The Hag dances over the land, frost and snow and hail are falling and it’s too cold to venture to my forest. I hang every manner of charm, talisman,amulet and general anathema around the witch-wreath- a haggard old grapevine wreath that become the graveyard of charms and amulets meant to burn in the fires of Imbolc when I purge the home and welcome the blessed Bride; exalted and holy. She guards this wreath in the wintertime-it is a tomb for the shells and vessels that have held spirit and shade alike, and she consecrates the remains, unwind and unmake, bend and brake.