The Hallowed Nook

01/01/2026

For the Year turning ~ Good health in the Body, Good fortune at the Door and What is Needed, When it is Needed.

21/12/2025

❄️✨️Winter Solstice ✨️❄️

The dark is long
But the hearth is lit.

Rest here
The turning will come.

-The Hallowed Nook

05/12/2025

Meant to write a Krampusnacht post.
Instead I accidentally became folklore.
Anyway 😉 if a goat knocks on your door tonight, answer politely.
It’s boundary-auditing season.

04/12/2025

🌕❄️🌕❄️🌕

Tonight’s Cold Moon wears a ring, and in folklore that’s never just decoration. A visible circle around the moon, sometimes called a “weather crown,” was read as a sign that the air was shifting and that change was on the way. Farmers took it as a hint of rain or snow. Wytches and cunning folk read it a little differently, seeing it as movement in the unseen and a reminder to pay attention to what stirs at the edges of things.

This one is also a supermoon, appearing slightly larger and brighter as it travels closer to the Earth. Folklore has always given unusually bright full moons an extra layer of influence, as though their presence amplifies whatever is already ready to shift. Not dramatic or chaotic, simply heightened. A brighter moon tends to bring things into focus.

The Cold Moon marks the final turning point of the year, and with a ring around a supermoon the message becomes clearer: something is aligning. Paths settling. Truths surfacing. The kind of natural recalibration winter is known for.

If you see the ring tonight, take it as an invitation to notice what’s changing, both in the weather and in your own inner landscape. Folklore always began with observation, and this is one of the sky’s oldest signals.

30/11/2025

Whispers of Evergreen Resolve ~ Pine Folklore & Winter Magick 🌲❄️✨️

In the stillness of Winter, pine keeps its vow of evergreen flame.
A guardian tree, it held fast at doorways and crossroads, warding off malice and guiding wanderers through the frost.
Its needles sang in the cold wind, cutting through confusion, while its resin burned bright to cleanse and protect.
A spirit that stands when all else retreats.. the one that refuses to dim beneath the snow.

22/11/2025

🗝 Growth is never comfortable ⏳️ change comes for us all

31/10/2025

⏳️ The Wytches of the Thirteenth Hour ⏳️

(A Samhain Lullaby for the Tender-Dark)

We’re Wytches of the Thirteenth Hour ~ woo-oo
Streets lie hushed of all things seen ~ woo-oo
Time weaves threads through liminance,
The night hums low; the shadows dance,
We’re Wytches of the Thirteenth Hour ~ woo-oo

We keep the lanterns in the mist ~ woo-oo
Their glow a vow the dark permits ~ woo-oo
Every flame a soul the dusk once kissed,
Each spark a dream the dark reflects,
We’re Wytches of the Thirteenth Hour ~ woo-oo

The dawn creeps pale along the ground ~ woo-oo
Crows take flight, no trace, no sound ~ woo-oo
The smoke curls thin through cold-stilled air,
Of what we are, none know, few dare,
We’re Wytches of the Thirteenth Hour ~ woo-oo

The Hallowed Nook
Words © 2025 Liadán Hallow
Inspired by a fragment of a 1970s children’s rhyme, “We’re Witches of Halloween.”

16/10/2025

🍂🌺 Whisper of Ember & Resolve 🌺🍂

~ Where resilience learns to bloom again ~

Beneath the waning sun the dahlia stands, velvet-faced and secretive amid the fading green.
Born of storms yet unbowed, she blooms in beauty that borders on a warning.
In cottage lore she was kept for courage through the lean months,
her roots stored deep against frost, her flame-bright petals defying the dusk.
She reminds us that grace can be fierce, and that strength need not shout to be seen.

🗝 Her whisper this week: 🗝

Stand tall in your colours, even when the world dims.

The Hallowed Nook

10/10/2025

⏳️💀 The Road Remembers 💀⏳️

I lent her steel and trusted flame,
she drove off cloaked in borrowed name.
The lanes will whisper what she’s done;
a wytch’s road obeys no one.

The brambles know her scent and tread,
the crows will crown her guilt in red.
Each mile she makes, the mile will ache,
and echo truth for balance’s sake.

Let petrol sour, let mirrors crack,
let every turning lead her back.
For what she claimed was never hers,
a wytch’s calm, the key that stirs.

When dusk grows teeth and engines wane,
the road will hum my name again.
I stand where the lanterns burn,
illuminating truths she’ll never learn.

So speak the lanes, so hums the tar;
the wytch recalls what once was far.

07/10/2025

🍁🍂 Whisper Of Blood & Sleep 🍂🍁

Where grief & love take root again ~

Beneath the turning fields, the poppy blooms in the hush between worlds.
Sacred to Demeter, it flowered where her tears fell for Persephone,
a crimson echo of grief and love that endures through shadow.
Its petals fall like silent prayers along the barrow paths,
whispering that all endings are but the dark roots of return.

The Hallowed Nook

01/10/2025

Some words are caught, not made. This one came to me on October Eve, whispered in the mist. I thought it belonged to the old craft, but it was new.
This is its first record: Liminance. A word for the glow that carries us through shadow.
✨️⏳️✨️⏳️✨️

A Word born in the October fog. Liminance (noun): the dim glow carried through liminal spaces. Not a light that banishes the dark, but one that shows only the steps meant for you. First spoken at The Hallowed Nook, October Eve 2025.

29/09/2025

Everyone else can sip their spice. I’ll keep my pumpkins on the sill, where they glare properly at the night.