When we last left the Libation of Primal Summer, it was seeping with dark seduction under the watchful eye of my Underworld Altar. While the Temple Witch has already described in delicious details the entire event that this cordial lead to. But this is my blog so it’s only fair that I get to have my say 😉
Once again Temple Witch came over to Fort Epic (yep that’s the name of my house, I like to enjoy myself and naming things amuses me.) and we cackled devious, thrummed our fingers with excitement, and smacked our lips. The first step was to get the fruit out of the bottle and separate it from the liquor. For this I used the SUPER advance technology of a colander, a pot, and a wooden stick lol. The fruit had all turned this deep rich wine red and smelled FANTASTIC!
It did not however taste fantastic, lol. Not at all. Our delightful plans to sit around eating drunken fruit got laughed away. That fruit was SOOOO freaking strong. All the sugar and all the sweet goodness was in the liquid. Which since our overall goal was to have a mind bending soul singing brew, we were ok with that.
It became apparent that we needed a second sieve in order to get out the seed and pulp. In the future I will invest in some cheese cloth. But we are nothing if not inventive. I had a very loose thin weave silk scarf, it was my grandmothers, and it was white. But I thought even if the liquid stained it permanently it would be dyed in the juices of Primal Summer and that was excited. Interestingly the scarf wasn’t stained at all after being rinsed in cold water.
The silk scarf was a perfect strainer, got out a lot of pulp. Leaving nothing but a wonderful sinfully red cordial. At this point Temple Witch and I had decided we needed to make brews for every major occasion lol. Add but a few ladles of liquid honey to adjust the sweetness and viola! To the bottles!
Contained in that little stopper bottle, is all the mystery and wonder of summer. It is the blood that rushes through the veins when the hunt is on. The baying of the hounds, the fox through the glen. The stag on the hill. It is the thundering of the herd, and the gentle chatter of the birds. It’s the frenzy in the sun. The sweat. The blood. It’s the moon on the hills through full oak trees. It’s the splash of the river, and the fullness of the lake. The crash of the ocean under the tuneless song of the gulls. The look that speaks volumes. Skin on skin. The sensation of touch. Skin on grass, on sand, on dirt. Breath deep, dig deeper. Run faster, love more, live bigger.
To hold that in your hand, to release that in your soul. That is medicine for the heart.