You probably make offerings to your deities, at least on holy days. I make offerings at the new moon, full moon, and waning moon. (I generally consider the full moon influence to last an entire day.) I make offerings when I ask for something. The offerings are usually coins, small objects, crystals, stones, flowers, drawings, wine, whiskey, or milk. This depends upon the deity (Rhiannon or The Morrigan, although both like stones, crystals, and objects like a piece of jewelry.) What do you do with your offerings when it’s time to remove them from your shrine or altar?
In my back yard, there’s a small boulder that has slowly sunk into the ground over decades. Only the top is still visible. It’s between a dead dogwood tree covered with fungi and a cypress tree with ivy growing up it. The first spring grape hyacinths come up by the boulder. That little corner of the yard has a nice witchy vibe.
I’ve buried physical objects around the boulder. Since I have two Matrons, I “divided” the boulder in half by writing an R in chalk on one half and an M on the other half. If I use whiskey as an offering to The Morrigan, I pour it on Her half of the stone. I buried a drawing of a crow next to the stone . . . and we seem to have so many more lately. I offer wine to Rhiannon. I also scatter cold incense ash around the stone, and herbs that I use in rituals. Sometimes I pour birdseed and sunflower seeds around the stone because both Goddesses are associated with birds.
I had been happily visiting my Witchy Spot all summer and fall. The house next door was empty. That side of the house is the best: dogwoods and crepe myrtles on the property line, shade, thick patches of clover, masses of violets in spring. Now we have neighbors. Their back door and car port face my spot. I know they’ve seen me, and because I live in a tiny, conservative town, I now have to have an explanation of why I’m doing something harmless on my property, at least 30 feet from the property line. I had to think up a lie just in case because if I say, “I’m Wiccan, and I’ve designated this area of my property as a place to worship my Goddesses . . . .” Well, you can imagine.
My lie is: when I was a child I had a kitten that was hit by a car, my grandfather buried it by the boulder, and I go there because I think about the kitten a lot because the boulder is sinking into the earth and vanishing.
Life should not be that way, but it is if you’re not “normal.”