Doreen Valiente
A Keeper of the Old Ways, Tender of the Ancestral Flame
The Craft’s quiet revolution, one chant at a time.
I didn’t come down from some misty peak — I walked home from the post-war office, lit a candle, and began to write what the earth had whispered. My Craft is in the mugwort’s scent, the altar’s cloth, and the turning wheel of the year. I’ve learned from cunning folk, from books, and from the land itself. Call me Mother of Wicca if you must, but I’d rather you just listen — really listen — to the hawthorn in bloom, to the Goddess in the wind, to the God in the dusk.
What I'm Into: Altar cloths worn soft with use, the hush of a circle cast, ritual poetry that breathes, mugwort and meadowsweet, old songs remembered
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