It’s the time of the year when I start thinking about the more witchier side of life and the name Nicneven and Hecate starts to be whispered of. Wrapped in warm blankets,  looking out across to Fife and beyond as the grey clouds stream past, the apple trees shaking free their russet, yellow and golden leaves and sweet steam from my tea fogging up the window as it warms my hands. I always feel that Scotland is ideally itself in this Autumnal weather, there’s something that seems to suit it, the land stands proud as it loses it’s summer gloss,