Granny Dank

Granny Dank Hair & Perfume Oil Rusty heirloom apples packed with cannabis, wreathed in a haze of burning sage, chamomile, & smooth santal In a deep pocket of the rambling woods, there is a house. Well, not so much a house, as a house-shaped jumble of fallen trees, overgrown with brambles and twisted vines, beloved by all the birds & woodland creatures that dart in & out of its shadows. There is an old, ornate rug hung across the semblance of a doorway, and scrubby herbs planted in broken crockery ramble up bundles of branches tied into rough arbors. There is another witch in these woods, one you go to when your heart is hard & full of claws, sharp and feral. In this grove, green and alive, is the witch you come to when you need to float for a while on herb-laced smoke, to fly & forget, to share an apple pipe with one who has seen the world burn and been there to tend the seeds as they push through the ashes after the first rain of spring.