It’s Easter Saturday and it’s time for the witches to fly to Blåkulla, wherever that is. It’s odd how you never stop and ask these questions, but simply accept what you are told.
Maybe I should get out some [veggie] sausages to burn over a bonfire, too.
Here are the two witches I grew up with. They look quite content with life, which I expect is because they haven’t seen the giant chicken behind them…
Although age is beginning to tell. One has lost her kettle (so easily done), and the other has a broom that is more stick than broom. Oh well.