Sacred wild weavings from the road of being a girl steeped in patriarchy and religion, finding her way home.
The Violet Hour
My writing:
I am an artist, healer, intuitive, weaver witch, magic fairy gardener, zoophilist, mama, professional photographer and author.
These wanderings are my wisdom from the rearview window of an old dodge dart and the meandering tales of moving 69 times. The realities of living in a female form haunted and hunted by men. A body full of desire and a heart resting in a forest.
The Violet Hour
essays by jen from substack
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Hands off my Ass
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Mountains
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Safe House
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Baking a Life Cake
The mountains rose as giants
reaching their shoulders into the sky
I watched in awe
out the backseat windows
as we drove through hollers
covered in swaths of
green leaves so thick
they were curtains
you couldn’t peek behind
— From “Mountains” by Jen Dean
The Violet Hour
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