When you feel depleted of enchantment, walk the wood. It is where magic lives loudly. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982
November 15, 2025 at 9:58 AM
When you feel depleted of enchantment, walk the wood. It is where magic lives loudly. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982
As a witch you can walk the cold curves of the river all morning, see absolutely no other human being, and still have had half-dozen valuable conversations. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
January 25, 2025 at 12:04 PM
As a witch you can walk the cold curves of the river all morning, see absolutely no other human being, and still have had half-dozen valuable conversations. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
For while there is a language of flowers, it is in the meadow that it becomes poetry. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #Flowers
June 7, 2025 at 11:17 AM
For while there is a language of flowers, it is in the meadow that it becomes poetry. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #Flowers
For I am a salt-hag. I know gull gossip. I know the calling and quelling of storms. My hair is wind-braided. My lips wear rough salt kisses. I stand on the cliffs and read omens pulled by the tide. Be well and avoid my anger. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #FolkWitchFriday #WitchSky
October 2, 2026 at 1:26 PM
For I am a salt-hag. I know gull gossip. I know the calling and quelling of storms. My hair is wind-braided. My lips wear rough salt kisses. I stand on the cliffs and read omens pulled by the tide. Be well and avoid my anger. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #FolkWitchFriday #WitchSky
Always wonderful to see the words of #EmilyCBanting in the wild.
April 17, 2025 at 8:29 PM
Always wonderful to see the words of #EmilyCBanting in the wild.
The witch may walk the wood intending to brood, but she will often learn that the wood has other ideas for her. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #Dawn
December 15, 2025 at 8:32 AM
The witch may walk the wood intending to brood, but she will often learn that the wood has other ideas for her. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #Dawn
What does the witch know? She knows where the land whispers, she knows where the land growls. This is a vital comprehension. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
January 22, 2026 at 5:10 PM
What does the witch know? She knows where the land whispers, she knows where the land growls. This is a vital comprehension. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
The threshold is an engine of wonder. The threshold is an engine of wonder. In its walking, in its crossing, the threshold is the witch's line. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
June 6, 2026 at 10:53 AM
The threshold is an engine of wonder. The threshold is an engine of wonder. In its walking, in its crossing, the threshold is the witch's line. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
For a witch, a path may not be important due to its destination, but rather for the quality of spirits she talks to whilst upon it. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
May 20, 2026 at 6:50 PM
For a witch, a path may not be important due to its destination, but rather for the quality of spirits she talks to whilst upon it. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
Witchcraft is not consolatory hokum. It doesn't offer tepid answers to hard questions and even harsher circumstances. It offers us relationships with the land, its spirits and ourselves. Relationships may be rough and require work, but they get us through. – #EmilyCBanting #WitchSky
September 30, 2026 at 10:14 AM
Witchcraft is not consolatory hokum. It doesn't offer tepid answers to hard questions and even harsher circumstances. It offers us relationships with the land, its spirits and ourselves. Relationships may be rough and require work, but they get us through. – #EmilyCBanting #WitchSky
However bare the trees, the wood is never without augury. Moss maps to tomorrow, trunk twist tellings of things to come. Walking the wyrd means the witch is never without omens. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
December 30, 2024 at 11:42 AM
However bare the trees, the wood is never without augury. Moss maps to tomorrow, trunk twist tellings of things to come. Walking the wyrd means the witch is never without omens. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
The witch feels the land's waking. Feels the greening of her soul. Her sorceries grow, her sorceries bloom. A thousand new feral songs swim her blood. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
March 11, 2026 at 7:56 PM
The witch feels the land's waking. Feels the greening of her soul. Her sorceries grow, her sorceries bloom. A thousand new feral songs swim her blood. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
Give me paths marked by Fox Brides. Give me feral magics. Give me navigations from shore to hedge to hill where each stepping is a conversation with the spirits of place. – #EmilyCBanting #FolkWitchFriday
May 15, 2026 at 10:00 AM
Give me paths marked by Fox Brides. Give me feral magics. Give me navigations from shore to hedge to hill where each stepping is a conversation with the spirits of place. – #EmilyCBanting #FolkWitchFriday
My woodland temple wears its bluebell best. My woodland temple sings songs of memory, the persistence of return. Sometimes our role as witches is as witness, as listener to the land telling its truths. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
April 15, 2026 at 9:19 AM
My woodland temple wears its bluebell best. My woodland temple sings songs of memory, the persistence of return. Sometimes our role as witches is as witness, as listener to the land telling its truths. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
#EmilyCBanting obviously. Apologies for the errant pound sign.
May 22, 2025 at 12:55 PM
#EmilyCBanting obviously. Apologies for the errant pound sign.
The witch is the water she walks. Salt-hag on the shore. Curse-cleaner by the brook. Omen-harvester at her reflecting pool. Every nephomantic cloud amplified in its floating. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #FolkWitchFriday
June 19, 2026 at 10:36 AM
The witch is the water she walks. Salt-hag on the shore. Curse-cleaner by the brook. Omen-harvester at her reflecting pool. Every nephomantic cloud amplified in its floating. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #FolkWitchFriday
For even the solitary witch never truly walks alone. She may be rarely seen at those guerrilla covens of extreme need, but she travels with the spirits of the land. Her constant companions are genii locorum – whispering, protecting and teaching as she navigate her way. – #EmilyCBanting #WitchSky
September 30, 2026 at 4:26 PM
For even the solitary witch never truly walks alone. She may be rarely seen at those guerrilla covens of extreme need, but she travels with the spirits of the land. Her constant companions are genii locorum – whispering, protecting and teaching as she navigate her way. – #EmilyCBanting #WitchSky
Give me a nephomantic sky, give me a field edge and I shall show you a surfeit of wild magics. The witch is never less than heavily resourced. - #EmilyCBanting #WitchSky
June 22, 2026 at 3:20 PM
Give me a nephomantic sky, give me a field edge and I shall show you a surfeit of wild magics. The witch is never less than heavily resourced. - #EmilyCBanting #WitchSky
The witch walks the woods for wonder. Walks as listening to the land. She moves towards mystery. Moves towards green communion. Her footsteps are an artefact of magical intent. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
September 10, 2025 at 9:58 AM
The witch walks the woods for wonder. Walks as listening to the land. She moves towards mystery. Moves towards green communion. Her footsteps are an artefact of magical intent. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
The wood is a constant promise to the witch. It whispers of magics, wild harvest and omens to be found on its paths. It never breaks it oaths to her. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
October 8, 2025 at 2:15 PM
The wood is a constant promise to the witch. It whispers of magics, wild harvest and omens to be found on its paths. It never breaks it oaths to her. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
For I am witch. I will dance the storm. I will dance the coming of blessed rain. I will sing as the land sighs and the sky shouts. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
August 19, 2026 at 3:01 PM
For I am witch. I will dance the storm. I will dance the coming of blessed rain. I will sing as the land sighs and the sky shouts. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
Every salt-hag has her place of standing. Rocks upon which she sings to summon the winds. Choired by gull shriek and surf rasp, these are her tide temples. These are her places where waves whisper wonders. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
February 25, 2026 at 6:43 PM
Every salt-hag has her place of standing. Rocks upon which she sings to summon the winds. Choired by gull shriek and surf rasp, these are her tide temples. These are her places where waves whisper wonders. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
My morning in Weychester Physic Garden has given me inspiration for more than witchery. I've the perfect design for my next DIY T-shirt. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982
September 9, 2026 at 10:11 AM
My morning in Weychester Physic Garden has given me inspiration for more than witchery. I've the perfect design for my next DIY T-shirt. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982
Disrobed hawthorn scratches the sky. Ploughed fields shiver. Farm Hobs walk the boundaries. Clouds offer omens of waking. The witch walks and feels the turn of the year. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
February 14, 2025 at 12:35 PM
Disrobed hawthorn scratches the sky. Ploughed fields shiver. Farm Hobs walk the boundaries. Clouds offer omens of waking. The witch walks and feels the turn of the year. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
How like men to call it mother glass or nipple glass and then still believe it to have witch-warding properties. - #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
June 25, 2025 at 12:30 PM
How like men to call it mother glass or nipple glass and then still believe it to have witch-warding properties. - #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky