She sat gazing at the last harvest moon at Samhain on the eve of 31 October 1785. There were to be no more harvest festival frivolities for her, she had work to do. The house was cold and the wind blew through the cracks beneath doors and windows chilling her fingers as she wrote her diary entries.

Her Grandmother’s legacy was drawing her into another adventure; she remembers now that exciting moment of discovery of the ‘Book of Shadows’.

Eons ago Elizabeth Evans, her grandmother, was held captive in the Castle at Haverfordwest. When Mary rescued her, her grandmother had revealed the existence of the Book of Shadows, her grimoire of a practising Wiccan.

Mary’s words were marching across her paper in rapid succession as she pulled on her memories; she referred to this process as ‘drawing down the moon’. It was not quite the same as the Wiccan ritual involving the goddess and speaking as another, but definitely embraced the feeling of needing no ship to fly through the air, and being free from her weight. Her memories of real and imagined events were mixed with the folk lore she learned from her Grandmother.

The Grimoire was a treasured possession, although humble in appearance. Its black metallic cover was worn in places and its clasp no longer prevented its opening. Mary held it now reverently and moved her hand slowly over the bindings to check for any other signs of wear and tear. She opened it to the first page where the words of the poem were scribed in her grandmother’s flowing calligraphy, and scanned the first three stanzas. She knew these words by heart!

Aradia appears from dark places unknown
Healing followers approaching her throne
Stronger than the hardest warrior last
Drawing down the moon from times of past

Power of Three, she preaches the law
Future sealed from actions of old lore
Energy you bring, returned three filled
Say, ‘An’ ye harm none, do what ye will’

I am wiser than the wisest owl
I am truer than the moon above
I am faster that the rivers below
Between heaven and earth, I do rule

In her diary Mary continued to write the stories and the adventures she learned from her grandmother. The story of the Song of Lore was now ready to be revealed and she was eager to complete this chapter in her journal on this night of Samhain; a night when spirits could freely enter the world. This is a time to remember those who have passed on, celebrate the Summers end and prepare for Winter months ahead. The Sun God and earth fall into slumber, as the nights lengthen and winter begins. She could feel the spirit of her grandmother hovering close by and hear faint whispering beneath her door.

Mary was being guided by the Song of Lore!