(Twitter, my shiny new tech toy, is down at the moment; it is to laugh! So I’ll just post here about today’s adventure.)

I have two mojo bags almost assembled and ready to go, except they need graveyard dirt; this person needs strong protection, and there’s no stronger spiritual protection than a spirit who has passed on. So I went to the graveyard, to where the military graves are. Plain white stones with clear black lettering, so that no matter how old the grave is, the stone is absolutely legible. As I stood at the foot of that section – sort of like reviewing the troops, I thought – I saw several promising names: FARMER, RICH, BULLIVANT (for protective work, maybe?). And I was about to introduce myself to Mr. Bullivant when someone else – O.L.K.- caught my eye. I won’t reveal his name here, because people deserve their privacy. But his seriousness, interest (and, I confess, the fact that he was a World War I veteran) commanded my respect. So I introduced myself, explained the situation, and paid him for the two spoonfuls of earth I took from his grave.

It’s been raining since last night, so that earth is drying in a very slow oven right now.

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