In 2003 I found myself closing another witchy store in another small west coast town. I had a huge, month long, estate sale and sold everything. Everything from the store, everything from my life. I filled my 22' witch wagon with the necessities, some prized books, some store stock to barter along the way, and some personal mementos. My journey was to be 3000 miles at a slow pace that wouldn't wear out my old wagon. I hit the road with the fall chill on my coat tails. The inevitable happened in the Northern California mountains and I found myself camping in a relatives driveway while waiting for engine parts. Two weeks I was stranded in a California driveway during a freak heatwave in a tin box wagon. I walked about town, from shade tree to mountain fed rivers passing the longest of hottest days. I found a decent health food grocery and the coolest second hand bookstore hidden away in an industrial warehouse. The bookstore guy played the best browsing vinyl, had quartz crystal clusters the size of breakfast tables crated in from Brazil (his own mine) and a whole room dedicated to herbals and the mystical arts. Moon, Moon was a book that had been attracting my attention for a couple years. I never bought it for some reason or another, it's big, it's outdated, it's not going to be what I want it to be, blah, blah, blah. This time, in this store, there it was again. And here I was with two weeks to burn and in need of some inspiration. I bought it, paid more than I normally would have, and went home to my little hot tin wagon. This book was amazing. Every page answered a question I had about the moon. Things I'd pondered and was too lazy to research (for years) was right there in my new "old" book. What a joy to read. Pictures of ancient moon goddesses, moon mythology and folklore in other countries, the ancient feminine connection to the moon and her cycles. I continued to read, page by page, and absorb the information. It became my little comforting ritual each day to turn to a new page and let my troubles melt away. My witchy wagon was ready to go while still reading my book so I said my goodbyes and once again continued on my slow journey with a new ritual added to my daily routine. I collected maps and pamphlets from the places I stayed and added them as bookmarks amongst the pages of my book. It was a sad day when I finished the last pages somewhere in Louisiana. I've never had the same experience with any other book, but each of my special books have their own rituals and stories I guess. I've never read another of Anne Kent Rush's books, but this one has joined my collection of books that will always have a place in my wagon wherever life may take me.
