A Sweet Great Rite: A Pagan Service Announcement

Hot, fresh Krispy Kreme doughnuts straight off the conveyor belt are one of my favorite things.

In fact, they cause the same physical, mental, and psychological responses in my body that I experience during an extremely intense orgasm.  My brain floods with endorphins,  my eyes roll to the back of my head, my doughnut spasms, and I spill over with my very own sugar glaze.

If you don’t believe me, ask the Krispy Kreme workers.  There are hundreds of them running around the Southeastern US that have seen my cute O face and heard my sighs of pleasure.  And it has to be Krispy Kreme.  Those Yankee carpetbagging cake doughnuts from Dunkin’ Doughnuts do absolutely nothing for me except to make me want to start humming “Dixie”.


Today, June 5th, is National Doughnut Day.  It’s nothing but a ploy by the pastry industry to make you fat and penniless.  However, here at  ”The Barbed Pentacle”, we are going to start a new tradition:  The Sweet Great Rite!  The Sweet Great Rite should be celebrated whenever you feel hungry and frisky, not just on June 5th!  Why the Sweet Great Rite?  Well, let’s be honest.  A doughnut is nothing but an edible facsimile of a vagina, just like a taco.  It has a hole, it’s sweet and yielding, and you just stick your tongue through the hole and start gobbling.

If it’s a hole-less doughnut, then it must be a virgin.  Take care not to hurt it too much as you pop that hymen and suck the sweet creamy goodness out!  Just only have doughnut holes?  Then you suck.  You got the sloppy seconds.  Plus, doughnuts come in a box that seems absolutely endless until there’s nothing left and you’ve hit the cervix.

What about things like eclairs and those long twisty pastry things?  They’re pastry penises that love penetrating lusciously sweet doughnuts all morning long.  They can plow through a dozen at a time.

Now, if the female twat doesn’t arouse you, doughnuts can also be male twats, also known as assholes.

I’m pretty sure, based on my different drug-induced hallucinations, that eating a fresh Krispy Kreme doughnut is just like eating out the Goddess.

It’s hot and steamy, the pastry yielding gently and willingly to my tongue and teeth, sweet glaze dripping everywhere in obscene pleasure…….

The Sweet Great Rite can be celebrated in several different ways.  The most fun way is to take your fried yeast doughnut and lay it on your partner’s orifice.  Then start the fucking, with whatever you normally use.  If you’re not equipped with a penis or a dildo, get a pastry penis!  Then just eat and fuck your way to a sweet and sticky orgasm.  Remember, if you’re truly doing the Great Rite, you need to open yourself up to the energies of the Lord and Lady, in whatever aspect you worship them in.  Otherwise it’s just food sex, which is fun too.  If you’re by yourself, well I’m sure you can get creative.

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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow, Part 8: Urban Homesteading

When most people hear the word “homesteader”, an image of Laura Ingalls Wilder or some similar personage pops into their head.

Some people may be a little more hip, and conjure up an image of a Mother Eather living in a sod house run by solar energy. While the first image was valid in the 1870′s, and the second in the 1970′s, neither image is a very valid representation of the urban and suburban homesteaders of today.
Urban/suburban homesteading is the keeping of animals and gardening for self-sufficiency in an urban or suburban environment. What most urban homesteaders do today, three to four generations ago would have been considered matter-of-fact. It was not unusual then for even the most urban of dwellers to have two or three chickens caged up waiting to go into the pot. Everybody grew something, even if it was only tomatoes in pots on the fire escape.
Urban homesteading is often called “micro-farming” because it uses minuscule plots of land to their fullest. Homesteaders do this by utilizing miniature, pygmy, and bantam breeds, raising livestock that require little space, gardening in raised beds, using the square foot method of organization, and employing companion planting. Chickens, rabbits, and bees are popular species that are kept on urban homesteads due to their minimal space requirements and the farm products that are produced from them.

Make sure when you start planning your back yard or rooftop homestead to research your area’s laws and ordinances regarding livestock in the city limits. While more and more cities and towns are recognizing the importance of backyard livestock, there are still many areas that don’t allow chickens, much less larger animals like goats, and some of these municipalities even have bee bans.  If you slaughter your own livestock, which in keeping with Pagan ideals, I highly suggest you do, you should also research your area’s ordinances about disposal of dead animal parts.  Some areas want you to bury the remains, while other areas want you to incinerate them or take them to a special landfill.  Most cities will not allow you to set up a bone project in your back yard.  They frown on charnel houses.

Bees are incredibly easy to keep in an urban environment, and they add an interesting element to many Pagans’ spirituality.  The insects have traditionally been viewed as messengers, but I stated above, some places do not allow bees.  For more information on starting your own urban hive, click here.   Urban bees tend to have an easier time surviving since so many gardens are planted with early and late blooming exotics and there are numerous water sources from fountains to sprinklers.

So, this all sounds vaguely interesting?  Call upon your favorite pastoral deities, and head to the feed store and live stock auctions!

Check out the eggs laid by these chickens:
Erotic Sensations:  http://eroticsensations.us/
Tonia Brown: www.thebackseatwriter.com
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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow, Part 7: Guerrilla Gardening, Squatters’ Circles, and Urban Foraging

As anyone who has gardened knows, gardening is dirty work.  It’s sweaty, dirt gets under your nails, your hair gets messed up.  Sounds sort of like sex!  For me, gardening is a very sensual act.  You’re plowing furrows and fingering seeds into the warm, moist earth.

Gardening is also a very magical act.  The act lends itself well to sympathetic magic.  You can imbue your desires or intent into the seed and then plant it.  As it grows, so too should your intent or desire.
Magic can also be added to gardening by following the old traditions of planting by the signs.  There are two systems to take into consideration when planting by the signs.

System One is to plant by the phases of the moon.  New moon to Full moon is good for planting above ground crops and seeds and for digging new beds.  The Full moon is best for harvesting.  The Waning moon is best for weeding and pruning.  Root crops should be planted in the dark of the moon.  System One is the simplest system.

System Two is to plant by where the moon is in the Zodiac.  It’s more complicated than System One and requires the use of a Farmer’s Almanac.  System One and Two can be combined together, but it’s sometimes difficult to find compatible days. Just like with most magical workings, timing is important, and folks, especially Old Timers, will swear that plants do better when planted at the appropriate time.  If you can’t wait to dig into magical gardening, there are lots of good books out there, particularly by Kate West and Ellen Dugan.

What should you do in the garden when the moon’s in Scorpio?

For many people, myself included, gardening space is at a premium because they live in an urban or suburban environment.  Container, balcony, and rooftop gardening are all wonderful options, but so is Guerrilla Gardening.

Guerrilla Gardening is a concept that started in London to fill the empty, arable spaces in the city.  Some of the land was city owned, but most of it was vacant private lots.  The movement has now grown worldwide.

Except for the subversive nature of it, guerrilla gardening is not much different from regular gardening.  Both Wikihow and Guerrillagardening.org have step-by-step guides and tips for beginners.

Seed bombs are a common guerrilla gardener’s tool. Made from seeds, soil, and water, the bombs are made to be nonchalantly tossed into vacant lots and will burst open on contact.  They work best if they are made from seeds that do not have to be covered by soil to germinate.  Germination requirements can usually be found on the back of seed packages. Seed bombs are perfect for garden spells, especially if you are without a garden space.  First, figure out the proper timing for the spell.  Then, imbue your seeds with your intent and desires.  Your seeds should be representative of your intent.  To ensure this, consult correspondence charts or a language of flowers guide.  More than one type of seed can be added to the bomb to create a complex and longer lasting spell.  If you want, writing a chant to say while you make the bomb and at launch time will strengthen your magic.  Now choose your location. Ideally, it should be a location near something related to your spell intent or near you.

My god looks like Che!

When it’s time, travel to your launch site, and on the way invoke the God and Goddess to aid your seeds and desires to germinate and grow.  Now throw!  If you wrote a chant for the spell and you pass the site often, recite your chant every time you go by.  The more you put your intent out to the Universe, the more likely the Universe is to make it a reality.

In a way, guerrilla gardens are squatters.

Real squatters–not her–use unoccupied land without the owner’s permission.  Squatting is common everywhere, and every place has different rules about it.

Depending on your locality’s  laws, you may be able to make a guerrilla garden into an outdoor worship area.  Many urban and suburban Pagans don’t worship outdoors because they don’t have a piece of land to worship on.  Some Pagans utilize parks, but many don’t because of the number of people milling about.  However, with some strategic planting, lots of invisibility thoughts, and good site scouting, circle squatting is a much better option than the park.  Before you start your outdoor circle, make sure to research the laws in your area about squatting.  While you’re of course going to claim ignorance if a cop stops you, it’s always best to know beforehand where you stand legally.

Vacant lots and other “wild” urban and suburban places are also excellent for foraging and gleaning.  Foraging is when you gather edibles from the wild.  This can either be done along the marginally green areas

or in the wilds of the park.

There many good field guides available specifically geared toward foragers.  Make sure to get one that’s specific to your area.  Some easy foraging foods are fruits, dandelion greens, Queen Anne’s Lace tubers, wild strawberries, and nuts.  If you’re not sure if the plants you’re foraging from have been sprayed with chemicals, then leave them be.  Treehugger.com has an informative guide for beginner foragers.

Ruth gleaned a rich husband!

Gleaning is similar to foraging, except that it occurs in a cultivated setting.  Gleaners collect the produce that has been left behind by farmers and gardeners.  The produce may be slightly bruised, wind fallen, or simply left by a harvester.  Following old hospitality traditions, many farmer and gardeners will purposely leave behind a portion of their harvest.  There are many aid agencies and food banks that rely on armies of foragers to harvest the extras for the hungry.  However, there’s no reason why you can’t harvest for yourself.  Many cities now have websites and Facebook pages that have up-to-the minute information about where to get wind fall apples or forgotten tomatoes.  Seriouseats.com is a good starting point for finding free food in your area.

Good food doesn’t have to be expensive, nor is a lack of land a good excuse for not growing your own food. Food grown by you tastes better, is healthier, and it puts you closer to the God and Goddess and their holy union.

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Tonia Brown: www.thebackseatwriter.com
Erotic Sensations:  eroticsensations.us

Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow, Part 6: Nothing’s Better on a Cracker than Aphrodite’s Oyster!

Raw, succulent meat; the juices trickling down your mouth as the flavors create star bursts in your eyes and make you hard and throbbing.  The experience of eating meat in its original, or close to its original state, can be truly orgasmic.  It excites the primal urges in us that day-to-day living often suppresses or squelches. The same primal urges that push us to occasionally tear into a piece of raw meat are the same urges that rule our sex drive, and for many of us, the urge to worship in a Pagan format.  Raw meat encapsulates sex and Paganism in all its forms:  from the super elegant sushi 
to the fun and vibrant ceviche
to the familiar but slightly exotic carpaccio,
to the raw, harsh, and just a little dirty, tartare.
By eating raw meat, you take the essence of life into you, just like you do when you swallow during oral sex.  When you partake of the essence of life, how can you ever truly hunger?  Try eating raw meat protein for cakes and ale during your next ritual and see how big of a difference it makes.  Once people get over their initial ignorance and actually try it, they’ll be begging for more because it entices the body to make endorphins which makes you feel wonderful!  Then they’ll be begging to leave to hook up with the one(s) they like best, unless you belong to one of THOSE groups.
While all of the above mentioned raw meat dishes can act as an aphrodisiac, the raw meat that most people are familiar with is the oyster.  Slurping oysters can range from absolute decadence to pure primal passion.  Why stop at dozen?  Give me the whole net full!  Just from looking at a raw oyster, it’s easy to see how early humans assumed that the mollusk would aid in the marital bed.
Some oysters even have a little pearl to rub, just like the real deal!

Before slurping, you first have to learn how to shuck oysters, which sounds an awful lot like you’re doing something else to the oyster……

Now comes the most wonderful part of all:

She looks like she can feel the Goddess exciting her taste buds and sliding down her throat!

Evangeline the Oyster Girl, a goddess in her own right.

Although oysters are thought to be an aphrodisiac, one of those wonderful eponymous substances from the goddess Aphrodite, Aphrodite is not usually associated with oysters.  Instead, it’s the fabled scalloped that she is known for.

Out of the sea foam she came, riding the waves on a scallop shell after being created from Uranus’ severed testicles.  So in essence, the goddess of love, beauty, and passion was conceived in the ocean (a most feminine of forces) from the scattered seed of a god–and given the nature of the seed giving, it could almost be seen as a conception from rape.  I guess that’s what you can expect when your name is Ur-anus!

Among the many things that are considered sacred to Aphrodite, like scallops and horses (because you know the goddess of Love loves to ride), sparrows (that’s me!) can be counted in the number.

Just like oysters, Aphrodite’s scallops can be eaten raw.

So, where should all this raw meat be leading you?  To rekindling the passion in your life–whatever passion that might be!
Sparrow’s Aphrodite Passion Ritual

Like most of my rituals, this one is very free form and can be done with a magical partner or alone.  You will need to assemble the following items: rose scented candles, myrrh incense, apple slices and seeds, a pomegranate (and the juice or wine), raw meat–preferably sea food, raw honey, pearls (real or fake), scallop shells, and any sexual aids you may want.

Set up your ritual space as you would normally.  Then light the myrrh and call out to Aphrodite to join you in your rite to rekindle passion in your life.  On your candle, write or etch the areas of your life you want to be more passionate in.  Focus on these for a minute, and then light the candle.  As the candle catches, see yourself becoming more passionate in those areas.
After the candle has burned for a bit, pour some of the wax into the scallop shell.  Before the wax cools, add in pearls, apple seeds, and pomegranate seeds and see with each item, passion returning to you.  If you have myrrh resin, you can add some of that as well.  You can make a pattern or be free form. This is your passion talisman.  Just as a woman’s shell is filled with the passion of her lover, your shell has now been filled with your passion.  Hold the shell as you consume the raw meat, honey, fruit, and drink.  Don’t forget to libate to Aphrodite.  As you consume your meal, feel the passion of Aphrodite fill you up, starting in your groin and working outward from there.  Feel her passion being infused into your talisman.  Enjoy yourself.  Enjoy the feelings and textures that you’re experiencing.  That’s what passion is all about.  If you wish, the ritual can be sealed and ended with passionate sex or some steamy self love.  If possible, let the candle burn itself out.  If not, extinguish it and relight it when you need a passion boost.

For more information about incorporating raw meat into your every day diet, visit: http://www.rawpaleodiet.com/.

If slurping fish just isn’t your thing and you much prefer cans, then have fun exploring other things to eat on a cracker.

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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow, Part 5: What Zombies Like to Eat

Zombies like to eat people, and not in the same why that I like to eat people.  They like to eat fresh, live people. According to Wiccan author Tonia Brown, who has made a name for herself in the horror, zombie, steam punk, and smut genres, zombies will also eat other live animals.  The key word here, though, is live.
Zombies historically have been cannibals.  As humans, we have a deep aversion to cannibalism, even when it’s done for absolute survival and the cannibalized person died of natural causes.  Why is this?  Is it because if we engage in cannibalism then we give in to our primal selves and become more animal-like than human-like?  Other animals engage in cannibalism, why shouldn’t we?

There are many cultures around the world that engage in different forms of cannibalism, from straight up killing your neighbor and putting him on the grill, to eating a dead monk’s brain to ingest his knowledge, to smoking a cremated relative’s ashes.  On a recent episode of Shameless, Frank and Monica smoked Grammy Gallagher’s cremated remains.

I’ve smoked remains before, as well as eaten them in brownies and drank them in Cuba Libres.  It’s a little gritty, on a lot of different levels, but considering all the things they do with cremated remains now (even packing them into empty ammo casings), it’s really not that odd.  What better way to honor a dead friend than to make them part of your body and engage in some sorta legal cannibalism?

Moral discussions about cannibalism, as well as the usual quest for food, is an all consuming drive in Tonia Brown’s new novel, Bad Ass Zombie Road Trip.

The novel is about two guys, Dale and Jonah , who fancy themselves musicians. On the way to a gig, things pretty much go to Hell in a beat up Ford Focus on the side of an interstate in California. Anyone who has been to or lived in California knows that the interstates there are Hell, so it should come as no surprise that the handsome devil Lucifer is roaming the asphalt. In a series of unfortunate, profanity laden events, things go from bad to worse as Jonah is swallowed up by a whale of a situation. The boys end up on a cross-country race against the clock to recover the most precious thing that Dale possesses (and it’s not his penis). Along the way, the boys learn that it’s almost impossible to outwit the Devil, they pick up a stripper named Candy, and they learn about the weird toilet phenomena that happens when a zombie eats human food.

This is a perfect electronic read for your spring break beach adventure or your summer road trip to visit the numerous over-priced Pagan festivals that are being planned as you read this review. Its light, raunchy prose will keep you amused and slightly aroused for hours on in while you bake yourself in the sand and sun or pretend to be interested in some over-hyped Pagan expert that charges several hundred dollars an hour to tell you how wiping your ass is no longer healthy and that Gaea doesn’t approve of Charmin toilet paper.

The only negative thing that I have to say about this novel is that Candy does not come across as a genuine Carolina girl. If she were really from the Carolinas then she would never have told the boys that to people who live on the board between North and South Carolina, that it doesn’t really matter which state you say you’re from. Yes it does Candy! It matters a great deal! As someone who has lived in both Carolinas, you learn from an early age that each state thinks it’s better than the other one. To people in South Carolina, everyone from North Carolina is in-bred and a redneck. To people in North Carolina, everyone in South Carolina is a snob and a crook. They’re very different places, Miss Candy. How about you don’t get caught in the rain and melt as you try to decided which Carolina you’re from, sugar foot!

For more information on real zombies, check out Zora Neale Hurston’s Tell My Horse. To purchase a copy of Bad Ass Zombie Road Trip visit: http://www.amazon.com/Badass-Zombie-Road-Trip-ebook/dp/B006ZAJ4M4.

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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow: A Figging Detour!

Please take just a little detour over to the “Oh My” section to see how to incorporate ginger into your play and rituals (scroll down to “Spice Up Your Life–Or Sear It Into Your Being”):
And then come back to read the rest of the blog.  Thanks!

If you decide that you really like figging, or if you just really like sipping ginger tea, making ginger bath scrubs, eating stir fry, and baking gingerbread cookies, then you may want to consider growing your own ginger.  By growing your own, you can impart your own magical intent into the roots, and you can be certain that your ginger is organic.  Ginger is really easy to grow in buckets on the porch or balcony or inside in pots.  Because ginger is a root crop, it should be planted in the dark of the moon in the early spring.  So, plan this project for that odd day or two just before the new moon.
According to Deb Brown, professor emeritus of the Department of Horticultural Science at the University of Minnesota, ginger can be grown from ginger root bought in the super market.  This is the perfect thing to do with your left over ginger from figging.  Because really, unless you’re in the early stages of pregnancy or undergoing chemo, how much ginger tea are you really going to drink? (If you didn’t know, ginger tea soothes a nauseated stomach.  Try it next time you drink too much.)  Since it is a tropical plant that needs a long, warm growing season to produce mature roots, ginger should be grown in pots in doors in temperate climates.
What you need: a container 14-16 inches across and at least that deep with drainage holes in the bottom, potting soil and slow release fertilizer.  Make sure that the potting soil drains but still retains some moisture. You don’t want your rhizomes (ginger hands) to dry out or rot.
Put the soil and fertilizer in the pot.  Plant the rhizome horizontally 1 inch deep.  Water the pot well and place your plant inside in a sunny spot until nighttime temperatures rise above 50 degrees Fahrenheit.  Your ginger plant needs heat, humidity, and dappled sunlight (think about the light coming through trees in the woods).  It should only receive direct sunlight early or late in the day.  Always keep the soil moist but not soggy (or you’ll have rotten ginger).  Like most plants, ginger will die back once the weather turns cold.  When this happens, it’s time to harvest your ginger and have a little fun with figging.  Scrub your harvested rhizomes with a potato brush and store them in a plastic bag with holes in it.  In addition to being refrigerated, ginger can also be frozen for later use.

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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow, Part 3: Honey, I Hit Dinner–Vehicular Hunting

Some people buy turkey breast at the store.  Some people purchase a whole turkey from a CSA farmer.  Some people hunt turkeys in the spring.  Lee hits turkeys with his truck, brings them home, and eats them.
Lee practices vehicular hunting, which is when a person intentionally or unintentionally hits an animal with their vehicle and then takes it home to eat.  This is different from the mean motherfuckers who purposely swerve to hit cats, or the fringe eaters who take home found road kill to consume.  Vehicular hunters simply choose to hunt animals with their vehicles as the opportunity presents itself.  Lee is not only a vehicular hunter, but he’s also Pagan.
Lee, who has been hunting this way for 17 years, first realized the ideas for vehicular hunting when he was 13 and his mother hit a rabbit.  Instead of just leaving it in the road, she stopped and took it home for supper.  Three years later he got his first chance to try it.  
I was driving home from work one day, taking the back roads as always (back then we still had plenty of dirt roads) when I saw a hen turkey crossing the road. I floored it, and the turkey began to run on across the road, so i swerved to hit it. (You don’t swerve on a dirt road going 55.) I lost control of the car, and the car went spinning around in the road coming to a stop, hitting a mail box, sending the mail box flying up in the air, and landing beside my car. I jumped out to see how bad I was in the ditch. I was lucky. I jumped back in and hauled ass home. That’s when the fever hit me.”

While a turkey was Lee’s cherry animal, since then he has hunted with his vehicle rabbits, deer, more turkeys, and an accidental owl.  Lee isn’t sure how many animals he has in his kill count.  ”How many times have you masturbated?” Lee responded,”It’s the same.. .you don’t keep count.”
Lee’s connection to the Divine has played a part in his hunting practices.  Following in the footsteps of his God, he continues to hunt with his vehicle. 
“Most gods were opportunist gods. I know mine was,” Lee contends.  ”If he had a truck that could graze a hare and kill it, he sure would of been in one and hung his rabbit stick from the rear view mirror. Shit! He would be sailing down the road with a nymph sucking his cock and two more nymphs in the back seat of his extended cab waiting their turn, a big 24oz of beer in the holder, smoking a big doobie, jamming to David Allan Coe, with his hounds on back of the truck, tongues flapping in the wind–and a jar of ‘White’ stashed under his seat. Yep, that’s my god.”

Because vehicular hunting is highly illegal, with legal ramifications ranging from heavy fines to losing your vehicle, Lee cautions to keep your kills to yourself.  He knows of several folks who have been caught. ”Keep something to cover/hide the animal under,” Lee advises, ” it’s illegal as hell. And they will fine you. Never swerve to hit an animal. Always keep straight and down gear.”
Happy Hunting!

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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow: Poetry Supplement

Just a little fruity sex to sweeten the day!

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Goblin Market

Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
“Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpeck’d cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheek’d peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries;—
All ripe together
In summer weather,—
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy, come buy.”
               Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bow’d her head to hear,
Lizzie veil’d her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
“Lie close,” Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
“We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?”
“Come buy,” call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
“Oh,” cried Lizzie, “Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men.”
Lizzie cover’d up her eyes,
Cover’d close lest they should look;
Laura rear’d her glossy head,
And whisper’d like the restless brook:
“Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes.”
“No,” said Lizzie, “No, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us.”
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat’s face,
One whisk’d a tail,
One tramp’d at a rat’s pace,
One crawl’d like a snail,
One like a wombat prowl’d obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.
               Laura stretch’d her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.
               Backwards up the mossy glen
Turn’d and troop’d the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
“Come buy, come buy.”
When they reach’d where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One rear’d his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heav’d the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
“Come buy, come buy,” was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Long’d but had no money:
The whisk-tail’d merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr’d,
The rat-faced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried “Pretty Goblin” still for “Pretty Polly;”—
One whistled like a bird.
               But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
“Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather.”
“You have much gold upon your head,”
They answer’d all together:
“Buy from us with a golden curl.”
She clipp’d a precious golden lock,
She dropp’d a tear more rare than pearl,
Then suck’d their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flow’d that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She suck’d and suck’d and suck’d the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She suck’d until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gather’d up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turn’d home alone.
               Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
“Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Pluck’d from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the noonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so.”
“Nay, hush,” said Laura:
“Nay, hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more;” and kiss’d her:
“Have done with sorrow;
I’ll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap.”
               Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other’s wings,
They lay down in their curtain’d bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fall’n snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipp’d with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gaz’d in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
Not a bat flapp’d to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Lock’d together in one nest.
               Early in the morning
When the first cock crow’d his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetch’d in honey, milk’d the cows,
Air’d and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churn’d butter, whipp’d up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sew’d;
Talk’d as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day’s delight,
One longing for the night.
               At length slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;
Lizzie pluck’d purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homeward said: “The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags.
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep.”
But Laura loiter’d still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.
               And said the hour was early still
The dew not fall’n, the wind not chill;
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
“Come buy, come buy,”
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
               Till Lizzie urged, “O Laura, come;
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glowworm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?”
               Laura turn’d cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
“Come buy our fruits, come buy.”
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life droop’d from the root:
She said not one word in her heart’s sore ache;
But peering thro’ the dimness, nought discerning,
Trudg’d home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnash’d her teeth for baulk’d desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.
               Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
“Come buy, come buy;”—
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon wax’d bright
Her hair grew thin and grey;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.
               One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dew’d it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watch’d for a waxing shoot,
But there came none;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dream’d of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crown’d trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
               She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetch’d honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.
               Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister’s cankerous care
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins’ cry:
“Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy;”—
Beside the brook, along the glen,
She heard the tramp of goblin men,
The yoke and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Long’d to buy fruit to comfort her,
But fear’d to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest winter time
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.
               Till Laura dwindling
Seem’d knocking at Death’s door:
Then Lizzie weigh’d no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kiss’d Laura, cross’d the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook:
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.
               Laugh’d every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes,—
Hugg’d her and kiss’d her:
Squeez’d and caress’d her:
Stretch’d up their dishes,
Panniers, and plates:
“Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs.”—
               “Good folk,” said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie:
“Give me much and many: —
Held out her apron,
Toss’d them her penny.
“Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,”
They answer’d grinning:
“Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry:
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us.”—
“Thank you,” said Lizzie: “But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I toss’d you for a fee.”—
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One call’d her proud,
Cross-grain’d, uncivil;
Their tones wax’d loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbow’d and jostled her,
Claw’d with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soil’d her stocking,
Twitch’d her hair out by the roots,
Stamp’d upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeez’d their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.
               White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood,—
Like a rock of blue-vein’d stone
Lash’d by tides obstreperously,—
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire,—
Like a fruit-crown’d orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee,—
Like a royal virgin town
Topp’d with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguer’d by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.
               One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuff’d and caught her,
Coax’d and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratch’d her, pinch’d her black as ink,
Kick’d and knock’d her,
Maul’d and mock’d her,
Lizzie utter’d not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laugh’d in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syrupp’d all her face,
And lodg’d in dimples of her chin,
And streak’d her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kick’d their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writh’d into the ground,
Some div’d into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanish’d in the distance.
               In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro’ the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse,—
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she fear’d some goblin man
Dogg’d her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin scurried after,
Nor was she prick’d by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.
               She cried, “Laura,” up the garden,
“Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeez’d from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men.”
               Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutch’d her hair:
“Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruin’d in my ruin,
Thirsty, canker’d, goblin-ridden?”—
She clung about her sister,
Kiss’d and kiss’d and kiss’d her:
Tears once again
Refresh’d her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kiss’d and kiss’d her with a hungry mouth.
               Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loath’d the feast:
Writhing as one possess’d she leap’d and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks stream’d like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
               Swift fire spread through her veins, knock’d at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense fail’d in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topp’d waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?
               Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watch’d by her,
Counted her pulse’s flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cool’d her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirp’d about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bow’d in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Open’d of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laugh’d in the innocent old way,
Hugg’d Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks show’d not one thread of grey,
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
               Days, weeks, months, years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town):
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
“For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.”
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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow, Part 2: Eat Me!– Corporal Cakes and Ale

“May you never hunger.”

Food and sex have always been linked for me. I love licking things off of flesh, letting the natural human salt taste mingle with the flavors of the edible. I also have certain types of food that I like after sex. I like low alcohol content beverages (like beer or wine), something salty, something greasy, and some sort of protein–preferably something raw or rare. For example, beer, super rare steak, runny eggs, and heavily buttered toast is the perfect post orgasm meal for me. I think it has to do with the primal urges that are evoked during sex and our body’s natural urge to replace spent calories. It also helps me to ease down slowly from the endorphin high, instead of crashing down quickly with unpleasant emotional turmoil.
In Wicca, and in some other Pagan religions as well, there is the practice of cakes and ale. Traditionally the cakes were actual cakes that were blessed and then passed around with the sentiment, “May you never hunger.” However, now it’s any sort of food. In many groups, one person will feed the person next to them as they say the wish, and on around the circle. To balance it out, a communal cup is often passed, with once again one person holding it while the other person drinks from it as the cup bearer whispers, “May you never thirst.” While these two wishes are rooted in the not so distant past when survival was not certain due to a very probable lack of food and liquid, the custom of feeding your neighbor and bearing their cup reminds me of a wedding feast, where the bride and groom feed each other and entwine arms for the bridal toast. And in a certain sense it is like a wedding feast. A lot of Wiccan groups, and to a lesser extent other Pagan groups, will plunge an athame into the communal chalice that is about to be passed. Usually (but not always), the athame is plunged by the high priest, while the high priestess holds the cup. This is a very visual but family-friendly version of Hieros Gamos, or Holy Sex (which will be covered more in depth at Beltane).

While sex and food is not an unknown concept to most people (most of us have done body shots or eaten whipped cream off of a partner), and practicing Wiccans are intimately familiar with cakes and ale and perhaps even the more exotic and blasphemous chocolate and coffee rituals, a lot of couples never think to merge the two practices together, even if they engage in regular ritual sex. So, to inspire your rituals and tantalize your taste buds, I’ve compiled an extensive list of foods to whet your appetite.
The Pantry
The most obvious way to incorporate food and sex into your rituals is oral sex. For me, some one performing really nice cunnilingus on me gives me the same feeling I get when I eat a hot, fresh Krispy Kreme doughnut straight from the deep fryer. It can be a lot of fun to reciprocate the favor by sliding a Krispy Kreme Doughnut onto a nice erect penis, and take my mouth and run my tongue….well, I’m sure you can imagine I what I like to do.

Fellatio and cunnilingus are both wonderful ways to eat out the cakes and ale section of a ritual. Orgasms can give your ritual that last extra oomph and are a good way to ground and release extra energy. Plus, semen (and perhaps feminine fluids too) are chocked full of vitamins and nutrients that your body needs. Sex juices are also a very fitting libation to your Deities that will never be rejected (unless you worship a virgin, then just masturbate and offer up your own fluids). To make oral sex extra special, work in tandem and go for 69–a very magical number.

Flavored lubricants can be used to enhance the experience, or you can raid your kitchen for suitable flavors. Unsolidified Jell-o works well, as does jellies, syrups, and live yogurt, particularly if you’re putting flavors in a vagina. I would recommend being careful introducing foreign liquids to your or a partner’s vagina because of the risk of infection. Live yogurt, however, is relatively safe since it can be used to make a home remedy to combat yeast infections. Edible underwear and lingerie, which adds the same sort of excitement as flavored lubricants, can be be made with fruit leather (more commonly known as fruit roll-ups). Some of the commercial fruit leather now come with cut-outs, which can add a sweet cuteness to your ritual. I personally like the ones with star cut-outs because of course my vagina should be the star of the ritual!

Body altars are a fun way to mix sex, food, Paganism, and BDSM. This can be done with just partners, but it’s more fun if it’s in a group situation. First choose a person to be the altar. It’s nice if this person has showered (Eating off dirty people is like eating off of the floor. Unless you’re playing bitch, it’s not a lot of fun.).

It’s ideal if this person is the altar for the entire ritual, as was discussed in the bastinado entry. The possibilities are fairly endless. For beginners, the cakes can be eaten off of the person and body shots (or non-alcoholic juice shooters) can be used for the ale. To make things more interesting and to add in more magic, the body altar can be turned into a cake. Coat the body with frosting and then decorate. Icing can be used to apply sigils

A variation on the body cake idea is a body mandala. A mandala is an intricate, often symmetrical design that is created to be used as a meditation aid with the understanding that it will be destroyed after creation. Often the creation of the mandala is part of the meditation. With a corporal mandala, icing, whipped cream, honey and other syrups, colored sugar and sprinkles, and pretty much anything edible can be placed on the person’s flat body in intricate, symmetrical patterns. Once the design is completed, the participants can engage in a free form meditation that is then continued as the mandala is consumed.
Funky Foodie Blog

When planning out your cakes and ale with a body altar, don’t forget about the supposed aphrodisiac effects of seafood. Oysters, sushi, sardines, and other maritime delights can be put on the menu. If you’re doing a love spell, especially one that invokes Aphrodite, scallops would be an appropriate choice since she rode the waves on a scallop shell. Raw seafood, like oysters, will be covered more in depth in an upcoming entry in this series.
With body altars and mandalas, don’t forget the emotional and spiritual needs of the person whose body is being used. This type of service brings along its own meditations and spiritual insights for the person, and the altar should be encouraged to share his/her experience after or during the ritual.

My favorite way to incorporate food into ritual is through S&M and bondage. Here, as with the other suggestions, there are infinite possibilities and combinations. As the above photo suggests, hot sauce is always a favorite, although beware of putting hot sauce on delicate surfaces as it’s very caustic. However, the capsicum in hot peppers, when ingested, triggers your brain to produce endorphins–the same chemical that is produced during sex and BDSM play.
A sweet way to incorporate some kink with food is with licorice and Twizzlers. There’s a reason why licorice is often described as being in ‘ropes’ or ‘whips’. Long strands of the candies can be used for edible (but not durable) bondage, and the strands sting more than you may imagine. Single strands can be used, like you would a belt, or multiple strands can be used together as an edible scourge. While candy is nice, I usually need something more spicy and stout. Long meat sticks, like Slim Jims, fits this need. Meat sticks have more of a thud than the candy, but are still flexible enough not to break easily. I prefer to use the Jack Links meat sticks because they are a little thicker than Slim Jims, can when applied in rapid succession are strong enough to take your breath away and leave vivid marks.

Food, probably for eternity, has been used as marital aids. Just think about the shape of a carrot or cucumber. Just like shepherds with their sheep, I hear that vegetable farmers, particularly watermelon farmers, enjoy a little veggie love from time to time. One of my readers, when she learned of my research into this field, directed me to Homemade Sex Toys.com . This site has a plethora of ideas and how-tos. I’ll be reviewing the full blog in a future entry.
Language of Flower correspondences for fruits, vegetable, herbs,nuts, and spices
Allspice,  Compassion          AlmondIndiscretion                    AppleTemptation
BasilHatred                     Currants,  You please all                Corn,  Riches
CitronIll-natured beauty, sadness                                         ClovesDignity
Saffron,  Mirth                    FigProlific                                 FilbertReconciliation
FennelWorthy of all praise, Strength                                    GooseberryAnticipation
LettuceColdheartedness            LemonZest                       MintVirtue
MushroomSuspicion                  OreganoBirth                    Plum,  Privation
PersimmonBury me amid nature’s beauties                          ParsleyFestivity
PomegranateFoolishness                   Pineapple,You are Welcome, You are perfect                    
Peach,  Your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled                     PearAffection
RaspberryRemorse                        RhubarbAdvice                         RocketRivalry
RosemaryRemembrance                Strawberry,  Perfect goodness
SageEsteem, Health                     SpearmintWarmth of sentiment            ThymeActivity
TurnipCharity                               TruffleSurprise                                   WalnutIntellect

As with any sort of S&M and or sex ritual, be responsible.  Use safe words and condoms and respect boundaries.  No under aged participants or spectators.  Outdoor sex should be on private property.  Bondage should allow for blood flow.  If you break skin, use first aid to treat it and clean your equipment properly.  And for heaven’s sake, avoid the spine and kidney area!

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Squeeze My Melons and Plow My Furrow, Part 1: Falling In–The Perils of Dumpster Diving

Unless a last minute Voodoo interview comes through, the “Blessed Be Thy Feet” series is over. I know that some of you are tired of feet but that some of you will be sad to see them walk away. The next series that I am writing (with other fun stuff interspersed) may seem a little too granola for the appetites of some of you, but it give a chance. This series may turn out to be grittier than you anticipate.

I have a confession to make. A lot of my food comes from dumpsters. In fact the fruit bar that I’m munching on right now came from a dumpster. No, my food is not rotten, but it has been discarded. I’m occasionally part of a loose, unofficial network of folks who watch for inventory turn over in stores, gather up the discarded inventory outside of the store, and then distribute it to folks. I’ve always loved discarded treasures, and as everybody’s economic situation has started to suck, many other people are discovering just how much waste is out there for the taking if you can put aside the connotations that our nation has with the word “dumpster.”
While homeless people do dumpster dive, a growing number of the dumpster divers in urban and suburban areas are people who have homes and even jobs but who are opportunistic. Then there are the Freegans. “Freegan” is a marriage of “free” and “vegan”. These folks don’t eat meat or animal products and feel that things should be as free as possible. Basically, if you’re willing to lower your standard of living to the level that most of the world’s population lives at, then in America you can usually survive on free, found food and items, and you have unlimited free time to be a Communist and give back to the community. The Communist part isn’t quite accurate, but you get the picture. The Freegans have been instrumental in educating the public in the laws about discarded items, organizing meet-ups and scavenging groups, and being public advocates for squatters’ rights. Their website is an invaluable source for anyone curious about dumpster diving and partaking of all the free food left behind stores.
Some Freegans and non-affiliated dumpster divers are Pagan. As the Rede says, “An it harm none, do what thou will,” and acquiring free food fits right in with this belief. In most localities, items left in a dumpster or by a dumpster is seen as discarded and no longer the property of the entity that discarded it. So, in other words, you’re not stealing. The only exception to this is in fenced in areas. Even if the police do not arrest you for stealing, they can arrest you for trespassing in fenced areas.

One such Pagan is Glen, who started dumpster diving thirteen years ago when a friend took him along for a dive. The proceeds from the sold items that were scavenged from that first dive were used to pay the rent for the friend’s Pagan supply shop. After his dumpster cherry was popped, Glen went dumpster diving several times a year, but during the economic collapse of the last three years, he has increased his activity to once or twice a week.
Not only was Glen hit hard by the failing economy, but so were the people around him, Pagan and non-Pagan. “I saw that a lot of the stuff I was getting I could help people with.” That’s when his private distribution program started.
According to Glen, the best places to look for discarded merchandise are major chain department stores that do not have a trash compactor. Other good stores to visit are food stores that are large enough to have the capacity to sustain a loss. Also, be on the look out for stores that have half empty shelves. It is very likely that the store is taking inventory and removing out-of-date or broken merchandise. That merchandise has to go somewhere, and it might as well go in the trunk of your car instead of the landfill.
In addition to finding the right stores to scavenge, Glen admonishes that new divers remember common courtesy. “If a dumpster has a lot of stuff in it, leave some for the next guy. Don’t be greedy.” This courtesy is part of an unspoken code that has enabled him to trade products with other divers.
While many new and potential divers may be worried about 5-0 trouble, as I wrote above, dumpster diving is not illegal in most areas as long as the dumpster area is not fenced in. “I’ve only been approached one time,” Glen admitted,  ”and that was this year by the Belmont Police, but they are scavenger friendly.” They looked through his saved items, but didn’t really hassle him or confiscated anything.

Without Glen’s scavenging, his family and many others would have very lean tables and austere lives. In the last four years, Glen conservatively estimates that he has saved $10,000-$20,000 on food and household products. Recently, he came across six Keurig coffee machines and several hundred pods of coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. One machine alone often sells for a hundred dollars or more. All that was wrong with the machines was that the cords were a little damaged. The damage was easily fixed with electrical tape. The only thing that were wrong with the pods was that someone had opened the packaging in the store but not the pods themselves.
His biggest single haul was worth a little over $3,000 and helped not only his family but 9 other households. Many of the households that Glen distributes food to are in his Pagan group, but some are just folks that others have referred to him. Some of the households helped receive government food assistance, but many of them have head of households that are just employed enough to not qualify for assistance but not employed enough to make ends meet each month. His food distribution has helped bridge that gap.

“I keep in mind my group’s needs and the group member’s needs. I’ll put stuff back [into the dumpster] to be able to take what the members need. I feel like a year-round Befano. I get a lot of joy from seeing the look on people’s faces when they get something they’ve really wanted or needed.”
Because of Glen’s generosity, thriftiness, and intrepidness, I often get to eat really nice meals made up of fresh and dry food items that nobody had to pay anything for more than the price of gas to go and get. I also get to sip my single serving fancy coffee while I shave my legs and other sweet spots with new razors and dry off with warm towels (as if I would have ever in a million years bought either a Keurig coffee machine or a towel warmer!).

How to get started dumpster diving–tips from Glen and others
  • Locate stores that are appropriate for dumpster diving. Please see the above criteria.
  • Always go with a friend or two. This is not only for safety but also because sometimes you need help lifting and loading items.
  • Stay away from buildings that store items outside, like a garden center. Police often view these stores the same way that they view stores with fences. Plus, how easy will it be to prove that you were only taking stuff from the dumpster and not stealing stored merchandise if you’re questioned?
  • If possible, recruit friends who work inside of the stores that you visit. This can be a store employee or someone who is regularly in the store (like independent data collection associates). They can tip you off when the store is trading out old merchandise for new and when the store usually takes items to the dumpster. However, be warned–make sure that you can trust this friend and that you are careful that your actions do not compromise the friend’s job.
  • Drive a vehicle that has either has a trunk or other storage space to haul your finds. Also make sure that all insurance and registration on the vehicle is up-to-date. You want to minimize the things a police officer may hassle you about.
  • Always wear gloves and boots or other closed-toed shoes, and make sure to carry hand sanitizer, flash lights or headlamps, trash grabbers, and a home-made hook. Glen likes to carry a golf club with a hook attached.
  • Pick well lit dumpster areas. Going to dark places looks suspicious.
  • Establish a route and a regular time. Working a regular route is advantageous because the folks watching you (and there are always folks watching you) will get use to seeing you and realize that you are not a thief or a vandal. The same applies for choosing a regular time. You can go at night, which is what Glen does, or you can go during the day, which is what his father-in-law does. If you go during the day or shortly after closing, you are more likely to find discarded refrigerated items that are still good. Unopened milk is usually good several days after the use-by date. Packaged cheese is usually good several months after its date.
  • Develop a good sense when to be honest and when to fib. It’s usually advantageous to be up front with police officers, but it’s often best to fib to store personnel who may catch you in the act. The line, “This ____________ is for my pets (or rescued animals),” is a good one to remember. Some times if they think you are trying to save on pet food, they are willing to let you know when they discard certain items.
  • Don’t be afraid to use magic in your scavenging. Shielding, camouflage, and invisibility spells and amulets are all helpful, as are protection and abundance spells and charms.