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Autumn has arrived. The oppressive, stifling heat that was a constant, sticky companion through June, July, and August has finally abated. Windows are thrown open and welcome in crisp air that sends a chill to your bones in the morning, and lingers like a haunting presence in golden afternoons. It is the time of year to unearth bones and skeletons beneath the decaying leaves, and as you walk through the woods, the trees whisper that it's time to be yourself again: time to step away from the melancholy that summer brings, and step into authenticity, ferocity and all of you weird.
A coyote frequented our house over the summer, trotting along the edges: a flash of a gray-russet bushy tail outside our window at dusk or lanky legs loping outside our basement window wells. Its parting gift was the deer skull, left, (I like to think) as an offering from the woods to the Bone Witch, a thanks for letting the hedges grow wild under moonlight and leaving the animals dwelling the woods in peace. The deer skull is home to many creepy crawlies, each doing their work to leave only the bone behind. From this gift, the idea of"The Wolf and the Weaver” was born.
The wolf, a pack animal, is often first conjured in the imagination as the lone wolf. Relatable, as we often grapple with our nature and desire to be a hermit, but to also honor the call of community and coven. As a homage to my coyote friend’s gift and my namesake of the Bone Witch, I opted to paint for a skull instead of the animal itself - partially for my own joy (I delight in the creepy), but also because the skull felt like a perfect metaphor for the fall - a symbol of death and decay, but also that which feeds the soil of new life in our never ending cycle.
The wolf itself has a long history in myth and folklore as a wise spirit guide, understanding the balance of fostering connection through deep communal and familial bonds, but also the importance of wildness, freedom, and an independent spirit. The wolf offers strength and courage right alongside a little savagery, and reminds us of the importance of a community that is supportive, but that allows you to embrace your wild and all of the feral bits of yourself. The wolf strikes the balance of feral hermit and cozy community.
The Orb Weaver is a symbol of resilience and perseverance, rebuilding her web each time it breaks, without fail. She is a symbol of fall, too, for though she is at then end of her life-cycle (she’ll be gone by the first frost) she leaves behind her spider eggs in her beautiful web, feeding the next cycle of creation. She is constantly tending, fortifying, and shoring up her web, much as we must do for our bodies and homes as the days turn short and the nights turn long.
Orb Weavers are also known as writing spiders, as their beautiful circular web is stabilized by a thick zig-zag ladder in the center, known as a ‘stabilimentum.’ It is easy to trick your eye into seeing names or phrases woven there by these weavers - the Orb Weaver can be a powerful ally in the shadowy side of magic. In Appalachian folklore, it is said that if you destroy a web and see your name written there the next morning, it is an ill-omen: death or bad luck is soon to follow. See what you’d like in her web, but though the spider herself is a solitary creature, the ‘web’ has become one of our most powerful symbols of community and interconnectedness.
Of course, this painting has another meaning.
As the season changes and harvesting ends, we all start to turn inward and shore up our minds and bodies and homes as the weather shifts and the dark half of the year approaches.
A house is a living spirit, a powerful entity that requires tending and care. Get to know your home, listen to what craves as you cleanse and move over its thresholds. Your home is your nest, but it is also an extension of yourself, of your spirit and practice.
Your home is your armor, in its foundations is a manifestation of your ferocity and strength. This fall, decorate it with skulls and bones and spiders. Light a bonfire under a full moon. Set your wards and draw your boundaries. Turn inward to your fiery hearth so that you can gather your strength for whatever lies ahead.
Feed your home and you will nourish yourself, your practice and your power. Your house has teeth.
Stay feral - xx -Lauren Rose, the Bone Witch (@scorpius_sub_flore)
