Dear Diary and Lost Souls,
Cousin Itt, a shaggy presence, accompanied me to the Whispering Oak. Its branches whispered secrets of the ages, and the moonlight cast intricate patterns on its gnarled bark.
As I whispered my questions to the ancient tree, Cousin Itt rustled in agreement. It brought to mind memories of the winter solstice, a time of darkness and renewal, when the moon held sway over long nights.
With the memory of the winter solstice in my heart and Cousin Itt's silent wisdom, I continue my moon-based preparations for Halloween, embracing the cyclical nature of our family's traditions.
Until the morrow, Wednesday