The King and Queen of Goats

My mind is more settled now. I spent an hour meditating on what Hermaphroditey had conveyed to me after the nightmare of my previous post. It’s not all about you, Aisselle, were the words she had spoken silently in my left ear. And somehow, while I was contemplating the meaning of this insight, the past came creeping slowly back in a little scene of childhood on a small screen in my mind’s eye.

Picture this: my witchy mother, Henna, telling me stories by the light of many candles arranged in a circle in our garden at Halloween. A multitude of moths flitter round our heads as we sit in the centre by a small fire with the cauldron bubbling away merrily, the delicious Otherworldly smell of hot chocolate swirling under our noses, and she is speaking of long ago ceremonies in a forest that was new, even though the trees were very tall, and of her friends who could work magic. She said their leader was a man called Gerald, who was a bit of an old goat (I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I didn’t ask), and how they would all dance about and drink special wine and have fun.

I think that was when I had my very first vision, for suddenly, like deja vu all over again, I saw him anew, sitting on the throne with grapes growing all around it and laughing like a goat that has just done something very wicked that nobody else knows about yet. He wasn’t in the forest that was new this time though, but on top of a hill with clouds all around, a pentacle propped up beside him. I waited for him to do something, but he just kept laughing.

The scene fades to be replaced by another. Seven goats surround a barefoot lady dressed in blue gingham. She seems to be examining the leg of one who has placed it across her knees. At first I thought it must be me, but then the truth rushed in like a billy goat to a field of nannies. Her younger self turned to me and said, Look carefully, Aisselle, it is I, your mother, Henna! You are of me, and I am of the Earth. So I looked closely at her face and it was indeed her!

I waited, but she faded and no more visions came. So I decided to record the fruits of my meditation in two new cards for my Grand Ellessia Tarot, the King and Queen of Goats.

I finished the cards and sat looking at them. It was almost as if I’d left something out, or that the cards were trying to tell me something. And as I type this a terrible thought steals into my head. If Gerald and Henna were the King and Queen of Goats…

Perhaps Hermaphroditey was wrong – perhaps it is all about me.

I have to find Henna…

More later (hopefully), wish me luck.

Blessings, Aisselle.


Autumn Days…

The colder nights and mornings seem to have had the effect of slowing everything down. Even Jay, who usually rises with the Sun to tend to the animals, lingers beneath the duvet until Leon wakes at the end of our bed and stands, front paws on his chest, wanting to go out. We move about like a pair of fishes swimming though cold yogurt, dressed in our warmest pullovers, until Jay lights the little stove. It’s good to know that Tea has finished spinning the yarn from the goats and is busy knitting us all new ones. She has taken far longer than expected to complete the spinning, but she does seem to spend much of her time here drinking tea with Heth.

The appearance of the Sun over the little hill warms things up quickly though, and we soon feel our old youthful selves again. Yesterday I stopped to listen to a robin singing joyfully in a beautiful hawthorn tree covered in bright red berries, brilliant against the blue blue sky. I hope for the sake of the wild ones that does not mean the coming winter will be hard.

We have so much to be thankful for, Jay and I. To celebrate, I created a new card for my Grand Ellessia Tarot. It will serve to remind me to worry less and make the most of these Autumn days together in this lovely place with all the animals, wild and domestic, around us.

Blessings to you all,


On the King and Queen of Certificates…

You see before you the King of Certificates, high on his firebird throne. As you know, the firebird is both a bringer of doom and a blessing, which is fitting, as (like all the court cards), this king can represent a real person, and indeed he does. It may seem strange when I tell you how he came to be on this card. To this person I owe my very existence as an ethical tarot reader. For this is Alex, whose advertisement I noticed on ebay when looking for goats.

He was offering tarot certificates in return for eight pounds and an essay on various aspects of the tarot, including history and all sorts of other things. I sent off my carefully crafted essay with the eight pounds and awaited my lovely certificate with the greatest anticipation, but to my horror and dismay an email arrived refusing to certify me on the grounds that I was not ethical! I was distraught and went into a spiral of distraction. Goodness knows where I’d have ended up if Alex had not replied to my email begging him to reconsider his verdict with yet another refusal and an email detailing all the ethics that my essay seemed to have contravened.

Dear Reader, I went into retreat, taking this terrible list with me. The following weeks were spent sleeping in the orchard with the many goats and other animals at the old place, meditating and living on apples and goat’s milk. It was cold at night so I’d been snuggled up to Baphomet for warmth and smelled rather strongly of billy goat. I needed a bath and a cup of nettle tea so I came at last to the conclusion that I must abandon my old ways to the pit of doom and become ethical.

Back at the house, clean and refreshed, I set to work and made seven tinfoil hats. Then I created The Order of the Tin Foil Hat Ethical Tarot Certificate, and awarded it to myself. I began this, my very own blog, to connect to my clients and followers, and from that day I have never looked back.

Thank you Alex, you are truly the King of Certificates.

And here am I, Aisselle AT Gabegie, in my very finest tin foil hat, the Queen of Certificates in all her glory. (My thrysus may be very slightly bent, but notice how much larger and greater than Alex I appear.)

Blessings be upon your ethical kingly head, Alex, (wherever you may be), and please feel free to contact me if you’d like to become a member of the Ethical Order of the Tin Foil Hat and I’ll see what I can do.

Written in love and peace,


Creature Comforts

Knight of Goats

A beautiful warm bath has restored me to my fully spiritual self. I only desire what some people call creature comforts in times of extreme privation, but perhaps it’s not wise to become too used to such luxury. I returned to the caravan to find a note from Jay propped up on the little red teapot on the shelf by the stove – I had been so cold and wet and longing for warmth that I’d missed it earlier. I unfolded the sheet (torn from an old school book found in the barn) and read the words with some dismay.

Dearest Aisselle, I have been called away to escort Bert’s stud goat to a farm 22 miles from here. The poor boy dislikes any form of wheeled transport and refuses all attempts to get him into one, so has to be walked the whole way there and back. I’d have waited for you to come out of the orchard but it’s an urgent matter as the nannies are lined up waiting for him and we’re not sure how long it will be before they get fed up and disperse to the farm boundaries and have to be collected again.

It will take us a couple of days to get there by the fields and footpaths, but if we’re in time Sid’s job should be successfully completed overnight and we’ll be able to head back the following day (if he’s not too tired). I hope your time in the orchard was worth it.

Missing you, (although hopefully Sid and Leon should keep me warm at night in whatever barn we find to shelter in).

Love Jay

So it seems that Jay will have his own ‘retreat’ just as I return from mine – how strange is Life!
All alone, without even Leon to keep me company, I pictured Jay on his epic journey (but at least he has creature comforts, even if they are literal ones!) and created a new tarot card – the Knight of Goats. I’d have included Leon but he’s never still for long and is usually off rounding up rabbits and practising agility by dashing through and under gates and fences, so you’ll have to imagine him. Come back to me very soon dear Jay bird.








Till when,


A Spinning Yarn…

8 of Goats

On Sunday Tea arrived in answer to my call for help in the last post. We went straight to the barn to look at the old spinning wheel, but she shook her head and said it would be easier if we used hers, whereupon she flew back to her little car and took it from the boot. It seems she is now living on a caravan site not far from here, which information filled me with foreboding, as Hermaphroditey is quite clear regarding extraneous and possibly negative energy disturbing our precious connection, and has threatened to leave if the three (Herself, Myself, and Jay) become four in any way (she doesn’t include the animals as she says their energy is helpful, if not strengthening).

We took the spinning wheel to the farmhouse as it was too hot to work outside, and Tea showed me how to thread the wheel, manage the treadle and hold the strands while twisting. I have to say that it was not easy, even to one with my varied talents, and I became rather cross, especially as Tea seems to think I will be her apprentice and says it will take the full seven years of traditional apprenticeship before I become skilled enough to manage on my own.

So I asked her to show me once again and while she was busy I slipped away and created a new card for The Grand Ellessia Tarot from a photo Jay took of my first attempt at spinning. You can see it below.


As for Tea, when I went back to see how she was getting on I found her chatting to Heth over a gin and tonic, a lovely ball of spun mohair on the table beside her. I left them to it and returned to Jay and Leon. I do hope she doesn’t get on too well with Heth, Goddess knows where that could lead…

Till Soon,

Love and light,  Aisselle


6 of Tinfoil Hats

A recent post on this, my very own blog, made me recall the day Jay and I and little Leon and Nu left the old place and took to the road. The caravan is small, and we had to leave almost everything behind and trust that George and Minet would take care of the old place and the creatures. It was a happy day, but I was apprehensive too, as you can see from the card, although when painting it I forgot that Leon was only a puppy at the time and have drawn him larger than life looking out of the little window at the back (he was standing on the bed). Nu, the lovely nanny who came along to give us milk, is sitting up front next to Jay, and Hermaphroditey was hovering in the aether just above the stove. Leon still seems to stay well away from her just as he did then.

As for the tinfoil hats, I tied them by string to hooks on the back and they’re flying behind us as we rattle along (it was a windy day). As soon as the old place was out of sight I went to sit up front with Jay and Nu but unfortunately by the time we came to a stop there was not a sign of them, only six lengths of dusty string trailing along the ground. Luckily I’d remembered to bring a roll of aluminium foil so I set to work and made some more.

The rain seems to have deserted us again, in spite of Jay’s invocation, but the grass is peeping green once more and the goats nibble merrily in the field.

I have been struggling to master the old spinning wheel, I have removed the dust and spider webs, given it oil and tried to work out its Old Way of working but have now retired hot and bothered with strands of mohair on my lovely blue gingham and fluff in my hair and nostrils. I think the only way forward may be though Spirit. I do not have a contact number for Tea, but she offered once to spin for us, so I will call on Hermaphroditey to work her magic and prompt Tea to read this post.

Tea, dear, if you’re reading this this please come and teach me to spin (although you cannot live here for reasons mentioned in an earlier post on Readings).


Till when,


The Weatherman

The Moon

I woke this morning at dawn to a strange clattering sound, and lay still for a moment wondering whatever it could be. I looked to see if Jay was awake so I could ask him, but on the pillow next to mine was a shaggy black and white head with a pointed nose and a glimpse of long canine teeth tips – Leon of course, who will creep into bed beside me if Jay is absent.

Fully awake now, it came to me that what I was hearing was rain – blessed rain to revive the poor dried up grass and the thirsty trees. I sent silent thanks to the old gods of the Earth and Sky. But what of Jay? Where could he be? Then I remembered that he’d been talking a lot on his mobile thing yesterday – something about getting himself ready and no guarantees – and I realised that he must have spent the dark hours invoking Ambisagrus, God of Wind, Rain and Hail.

Jay’s services as a weatherman are sometimes requested by those few who know of his talents, although he says he will never advertise, preferring a quiet life with yours truly and any animals that might be around. Well, it looks as though the invocation was successful, in spite of last night’s cloudy sky and no sight of the Moon.

Jay reappeared while I was having a delicious breakfast of raspberries, wild honey and goat’s milk yogurt, soaked, shivering and drained of life force only to retire to bed for the day without even a bite to eat. Leon will warm him up. He is such a hot dog and the best bedfellow ever on a cold night, although he kicks and twitches in his sleep almost as much as Jay.

So I spent this morning creating a new card for my very own deck, The Grand Ellessia Tarot of Aisselle Gabegie. The Moon may not have been visible last night, but I decided to put it in anyway as, after all, it was still there, as was the Sun, albeit on the other side of darkness. I do hope you like it, but if not, no matter as I’m very pleased with it.

Love and Rain to you all,

Till Soon,


Cool Goats

Hot again today. It seems to be normal and expected now – Hermaphroditey knows what will become of us when the deluge arrives, as it surely must.

But to get back to the hot goats. Jay had returned from the village with the fruit – two very ripe mangoes and some black grapes. I’d already picked a few blackberries and prepared myself for my mission of mercy. As an afterthought I attached a small bunch of grapes to my hair like the lady on the card (at least I think she’s wearing grapes, although they could be purple flowers, but no matter).

I hadn’t seen Heth for two days, so went to look for him. I found him in the garden at the back of the house, lying under an apple tree on a broken sun lounger in a pair of white Speedos. I couldn’t help noticing that he is almost as hairy as the Devil on the card – in fact the resemblance was even more striking than I expected, as the farmer’s tan (face, neck and forearms) not being present on those parts usually covered, was unable to protect the rest of his exposed skin, which had turned a painful shade of red.

‘What the Hell…?’ he muttered as I closed the gate behind me, taking care not to tip the fruit out of the bowl. I almost laughed at his expression when I told him I’d come to feed him fruit.
‘Fruit?’ he said, ‘What fruit?’ I held the bowl out so he could take what he fancied but he was still staring at my left nipple and didn’t seem to notice.

‘Listen, Heth,’ I said. ‘The lady on the card may have got down on her knees but that’s where I draw the line. I’m ethical now. We’re both keeping cool as best we can but those poor goats are suffering. Let me take the scissors to them or I’ll remove the spotty apron!’ (Jay had brought this back from the village with the fruit and insisted I wear it. He said he had to draw the line somewhere.)

A funny sort of look came into his eyes then, but my will was stronger and in a minute or so he looked away. ‘OK’, he said. ‘You’re a good goat lass and raspberry picker and I wouldn’t want to lose you. Two conditions though. Mind you just use the scissors, and don’t skin the beasts as they need a bit o’ protection from the sun and God knows it might turn cold agin the morrow.’ He was quiet for bit them and I waited. The silence went on so long that I began to wonder if I’d have to take off the spotty apron after all. At last he spoke.

‘I gave up with the shearing when the old girl died. She used to do all the spinning like, and weaving and knitting too. We only kept the few of em cos she liked to be busy and make warm kit for the winter. We niver sold the wool, see, she wouldn’t of liked that. So if you wants to cool the beasts you’ll ave to take up the spinning and knitting too. Annie’s old wheel’s in the barn but it needs a drop of oil I reckons.’

I thanked him and reversed out of the garden (the apron is a bit deficient in the rear area).

Jay and I set to work as soon as I got back, Jay with the scissors while I fed the creatures pieces of fruit to keep them calm. All MuMu’s lovely plaits have gone now, but she and the others seemed much happier and dashed away to the field as soon as the job was done. They’ll never know how the tarot helped to cool them down.

As for moi, I took off the spotty apron and got back into my blue gingham with much relief that things had gone so well. Then I made a feline for the barn.



Hot Goats

Jolanda Reading for the Goats

The hot weather continues here. We have had no rain for about a month – maybe even longer. The poor goats are cooking in their heavy coats, but Heth (the farmer), seems reluctant to let Jay shear them. The poor creatures cannot go on like this. Afflicted with a terrible lethargy they lie in the little wood all day and barely nibble at the dried up grass in the field. I shall retire to the van and do a tarot reading and ask advice as to the best way forward.

Jolande Reading for the Goats

Seven of Wands: A little woman stands with a club and a firebrand within a semi-circle of seven funny trees (unless they’re asparagus spears). She seems to be protecting a lion and a tiger from what might possibly be a bear, but it’s hard to be sure. This tells me that I have to be courageous in order to protect the poor goats from the heat, although the flaming torch seems to be adding to it rather than helping. But anyway, protect the goats I must, even if it means wearing a spotted apron and little else.

The Devil: Dear me, he looks just like Heth the farmer except for the cloven hooves and the red skin. And there are two of the goats, cool at last without their shaggy coats. The answer to the problem is now clear. It looks as though I’m going to have to strip off and feed the old boy with a variety of fruit. It had better not be raspberries as we’ve all picked and eaten enough of those this last week or so – I shall have to send Jay out for something a little more exotic, more fitting to the atmospheric volcano in the background. There is an old pear tree on the farm, but I think the fruit is still a little hard. No matter. As for the chain or whatever around the ankle, I think we can dispense with that. More later. Wish me luck.

Till when,

Love Aisselle

Ace of Certificates

It seems so long ago that I was awarded the prestigious Order of the Tinfoil Hat that I’d almost forgotten all about it. Yet those were testing times, and in a way that milestone was the beginning of a new life for me, and Jay too.

You can read all about my trials and tribs in earlier posts, so I won’t go into too much detail here. It will be enough to say that I am now very ethical and never (well, only in very special cases) take payment in other than cash and material items.

So to celebrate and create a permanent reminder of the day the beautiful certificate was placed in my trembling fingers I have commemorated the event with another card for The Grand Ellessia Tarot of Aisselle Gabegie. I hope you like it as much as I do.

I’ve been very busy on the farm, mostly picking raspberries and trying not to eat too many. I was reminded of dear Baphomet who loved the wild ones that used to grow at the edge of the orchard at our old place – how I miss him and all the other creatures. Perhaps one day we will return, possibly when George and Minet’s spawn have grown and flown. George and Minet will be quite old then, although I will still be 37 (or is it 39?). No matter, I will be forever young.

Love and Blessings to you all,