Alight

At nightfall on the eve of Imbolc or Candlemas, there was silence and darkness, then the old handcrafted chandelier with its pressed flowers, weeds and milk glass shining down on the oak table, through the windows and out into the street. Then candles were lighted, one, two, three, and another and another...

The house was filled with the scent of honey beeswax, with soft golden glow and warmth, with the feeling that something magical, peaceful and utterly timeless was taking place.

Sometimes, just sometimes, the best magics are the simple ones. Earthy, natural and rooted are they, but dazzling in their shape and color and clarity and perfume.