Seventh night of Yule

[weofodthignen]

As the sun set, I blóted Erce (Jǫrð, Eorþe), Hreþe and Nerthus in case Tacitus and/or Bede was right, Fjǫrgyn, Ægir, Rán, their nine daughters, and Nehalennia, on the damp grass of the back yard after last night's rain, with the last of the riesling (a generous portion to the landwights this time, as seemed fitting).