Mel sat at her scarred oak kitchen table, the surface cluttered with the morning’s harvest. Her hands, stained slightly purple from mashing elderberries, moved with practiced rhythm. Beside her, a cast-iron pot hummed on the stove, releasing the spicy, grounding steam of what she called her —a blend of clove, star anise, and toasted orange peel that made the very walls of her cottage feel like a hug.
She took a long sip of her own tea, tasting the honey and the sharp bite of ginger. The veil was thinning, the harvest was coming in, and Mel Bennett was exactly where she was meant to be. Mel Bennett - Autumn Flavor & Witch Essentials :)
The front door creaked open, and a gust of wind sent a flurry of maple leaves skittering across her floor. It was Elias, the local blacksmith, looking weary. Mel sat at her scarred oak kitchen table,