"Hannah has Hebrew School, and Kate starts confirmation class this fall. What will I do?" Skylar inquired of her mother.

Jennie paused in kneading bread dough to stare at the apple tree in direct line with her kitchen table.  The span of the tree’s gnarled branches pregnant with summer’s cloak of greenery hovered at the fence’s edge on either side of the deep, narrow yard, obscuring sight of the alley and the old garage converted to a workshop and greenhouse.  If this vintage round oak table was the hearth-center of their home, then the tree was the spiritual center.  Buds, blossoms, fruit - the apple tree was more than a Goddess Gift.  The seasonal
changes of the tree reflected the cycle of birth, death and re-birth.  It rooted Jennie as a source and a center of inspiration.  But how could she relate the symbolism to Skylar’s need for acknowledgment of a maiden’s passage in their quietly-kept Wiccan path? 

Perhaps a path not so quiet, but unobtrusive.  Like her mother, Isabella, long since retired from commercial production.  Jennie was a green witch, a kitchen witch, who cultivated calendula in a yard full of garden other than a clear circular path around the apple tree. 
Macerated in premium olive oil, Jennie shipped her calendula product to buyers countrywide at a good profit which was more than enough to support their modest lifestyle.  She also tended a comfrey patch and sold a healing salve locally.  A row of roses hugged both sides of the white frame house plus another row grew in front of the porch, split by the path to the sidewalk.  She harvested petals for potpourri and rose hips for tea for a local health market.

Jennie had grown up in a coven active for generations in a small Southern New Hampshire town. Her mother was a high priestess as had been her grandmother. York women and other coven ancestors had managed to keep alive the wise woman traditions through centuries of persecution in England before migrating as a group
almost three hundred years ago. Then the trust had suddenly been destroyed. When Jennie’s 60's generation reached adulthood, they had scattered, unwilling to conform to even the extreme non conformity of a Goddess-dominant coven, coined in this century as
Dianic. They kept in touch because the sisterhood was family, but not on a regular basis.  Not even Sabbats in recent years.  Several lived in Northern California now.  Others had married and joined mixed gender covens.  Her closest sister, Catherine, traveled a Renaissance Faire circuit, successfully marketing hand-crafted,
magickally-cast brooms.  Catherine lived with Jennie and Skylar during off seasons.  Daughters of Jennie’s generation were being raised in The Craft, but not as part of an age-tested traditional unit as she had been.  Recently, Isabella had mentioned to her about a puberty rite for Skylar and Jennie now wondered if her mother had put Skylar up to asking.

Jennie recalled her First Moon which had been an awesome affair. Sexual issues, including menstruation had been open, natural discussions in her childhood and Skylar had been raised the same. Physiological information was not the reason for a puberty rite. The
ceremony was about the mystical implications.

Menstrual blood was a visible reminder of new life and a symbol of the creative force in the natural cycle. Instead of viewing her period as “a curse”, Jennie had been encouraged to view the physical and emotional discomforts that often accompanied menses as an
inspiration for thought and work. Through the process Jennie had been enlightened in the meaning of womanhood.  She had learned to honor the power she held as a carrier of the mysteries of birth and death which in due time would mean accepting the ultimate gift
of life and the responsibility of motherhood. 

The blood gift is shared among womanhood and is a special experience each month, Jennie thought. A maiden’s passage was for honoring that unique gift which women receive, and it had to be a shared experience. Could she create a meaningful First Moon
for Skylar without a full coven to share in the blood gift ritual? Skylar had no sisterhood for support.  In the boundary-broken 90's, her closest friends were of the patriarchical spiritual paths. 

"We celebrate First Moon for a young woman’s passage," Jennie said, turning to her daughter. "Traditionally it’s done when menstruation starts or for modern schedule flexibility, the first year of
menstruation. You’re twelve and you started three months ago." Jennie wiped the flour from her hands on a towel and gently lifted a ginger red braid resting on Skylar’s budding breast. Ginger red hair like her own. Like Isabella’s. The mark of a lean, tallish York woman
along with sherry-brown eyes and freckles.  "Bridget’s Day is in six months and you’ll have turned thirteen. We could combine your puberty rites with our purification ritual."

Skylar looked disappointed. "Just the two of us?"

"Oh, no. Your grannies will be here," Jennie said rapidly.  Isabella lived in the house across the alley from them. Skylar’s father was high priest in a Gardnerian coven and his mother, Lorraine, remained committed to Skylar’s welfare. "Catherine will be in town, replenishing her stock for the spring season. We will have five with
you.  The elements of a pentacle, a Goddess number." She smiled encouragingly.

"Hannah has a Bat Mitzvah with a big party afterwards. Kate said when she joins the church, her parents will have a party, too.  I’ll be invited.  Can I invite Hannah and Kate to my First Moon?"

Jennie’s expression grew pensive. The coven had offered a shelter to her as a child. It provided automatic friendships and a tangible structure.  No matter how much protection magick Jennie wove around her daughter, regardless of her own availability for support,
Skylar still had to deal with the real world of peers. Jennie believed that Skylar had too much “witch” inbred in her to deny her spirituality, but the girl wanted to fit in with the only people available to her.  A certain competitiveness was natural, sometimes it seemed more
so in spiritual matters.  Skylar had been permitted to attend services with both Kate and Hannah whose parents prided themselves on their ecumenical liberalism. Kate’s mother had sporadically invited Skylar to attend church with them on a regular basis, but was not an evangelist.  Jennie was viewed by both families as a harmless aging hippie who alleviated their concerns about her lifestyle by being vocally anti-drugs. 

"Let me talk with your grannies," Jennie said. "They’re the experts at group and have had to cloak ritual with presentableness more than once I’m sure."

Skylar grinned. "May I tell Kate and Hannah about First Moon?"

"Mmm. Tell them...tell them it honors womanhood as it relates to having your period.  Don’t say..."

"Oh, Mom. I won’t mention the magick. Okay?"

Jennie smiled and nodded.  Skylar had always understood the need for secrecy.

* * *

At Jennie’s kitchen table, Isabella tapped the rim of her tea cup. "Now, Jen, Skylar can’t be bringing strangers into our ritual world.  It just won’t do."

Jennie considered her mother, a strong-minded, independent woman like herself but from whom she hoped she hadn’t inherited the prejudice currently being displayed. "You’re being as judgmental as a partriach-worshiper."

"She will lose her friends, my Dear.  Better she be disappointed than be labeled a witch, a lover of Satan."

"It would be a good time to enlighten them that witches don’t worship Satan.  It might even be beneficial to instruct calmly that Christians invented Satan. The Hebrew God was already wrathful and vindictive. They didn’t need a Satan figure to torment them."

"And you’ll say that to Hannah and Kate?  Tsk."  Isabella absently rubbed the sore, twisted knuckles on her right hand, aggravated by a dropping barometer which heralded a thunderstorm.  York women rarely married and in their thirties consistently paired with men who
fathered daughters only. They raised their girls and supported themselves with traditional choices for witches - crafts, healing, herbalism, fortune-telling. A decade ago at age seventy one, arthritis had forced her to retire from intense gardening.

Jennie reached for a jar of comfrey salve from the window shelf and gave it to Isabella. "When is your next massage?"  She asked.

"Don’t change the subject,"  Isabella said sharply, but she sighed with gratitude as she scooped into the jar for a generous portion of the salve.

"I’m simply concerned for your health, Mother.  Danielle’s weekly massage is a necessity for me."

"Me, too,"  Isabella admitted.  "I just don’t wish to involve strangers in the mysteries, particularly the daughter of a righteous Christian who keeps a mistress and the daughter of a scion in the temple who is secretly gay."

"Mother!"  Jennie swivelled to the window, relieved to glimpse through the leaves of the apple tree both girls under discussion happily ensconced with Skylar on a wooden platform nestled on the tree’s sturdy limbs.

"We kept to our own when I was growing up, when you were growing up. We belonged to the town and folks respected that.  But the past thirty years!  It’s been a literal invasion from Massachusetts. A spillage of rich professionals with their fancy worship houses has
changed the landscape and the attitude. I heard Halloween won’t be called “Halloween” this year because its alleged association with the Devil is offensive to certain people.  The school board has voted
to recognize the 31st as a Harvest Celebration."  Isabella snorted. "For the love of  Goddess, call it Samhain if you call it anything!"

"In many ways society is showing more tolerance, Mom,"  Jennie countered.  "You get on the Internet - Paganism flourishes. I read articles in magazines that try to dispel the misconceptions about our spirituality."

"And you can hardly say it.  Admit it.  Admit to Kate’s hypocritical father that you’re a witch. Tell Hannah’s father that you relate to his sexual urges because Skylar’s father is bi-sexual." 

"And your coven sisters called me and my sisters radical. Listen to you!  A 50's generation of women gone libber before it was in vogue."

Isabella smirked, her freckles and wrinkles mottling interchangeably. "We didn’t need the women’s movement. For that matter, neither did our mothers. Nor our grandmothers..."

Jennie held up her hand. "Could we just agree that we disagree and find a compromise on the ritual for Skylar’s sake?  She has to live in this imperfect world."

Isabella’s face smoothed. "Yes, I don’t wish to lose her. I don’t want her drawn another way."

"She won’t be, but she also needs to feel the richness of what we value. We need to make that meaningful in her context."

"Catherine participates in all sorts of rituals on the road and she will be here. Lorraine’s coven has become unrecognizable according to her because of new folks and new ideas. She’d welcome a break
from a new fangled Sabbat to join us." Isabella shrugged.  "I’ll take a look in the grimoire at our maiden passage rituals and see if one might be modified, but I’m not giving up my black robe and I insist you wear your red one. Skylar will wear a white one. This is thoroughly  a Goddess ritual and Her Triple Aspect must be acknowledged." 

Jennie nodded, thinking how could she get her mother to cooperate by not mentioning the Goddess, then shamed herself.  This was her tradition, her Path!  Perhaps it was time for Skylar to learn a real
lesson in tolerance or what might be the lack of it.  If she could only shelter Skylar...no.  She would always be a part of a spiritual minority, barring a Goddess miracle, and this passage should be used to mark more than honoring menstruation.  It was a coming
out.

Summer passed, and the girls returned to school.  Jennie finished her flower harvest, turned the soil and stored her gardening tools for the winter.  By Yule she had acceded to most of Isabella’s plans for
Skylar’s rites because to deny any part was to deny the divine spark of the Goddess which lived in her, Isabella and Skylar. She intended, then, to cast suchan illusion of magick around the ritual that Kate and
Hannah would recall only the wonder, not the words.  Her anxiety still increased, however, as February 2nd approached.

What had been designed as a formal dining room Jennie had transformed into a space for indoor rituals. Tonight the oak floorboards, a dominant black pentacle painted on them, gleamed from a recent polishing.  Stripped of furniture other than an oak
sideboard used for the altar, the three windows had been shrouded in black sheets.  A three-armed sterling silver candelabra with a candle each of white, red and black had been set in the middle of
the altar. Draped with a red cloth, it was bedecked with evergreens and lots of pine cones, symbolic of the Mother Goddess and childbirth.

Jennie watched Catherine place a jar of red body paint on the east end of the altar while Lorraine finished lighting candles and arranging their gifts for Skylar representing the elements on the oak shelves
in the corners of the room. Isabella was with Skylar, helping her dress in the new white robe which she had sewn for her grand daughter. 

The doorbell rang.  Jennie let out the breath she had been holding subconsciously.  One of their young guests had arrived.  She needed to take the asparagus quiches from the oven for their meal later
before she put on her robe.

Jennie gave one last glance to Kate and Hannah seated against the west wall of the room behind Catherine cross-legged on the pentacle. They were situated so as to be able to see the altar across from them. The girls were soundless and motionless in the shadows.  Catherine smiled slightly.  Jennie was relieved.  She had given her heart to the Lady for the right words to cast the circle and to call the directions and not to spook the girls. So far, so good.

With a nod to Lorraine who sat on the south side and one to Isabella anchoring the north, she turned to beckon Skylar waiting outside in the hall.

"Woman-child, enter The Women’s Circle," Jennie said.  She led Skylar into the center of the room, taking the jar of paint on her way. "Kneel down and receive the mark of our womanhood." As she
finger-painted a red triangle on Skylar’s forehead, Lorraine, Isabella and Catherine began to drum and chant. With a flourish Jennie pulled from her robe a black veil and placed it over Skylar’s head. "Meditate now on the meaning of change and the transformation taking place in your life."

Jennie had positioned herself to see the girls and as she joined in the chant, she noticed Kate and Hannah whispering.  Too late, she thought, too late.  She hoped they wouldn’t ruin the ritual by demanding to leave. She should have told them to leave quietly
if they were uncomfortable...Jennie mentally sighed. Catherine was keeping a strong psychic bead on them.  If she felt it necessary, she’d remove them.

Jennie signaled for the three women to stand with legs spread to form a birth tunnel.  Simultaneously, she halted the chanting, removed Skylar’s veil, and pushed her daughter through the women’s legs. She met Skylar at the altar, who emerged in her symbolic birth. The three women resumed their places. "We
walk the circle now and discover all that it is to be a woman," Jennie said, encircling Skylar’s shoulders and  guiding  her  to  the  east  corner.   "Skylar, as a woman you gain Wisdom as symbolized by the Air, Breath of the Goddess..." Her back was to the girls and
she felt as if they would bore holes in her with their staring, but Jennie kept her voice steady as she spoke and gave Skylar the Air symbol, a gift of perfume.

She lead her daughter to the southern corner and offered her a gold locket set with a topaz, Skylar’s birth stone. "Skylar, as a woman it is your joy to know Love symbolized by Fire, Heat of the Goddess..." Jennie kept her head straight, but could swear the girls twitched
because the candlelight by them danced on the wall. 

They passed Kate and Hannah, but Jennie ignored them. In the western corner, she lifted a silver goblet into her daughter’s hands. "Skylar, as a woman you feel the flow of life, the intuitive force as symbolized by Water, Womb of the Goddess..." Did she hear giggling?  She sent mental instruction to Catherine even as she
continued to speak to Skylar about the element. 

Finally, she and Skylar’s stood before the last corner and Jennie placed a red rose on her daughter’s open palm. "Skylar," she said, " as a woman you possess the power to create symbolized by the Earth, Home of the Goddess, which she shares with us..." Jennie could hear rustling, but she kept her eyes on a rapturous Skylar,
oblivious to everything except the magick. The Magick.  Jennie’s voice almost faltered.  In worrying so much over appearances and consequences, Jennie had almost forgotten the reason for the ritual.  She had almost let Skylar’s passage be less than perfect because she couldn’t focus.  Thank you, My Lady, she thought and with a burst of joy, she led Skylar to the altar to light the candles of the Triple Goddess. 

"...White for the Maiden, the color of the waxing moon.  Red for the Mother, the color of the full moon. Black for the Crone, the color of the waning moon," Jennie said as Skylar lit each candle in turn. "You and the cycles of the moon are now one just as the Goddess is one in
you." 

Jennie picked up a mirror from the altar and held it to Skylar’s face. "We are now woman to woman. We are of The Goddess who creates life and takes it.  In Her Name, take the magickal power of life with pride and responsibility."  As a final gift, Jennie opened a drawer in the sideboard and withdrew a bracelet she had strung
of white, red and black beads. 

Catherine came forward.  She took the bracelet and slipped it on to Skylar’s right wrist. "White is your purity and wholeness of self, Blessed Be," she said, sniffing through her tears. 

Lorraine stepped up and in a wobbly, wet voice said, "Red is the color of our menses, the sign of our fertility and our creative force whether it be of our bodies or of our mind or our of hands or of our heart. Blessed Be."

Isabella, tears flowing, kissed Skylar’s cheek and said, "Black is for the wisdom that comes with age and experience. Blessed Be."

Jennie smiled through her own tears at Skylar whose eyes shone with moisture. "We welcome you to the sisterhood" she said. "Greet each of your sisters as equals. Blessed Be."

As Skylar spoke each woman’s name, Jennie sneaked a look at the girls who appeared...restless, but dazed. Had the magick cast been enough?  Jennie determined not to think beyond the moment. She wouldn’t risk destroying Skylar’s celebration anymore than she
almost had. 

The day following the ritual, Jennie hung up the telephone and laughed. She laughed so loudly that Catherine painting silver spirals on broom handles in the basement put down her brush and came up the stairs.

"I could use a chuckle," Catherine said, entering the kitchen.

Jennie kept laughing and waved at the kettle.  To share this meant sharing a pot of tea, too.  It was a sub-zero Sunday, and she was glad to be snug at home.  Lorraine had taken Skylar to a coven gathering to be formally acknowledged by her father as a full member of the Pagan community.

As Catherine filled the kettle at the sink, Jennie got control of herself.

"Cat, you’ll never believe this.  That was Hannah’s mother.  She called to thank me for including Hannah at Skylar’s ritual.  Unbeknownst to her husband, she’s into the study of the Kabbala and assumes what we were doing related to it!"

Catherine turned the burner on high and looked over her shoulder at Jennie, her eyebrows raised.  "Jewish mysticism and secret doctrine?  Talismans....magical methods?"

"I need to trust my protection spells. I was so worried..." 

"One down, one to go, eh?"

"Skylar will have one friend, at least," Jennie said.  She closed her eyes and whispered, "Blessings, Goddess."

Jennie waited the rest of the day for a reaction from Kate’s parents, but none came.  The next morning as she saw Skylar off to school, she cast an especially strong protection around her daughter to buffer any ill exchange that might occur with her Christian friend.  By
afternoon, she had given up trying to organize her tax information for the accountant.  She baked oatmeal raisin cookies, warmed cocoa, and had ready a shoulder for Skylar to cry on.

The front door opened with a chilly blast felt clear in the back of house.  Jennie shivered. "Hi, Mom!" Skylar greeted in her usual happy tone.

"In the kitchen," Jennie responded. 

"Guess what?" Skylar said as she kissed Jennie. "Kate’s parents are getting a divorce! Isn’t that sad?"

The mistress, Jennie thought.  Kate’s mom must have found out or her father had made a choice. "I’m sorry for her, Sky.  How is she taking it?"

"She’s real mad at her dad because he moved out yesterday."  Skylar gave her mother a sly look.  "Are you wondering about what Kate said to her mom about my passage?"

Jennie narrowed her eyes.  "I have wondered," she said. She had mentioned to Skylar about Hannah’s mother reaction.

"Her mom was raised Roman Catholic.  Whatever Kate told her came out translated as Mary-worship. She didn’t find what she called  "a celebration of the Divine Feminine"  to be a bit offensive according to Kate. Anyway, her mother is distracted by the other stuff going on.  May I have a cookie and cocoa now?"

"Get off your coat and those wet boots first."

Skylar skipped from the kitchen. 

Jennie looked at her barren apple tree, the knobby gray bark powdered with new snow.  In perfect love, in perfect trust, she thought.  The Lady is here for us, and Magick works.