October has arrived.
Salt and cinnamon carry blessings in the wind through the front door of the dollhouse.
Autumn has announced herself.
Red, orange and yellow leaves make a breathtaking scene behind the river.
The buckeyes fill the walkway leading to an abundance of pumpkins on the stoop.
Sit a spell.
There are stories to tell.
The dollhouse was once known as Cannon Manor.
Its walls protected the witch and all who dwell here.
Back then, the witch went by many different titles.
The healer, the oracle, the portal between worlds, the hoodoo queen. The maiden, the seer, the wise one, to name a few.
Back then, she was also the teacher, the doctor, the muse.
Artwork and poetry depicting her timeless beauty honored her.
Her ideas and perspective were sought out by many.
Her nurturing manner comforted all who interacted with her.
She always knew what was needed.
For she, could see and feel in the unseen.
Her ancestors taught her well.
The crossroads became her canvas.
Shiny coins in her pockets at all times.
Crystals clanging against each other as her leather satchel created harmonious tones with each confident step she took.
She built her life around dreams and wished upon the stars and moon.
Longing for all to see the magic that she saw.
Often outcasted for being unrelatable, she found comfort in her solitude.
As the darkness of autumn falls, the veil between worlds disappear. The past finds the present and dance together in the moonlight.
Her soul never rests.
Her spirit never sleeps.
Her essence is everywhere,
Your secrets she safely keeps.
The Lady of Cannon Manor,
the descendant of the banshee,
trusted the witch.
Every word spoken, Lady Cannon trusted, as the witch, was no witch to her.
She instead was a beacon of light, an embodiment of hope.
A blessed daughter to love.
Lady Cannon enjoyed her time learning the ways of magic.
As she blessed her home, her wishes manifested into reality.
Living a fairy tale in her manor like a queen, Lady Cannon vowed in gratitude to always give her friend, the witch, a loving home.
Walls always washed with peppermint.
Floors always washed with lemon, clove & cinnamon.
Lady Cannon danced around the dollhouse while cleaning along side her staff. Her loving magic filling each room.
Lavender and sage placed on each pillow.
Chocolates on the nightstands.
Chamomile awaiting to calm the nerves.
Black tourmaline and quartz glistening in the windows, next to the white candles, while amethyst and amazonite sit proudly on the fireplace mantles.
Both women taught each other sacred gifts from their ancestors, passed down in instructional tradition. Each morning, they exchanged stories of knowledge and wisdom.
Lady Cannon and her trusted friend walked life side by side, protecting one another.
The witch vowed to protect the dollhouse.
Protect the community.
Protect the land.
For eternity.
In return, Lady Cannon promised a safe space.
A home.
Full of love to receive.
Full of prosperity.
A purpose.
To give love.
As darkness falls, the witch rises.
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