Siobhán Keane’s followers

Cornish sea witch. Tide tables pinned by the door, salt in every pocket, and a bad habit of talking to gulls. Storm-watching is my meditation.

Coven-trained, now happily solitary. Sabbats, circle-casting, and an altar that is mostly cat hair. Twenty-two years under the moon and still learning.

Sophomore, botany major, baby witch with an LED candle (dorm rules!). Learning the plants properly this time, Latin names and all.

Crystal shop owner in the high desert. I'll tell you what a stone means to me, not what it 'cures.' Unapologetic labradorite enthusiast.

Druid of the oak and the drizzle. Welsh learner, hedge-layer, birdsong counter. Awen comes when I stop trying so hard.

Tarot reader in a tiny Brooklyn studio. The cards don't predict, they ask better questions. Coffee-stained Thoth deck, strong opinions about the Tower.

Third-generation rootworker from the Georgia Lowcountry. Psalms, Florida Water, and a swept-clean front porch. My grandmother's ways, carried with care.

Eclectic and proud of it. Thrift-store candles, a mismatched altar, a growing library. Learning which practices are open to me and which to simply admire.

Pagan, forager, Wheel of the Year keeper. Muddy boots, a field guide always in my pocket, and gratitude for every tree I lean on.

Heathen, blacksmith, dad of two. Hailing the ancestors and the land-wights from a very rainy corner of Oregon. Mead is a craft, not a personality.

Anglican contemplative and choir alto. Julian of Norwich keeps reminding me that all shall be well. Centering prayer at 6am, mostly.

Hellenic polytheist. First flame of the day for Hestia, libations on the balcony, and a lot of Homer read aloud badly. Athens-born, Melbourne-based.