The Weather Spoon
This is the text of “The Weather Spoon” written by Mary the Goddess of All Research. Please enjoy and comment if you like it.
Once, there was a magic wand that wasn’t.
The witch who created it loved air and water. She adored all kinds of water and air, every sort of weather. It was her special magic.
She loved to cook too because she didn’t make a magic wand, she made a weather spoon!
Now as we all know, every witch goes to school to learn. The final test, before she is given her diploma of witchery is to make her very own magic wand.
But when she made her especial wand, it turned into a spoon, and not just any magic spoon, oh no, it was a weather spoon.
Well, you can imagine the excitement, the arguing that started. “She’s going to fail!” “You’re wrong!” “That’s not a wand!” “It’s suppose to be hers, it is a magic wand.” “Should it count?” “Should she graduate?”
On and on, day after day, that that spoon was all the school could talk about it.
Finally, the principal of the whole school, a witch so old she had no other name than “Principal”, had to decide. No one else seemed to be up to the task.
The Excitement! The Suspense! Days of arm waving, fierce whispers, and yelling would soon be over, but WHEN?
Finally the doors to The Office of the Principal creaked open. (They only used the front door for very important solemn and special occasion and someone forgot to oil them.)
The head of the school slowly tottered through them and waited.
Quiet rolled like a wave through the waiting crowd.
The assistant principal glared and most unnecessarily cleared her throat and said, “Quiet!”
If you had dropped a pin at that moment it wouldn’t have dared to make a noise just then. This was real quiet, not a fidget, or squirm in sight.
The Principal looked around slowly and nodded.
“After much study and deliberation it is decided.”
There was a sudden intake of breath from the assembly and I mean everyone. It was a school wide gasp.
Undisturbed, The Principal then said, “Student, come forward.”
No one had to ask which student, who student, they all knew who and witch and an aisle opened so she could go forward.
She was rather small and round. Her dark hair appeared to have been styled with a small cyclone. Her robes provided by at least two different typhoons.
When she reached the Principal she curtsied. All of the students curtsied to teachers and staff, it was in the rules.
Magically, the weather spoon, magic wand, whatever it was appeared in the Principal’s hands.
“What,” she asked, “are the criteria for judging a wand?” People gulped afraid she was expecting someone to answer the question. The teachers were always asking questions like that to make you think.
“First,” she continued, “it must be suited to its use and its user.” People sighed in relief. It was a rhetorical question and no one had to answer them.
“Second,” she went on, “It must be functional.” People nodded; yes that was the second rule all right.
“Third,” people settled in, this would take a while, “it must show a certain amount of available power.” They nodded at each other; this was safe familiar ground, always a good thing when discussing magic.
“Fourth,” The Principal looked around, “It must be constructed of natural materials.” That’s right some murmured no trashy flash for us.
“Fifth,” the student may ask questions, but only she is allowed to construct it.” That’s right, agreed the crowd, no cheating in making your wand.
“This implement,” and here she flourished the spoon, meets all the criteria. The student graduates!
The Principal bowed and handed the weather spoon to the student.
“Congratulations my dear! What name will you choose?”
Another tradition of the school was that each witch picked her own witch name.
Another collective gasp broke out! Unprecedented again! This must be some student! This had never happened before.
What usually happened was pretty simple. Students chose different names throughout their years at school until finally, one day their friends and teachers called them by a certain set of names.
This generally happened as the student was making their magic wand. Not our student@ if you laid out all the names she had chosen over the course of her time at school it would look something like this:
Lady, these witches were always called lady when they were full grown and graduated, Lady ArabellaChocolateRaphaellaCupcakeCloudPancakesandEggsStratusGloriellaCirrusBreezeWillowWindBlueSkyOatmealStormNimbusHurricaneSyrupAuroraBoreaSpaghettiAustralisFohnEggrollTyphoonTwisterHamandCheeseMacaroni, well I could go you but you get the idea.
A smile lit her rather plain face and she announced to everyone “Windcloud Cook, but you can call me Windy.”
Murmurs broke out all over the crowd. “Lady Windy? Windcloud? Isn’t that a bit much? Cook? Was she going to open a restaurant? What kind of name is that?”
Then, slowly, as they looked at her hair, her clothes, her spoon It made sense. They began nodding at her and each other.
Yes, she had the right name and from then on she was Windcloud to some, Windy to others, Cook to still others, but she was always, exactly her.
Windy stayed at the school, learning more about cooking in the kitchen and weather and consequences in advanced classes.
Oh? Didn’t you think there would be consequences with magic? There are consequences with everything that you do and don’t do. But that’s another story.
Joy
Joy is a Seax-Wican Priestess, a Druid and a Witch. She owns Erin's Journal and is present on a lot of places, most notably Tumblr, Dreamwidth and some email forums. She's co-host of Magical Musings podcasts.
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