A few nights ago was Hecates Night, a special day for all of us who see her as teacher, mother, mentor and leader. I left yew seeds, enchanter’s nightshade, yew branches with bunches of berries, cloves of garlic, juniper boughs and frenzy wine (steeped with amanita and nightshade) in a sacred triangle at the crossroads of my local forest, where the yew tree grows. That night I dreamed of snakes and deer, of a wolf torn asunder and three silken black pelts adorning my altar.<br …