Jul 16
reading outside (because i can do that now!)
i love this bit.
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reading outside (because i can do that now!)
i love this bit.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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“Now bees,” said Granny Weatherwax, “is real magic.”
She carefully lifted the lid of the first hive.
“Your bees,” she went on, “is your mead, your wax, your bee gum, your honey. A wonderful thing is your bee. Ruled by a queen, too,” she added, with a touch of approval.
Equal Rites ~ Terry Pratchett
And so, as the winter turned and started the long, reluctant climb towards spring, Esk spent days at a time with Granny Weatherwax, learning witch craft.
It seemed to consist mainly of things to remember.
The lessons were quite practical. There was cleaning the kitchen table and Basic Herbalism. There was mucking out the goats and The Uses of Fungi. There was doing the washing and The Summoning of the Small Gods. And there was always tending the big copper still in the scullery and The Theory and Practice of Distillation. By the time the warm Rim winds were blowing, and the snow remained only as little streaks of slush on the Hub side of trees, Esk knew how to prepare a range of ointments, several medicinal brandies, a score of special infusions, and a number of mysterious potions that Granny said she might learn the use of in good time.
What she hadn't done was any magic at all.
“All in good time,” repeated Granny vaguely.
“But I'm supposed to be a witch!”
“You're not a witch yet. Name me three herbs good for the bowels.”
Esk put her hands behind her back, closed her eyes, and said: “The flowering tops of Greater Peahane, the root pith of Old Man's Trousers, the stems of the Bloodwater Lily, the seedcases of -”
“Good. You're learning.”
“But it's not magic!”
Granny sat down at the kitchen table.
“Most magic isn't,” she said. “It's just knowing the right herbs, and learning to watch the weather, and finding out the ways of animals. And the ways of people, too.”
“That's all it is!” said Esk, horrified.
“All? It's a pretty big all,” said Granny,
Equal Rites ~ Terry Pratchett
“Look. Magic has a sort of - life of its own. That doesn't matter, because - anyway, you see, wizard magic -” she looked up at his big, blank expression and tried again. “Well, you know cider?”
Smith nodded. He felt he was on firmer ground here, but he wasn't certain of where it was going to lead.
“And then there's the ticker. Applejack,” said the witch. The smith nodded. Everyone in Bad Ass made applejack in the winter, by leaving cider tubs outside overnight and taking out the ice until a tiny core of alcohol was left.
“Well, you can drink lots of cider and you just feel better and that's it, isn't it?”
The smith nodded again.
“But applejack, you drink that in little mugs and you don't drink a lot and you don't drink it often, because it goes right to your head?”
The smith nodded again and, aware that he wasn't making a major contribution to the dialogue, added, “That's right.”
“That's the difference,” said Granny.
“The difference from what?”
Granny sighed. “The difference between witch magic and wizard magic,” she said. “And it's found her, and if she doesn't control it, then there are those who will control her. Magic can be a sort of door, and there are unpleasant things on the other side. Do you understand?”
Equal Rites ~ Terry Pratchett
In the Ramtops witches were accorded a status similar to that which other cultures gave to nuns, or tax collectors, or cesspit cleaners. That is to say, they were respected, sometimes admired, generally applauded for doing a job which logically had to be-done, but people never felt quite comfortable in the same room with them.
Equal Rites ~ Terry Pratchett
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Goats did have names for themselves, she well knew: there was “goat who is my kid”, “goat who is my mother”, “goat who is herd leader”, and half a dozen other names not least of which was “goat who is this goat”. They had a complicated herd system and four stomachs and a digestive system that sounded very busy on still nights, and Granny had always felt that calling all this names like Buttercup was an insult to a noble animal.
Equal Rites ~ Terry's Pratchett
Wizards! They talked too much and pinned spells down in books like butterflies but, worst of all, they thought theirs was the only magic worth practicing.
If you define a witch as one who worships the pancreative urge, that is, venerates the basic - the tree began, and continued for several minutes. Granny Weatherwax listened in impatient annoyance to phrases like Mother Goddesses and primitive moon worship and told herself that she was well aware of what being a witch was all about, it was about herbs and curses and flying around of nights and generally keeping on the right side of tradition, and it certainly didn't involve mixing with goddesses, mothers or otherwise, who apparently got up to some very questionable tricks. And when the tree started talking about dancing naked she tried not to listen, because although she was aware that somewhere under her complicated strata of vests and petticoats there was some skin, that didn't mean to say she approved of it.
Equal Rites ~ Terry Pratchett