Hey, y'all--sorry I'm a day late. I did go forth with the DV awareness event, it was incredible, I was triggered by my own event (ironic, that) but am still so happy that I did the work. Maybe someone out there will be more aware now . . .

Either way, late yesterday was a rain shower, and it was the only time that I had to record. So, we begin with rain hammering around my voice and it comes back, briefly. My apologies if it makes it hard to hear.

But snuggle up. This is a longer one and something I've been working with for a while. If we understand that land needs reparations, healing, and recovery after injury: how are we doing that magical work for ourselves?

Love y'all like chicken, and thanks for understanding about my belated post. xoxo, Seba

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So, y'all: this one's long, almost double what I usually record and edit. But it was important. Last week, we talked about Cailleach handing over the reins to Brigid--and it's pertinent to this episode.

I know you're tired. I know it's too much. But Brigid, spring, and the trees have our backs. Even if it's only a scream into the dark, or a big F-YOU to the ice that has frozen everything we loved about humanity, it counts. It's hard to believe, I get it.

But the flowers are almost here. And we have to push up with them, somehow. Some way.

It's what Witches do, hon.

Love y'all like chicken,
Seba

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Well, Batchildren. It's been a long ride, but here we are: episode 199. Holy crap. How did that happen? I remember when we started, all those years ago, when I had no idea why it would matter yet.

We were all young and naive together. And it totally mattered.

But here we are now, in the dead of winter, on a pivotal, magical evening: the night that Cailleach gives way to Brigid. Blessed Imbolc to all of you. Don't forget the oats for Brigid's cow, or your shawls and blessed beds, but while you are out there: don't forget her momma. Cailleach has cared for us all in this dark time, but more: she has shed blood for us.

Love y'all like chicken, stay warm, Seba

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Y’all, this one was recorded as ice and freezing storms threatened my homestead. At the same time, other “icy” forces were raiding (and still do) in monstrous ways. As a Gen-X Witch, I was taught long ago what to do in cases such as these.

Snuggle up on the porch and let me tell you a story (or three) about the magical effect of laughter upon a monster.

Love y’all like chicken, Seba

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It's been a while, my loves, since I've done this level of work. I needed time, healing, and a space to breathe. You know, it's hard to determine the exact moment that will be safe enough to put weight on a previously broken bone, but I've done just that.

And it held me. Welcome to the Year of the Horse. Let's ride, Batchildren.

Love y'all like chicken,
Seba

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I've thought on this one a while, Batchildren. When, how, and how loud do we stand for what is right? What does it mean for our Craft when we choose Sweden?

Please snuggle with me on the porch for this one--I want your feedback.

Love y'all like chicken, Seba

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I don't fully have my voice back, but I had something to say. Sometimes, we are very slow on the draw to cull our gardens--for reasons of love, familiarity, or even fear. But it's part of a very Witchy life, Batchildren. So, brave up, grab your spade, and do the work.

Love y'all like chicken, Seba

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If you usually take your time listening to these episodes: shake things up and listen right now. It's almost over, and if you need a kairos moment, shake the dust off and click play.

Love y'all like chicken! Seba

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Hey y'all, I've been thinking about bones, the ones we work with, the ones we keep, and how that relates to Craft.

The caretakers of these matter more than we think.

Love y'all like chicken,
Seba

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Winter is hard on this old country Witch, but it's a perfect time to put up a baneful box. When in an emergency, I don't always have time to source everything I need. That's where my emergency "kit" comes in fine and dandy. And in the dark nights? Why, that's the perfect time to prepare.

Hang in there, Batchildren. We've got this. Winter has no choice but to be here, and eventually, will have no recourse but to leave.

Love y'all like chicken, Seba

To support this podcast and get access to exclusive content, go to: https://www.patreon.com/southernfriedwitch

Beltane cupcakes!

What’s a kitchen witch to do when her favorite pickled ginger is not in stock? You know the answer. Here’s my version of pickled ginger, made special with a bit of dried hibiscus flowers from the garden.

Winter nights are rough, y’all.  I’m a spring baby and ridiculously seasonal, meaning I may seem fine, but deep down inside I’m sobbing in my pillow like a child.  My grandma was like this, too—just cannot seem to get right in the colder months. 

Okay, y’all. Sometimes we are just flat out worn down by the world and don’t have the time to make EVERYTHING from scratch. So here you are, beaten by work and chilled to the bone and hungry as hell. Well. If you have frozen ravioli, cheese, and some sort of pasta sauce: you’ve got this.

Y’all, it has taken me 53 years to make pepper jelly. I’ve made almost every other kind under the sun, but the omission of this one has almost lost my Southern card for me. That’s alright: better late than never.

For about three years, I was under a cornbread curse. Yup. I couldn’t remember the ratios of the recipe, more than anything, but also tried to use an off-brand flour and baking powder. No matter what I did, the cornbread (while okay) was not the one that made me swoon.