resting in my hands where I could peer into the  sweet oil. 

Used to be, it took a long time for the pictures to come. I would wait and the least little thing would pull my mind away -- a fly buzzing, a worrisome thought -- but now it seems as if I can go to that place between the worlds in no more than a few heartbeats' time.

I let my eyes go foggy, looking without trying to see, as you might say. At first, there was just the rainbow shimmer on the surface of the oil then, as my breath hit it, lines and patterns grew, one inside another, and the pictures begun to come. 

~*~*~*~*~

The Burn Doctor

In my work in progress -- Under the Skin-- there's a scene with a 'witchy woman' back in 1887 healing a burn. I needed information on Appalachian folk medicine and Cavender's book is packed with it.

The book gives the following charm: "There came an angel from the east, bringing fire and frost. In frost, out fire. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."





I also checked with my friend Byron, a hereditary Appalachian witch, who gave me the charm she uses. Come three angels from the North, take both fire and frost.

I used Byron's shorter version in the scene I wrote. But what I found really interesting was this post from England clearly pointing to a pagan origin for the charm -- before it was 'sanitized' by the invocation of the Trinity. (You'll have to scroll through a bunch of interesting stuff about blackberries before you get to the charm.)

One English version is Three ladies came from the east. One with fire and two with frost. Out with fire, in with frost. The three ladies are said to be an invocation to Brigit, the Celtic goddess.

You can find these survivals in every culture -- where an older religion is supplanted by a newer -- but the deities of the old religion are transformed into devils or angels or saints -- there is a St. Brigit, isn't there?

Evening Roses

Yesterday was spent completely immersed in the next book -- John was away and, aside from letting the chickens out, filling bird feeders, feeding dogs and cats, scrounging meals of leftovers, and closing the chickens up again (at which time I took these pictures), I didn't get far from my laptop.

It's good to be able to get myself so deep in the story that the characters take over and start telling it. And that's where I was all the day.

As always with a series book, I have the wretched task of getting in all the back story -- who are these people and what do they look like and where did they come from -- so that readers new to the series won't be lost. But I don't want to bore those of you who know Elizabeth and her family as well as if they were next door neighbors.

Enter Gloria. It's a lot of fun to describe Elizabeth through Gloria's eyes. I remember when I first did that sort of thing in Art's Blood -- letting the patrician Lily Gordon describe her visit to Elizabeth's home -- how liberating it felt to see things through different eyes.

Onward and upward -- or rather backward. I'm moving into a chapter from 1887 and am going to delve into the life of Amarantha, a chambermaid at the Mountain Park Hotel . . .and an Appalachian witch!