Apple Folklore and Magical Properties

November 6, 2024August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

As I write this, the results of the US presidential election are being calculated. I’m trying to do anything other than be uselessly anxious about that all night, so I figured I’d write about a cozier topic to get my mind off of it.
Hence: Apples.

Apples are a traditional food for Samhain. This year, I had originally hoped to save at least an apple or two for us. I went out, covered about half of the young fruits with organza bags I had left over from gifts, and thought I was good to go. There were some for me, some for the local fauna, and everyone should’ve been fine. Then there was a spell of dry weather.
Anyhow, I got no apples, and also the squirrels stole all of my bags.

Then, at Mabon, we were working on masks and costumes for the Council of All Beings. Someone found a dropped googly eye, and I made a joke about them not having natural predators. That’s when it hit me — what if I put googly eyes on the apples?

“They might just attack the apples from the side without eyes,” a friend of mine said.

“I’d put them all around,” I explained. “Biblically accurate apples.”

Anyhow, as the time for various delightful apple dishes approaches (like my favorite, cornbread stuffing with sage, onions, and apples), I figured it’d be a good time to look at their folklore, mythology, and metaphysical aspects.

Apple Magical Uses and Folklore

Jokes about Biblically accurate apples aside, the forbidden fruit of Christian mythology most likely wasn’t a member of Malus domestica. While apples are cultivated all over the world, they originate from Central Asia. The Bible also doesn’t mention the fruit by name — it’s just commonly depicted as an apple as a kind of visual shorthand.
(It’s also a fun bit of wordplay. In Latin, the worlds for both “an apple” and “an evil” are written as malum. Pronounced with a long a, it’s apple. With a short a, it’s evil.)

Photo of an apple and a knife on a blue cloth. — Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

In China, apples are also a source of a bit of wordplay. The funny thing is, it’s almost exactly the opposite to Latin. The word for apple (苹果) and peace (平安) both start with the same sound in Cantonese and Mandarin. As a result, apples are associated with peace.

Apples have a long and varied history in Germanic Paganism. The Norse goddess Iðunn is the keeper of golden apples that give the gods eternal youth. The Poetic Edda details eleven golden apples given to the jötunn Gerðr, as a gift from the god Freyr. In the Völsunga saga, the goddess Frigg sends King Rerir an apple as he prays for a child. Rerir’s wife eats the apple and conceives Völsung. This demonstrates a connection between apples, youth, fertility, and life.
Interestingly, the skald Thorbiorn Brúnarson also mentions “apples of Hel.” Scholar H.R. Ellis Davidson points out that this may indicate that apples were considered the “life-giving fruit of the other world.”

Three striped apples on a branch. — Photo by Julian Kirschner on Pexels.com

There is a similar connection between apples and the Otherworld in Celtic mythology, as well. Manannán mac Lir’s domain, Emhain Abhlach, translates to Isle of Apple Trees and is said to be a place where there is nothing but truth and disease and decay are absent. (Emhain Abhlach may also be where Avalon ultimately derives from.)
In the tale Echtra Cormaic, Manannán gives Cormac mac Airt gifts including a silver branch with apples of gold. This branch made magical music that was said to lull anyone suffering from sickness, injury, or childbirth to sleep.
Another tale tells of Connla, the son of Queen Aife and King Connaught. A fairy woman gives him an apple that, once eaten, becomes whole again. Infatuated with the fairy woman, Connla allows her to take him to the Otherworld where the fruit grows. The otherworldly apples give him everlasting youth, but for a great price: Connla can’t return to the land of the living.

Apples also have a lot of representation in Greek and Roman legend. The most infamous example is probably the Apple of Discord. When the Goddess of Strife, Eris, wasn’t invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, she decided to start some trouble. She threw a golden apple inscribed “For the most beautiful” into the wedding party. Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena all claimed the prize, so Paris of Troy was tasked with selecting a winner. Each goddess offered him a bribe to choose her, but only Aphrodite’s bribe appealed to him — she’d give him the most beautiful woman in the world for a wife.
There was only one problem.
That woman was Helen of Sparta.
And she was married.
Whoops.

close up photography of apple tree — Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

Apples were then considered sacred to Aphrodite and were even used as declarations of love. In the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes, Atalanta challenged all of her prospective suitors to races. If they could beat her, she’d marry them. (Since she was unbeatable, this seemed like a safe bet for her.) Hippomenes knew he’d never be able to outrun her, so he distracted her with three golden apples. With both his speed and his cunning, he barely managed to beat Atalanta and win her hand in marriage.
One of the labors of Hercules also involved retrieving golden apples from the Tree of Life in the Garden of the Hesperides, which creates another link between apples and life.

So, why are these fruits so deeply connected with life? Why do they come from the gods or Otherworld? Part of this might be because they literally came from afar — the ancestor of most of our modern apples came from Central Asia, so it would’ve traveled a great distance to reach the Mediterranean and Northern and Western Europe.
They may be deeply connected with life because they’re honestly pretty durable. They’ve got firm flesh and can last a long time when properly harvested and stored. That makes them an important staple in areas that experience cold winters — you could grow a bunch of apples, keep them in a cold, humid area with good air circulation, and they could last you all winter. Having a source of fresh fruit during the depths of winter could be the difference between life and death.
This may also be part of their connection with fertility. The fruit remains good in storage all through winter, when everything else withers. As a source of food when food is at its most scarce, those who have access to apples would likely experience better fertility than those who didn’t.

If you slice the fruit in half horizontally, the seeds form a pentagram.

Apple wood is considered a good material for tools for working with the fae and the Otherworld.

In modern European-based witchcraft, apples are used for fertility, healing, divination, wisdom, and knowledge. In some traditions, they are used for ancestor veneration and workings related to the dead.

They are said to be associated with the element of Water.

Using Apples

The simplest way to use these fruits is to eat or cook with them, first asking their help with whatever your goal or intention may be. Make your favorite sauce or pie recipe, tell each of the ingredients what you’d like them to do, thank them, and add them to your dish. Stir it clockwise with your dominant hand, serve, and enjoy.

Pies over wooden boards on the ground. — Photo by KATRIN BOLOVTSOVA on Pexels.com

You can also bury apples or place them on an ancestor altar as an offering.

Apples are frequently used for love divination. One old method involves peeling an apple in one continuous piece, then tossing the peel over your shoulder while saying, “Saint Simon and Saint Jude, on your I intrude, with this paring to discover, the first letter of my own true lover.” Look at the shape of the peel when it falls to see your true love’s initial.
Another love divination involves cutting an apple into nine equal pieces and eating them while mirror-gazing. Pierce the last piece with a knife and hold it over your shoulder, and an apparition of your true love may just appear in the mirror to take it.

When it comes to using apples for love magic, the blossoms are usually the best. (They have an amazing fragrance.) They’re seductive, but not overtly so — think of it as a sensual invitation rather than a command. They’re a great addition to a love-drawing bath, as well as baths for success, peace, and relaxation.

Apples aren’t just delicious; they have a lot of magical tradition behind them. They’re the food of the Otherworld, sustenance through the cold of winter, and a fruit of boundless fertility, youth, and eternal life.

Wormwood Folklore and Magical Properties

October 23, 2024August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

Wormwood (Artemisia absinthum) is an African/Eurasian herb and relative of mugwort that’s widely grown in Canada and the US for its ornamental, medicinal, and even magical uses. It’s also a key ingredient in genuine absinthe, and is purportedly why the drink was rumored to cause hallucinations (but more on that in a bit). While the medicinal properties of A. absinthum have since been superseded by other herbs and pharmaceuticals, it’s still a powerful magical ingredient and a beautiful ornamental plant.

Wormwood Magical Uses and Folklore

Wormwood is a very bitter herb, so much so that it’s been used over and over again in literature as a metaphor for bitterness. Shakespeare mentioned it. The Bible mentioned it.
This bitterness may, in part, be a source of its hepatoprotective properties: Bitter herbs are said to trigger the release of gastric juices, including bile from the liver, which helps sort of flush things out. This is why herbal digestifs and digestive bitters became a thing. There’s not a lot of peer-reviewed research on the subject, but bitters have a very long history of safe use as digestive aids.

Wormwood is also one of those magical plants that doubles as a pest repellent. This is something we see pop up over and over. There’s a logical progression from “herb that keeps disease-carrying pests away,” to “herb that keeps all unwanted influences at bay.” This makes wormwood valuable for protection and purification.
Interestingly, I have also seen wormwood listed as an ingredient for spirit calling. I don’t know if I’d use wormwood alone for this, but it certainly seems like it’d be a useful ingredient to make sure you’re calling the right spirits.
(I see parsley mentioned with wormwood pretty frequently, which is funny because it’s another weird one for spirit work. It is listed both as a spirit attractant and repellent, go figure.)

Leaves of a wormwood plant in close up photography. — Photo by Veronica on Pexels.com

This herb also plays a protective role in Slavic lore. The rusalka is an entity, said to be the spirit of a young woman who died by drowning, who is associated with life-giving rain… and, after the 19th century, with madness, death, and trickery.
Carrying wormwood was a way to guard against rusalki. They are said to target young men, so guys were told to carry a sprig of wormwood with them wherever they went. A rusalka would inevitably ask if they were carrying wormwood, or parsley. Say “wormwood,” and she’ll scream and try to flee, at which point you must throw the herb at her eyes. Say “parsley,” and she’ll ensnare, drown, and/or tickle you to death.
(As someone who is a) ticklish, b) hates it, and c) was frequently tickled against my will as a child, I think I’d rather drown.)

Wormwood is also connected to divination. It’s a relative of mugwort and has many similar properties. The two aren’t entirely interchangeable, but you can often substitute one for the other in certain situations. Wormwood’s focus seems to be more connected to protection and purification, while mugwort is more psychic and divinatory.
This herb is sometimes used in love magic, but not as an attractant — its main virtue seems to lie in love divination. There are multiple recipes and instructions for tying wormwood leaves to one’s forehead, placing them under a pillow, or brewing them with other herbs and honey and anointing oneself in order to get a vision of one’s future spouse.

Wormwood is tenuously connected to the Greek goddess Artemis (and Roman goddess Diana) through its name. However, the genus name Artemisia may be a reference to Artemisia II of Caria, and not Artemis directly.
In practice, this herb is considered to be ruled by Mars and Mercury, while Artemis and Diana are Lunar deities.

Wormwood is associated with Fire (which I can certainly see, as it’s a Mars-ruled herb that likes sunny spots and dry ground), but I’ve also seen it listed as an Air plant.

The Myth of Absinthe

Contrary to popular depictions, absinthe wasn’t some kind of magic hallucination juice. Genuine absinthe does use wormwood, which contains the compound thujone. Thujone can, in concentrated form and large doses, cause hallucinations, convulsions, and death, but is present in absinthe in such tiny amounts that it doesn’t really do a whole lot. (Ironically, the compound absinthin is an anti-inflammatory and doesn’t have much to do with any of that.)
Absinthe’s hallucinatory effects have more to do with its high alcohol content (the stuff is about 50-75% ABV), the power of suggestion, and the fact that unscrupulous absinthe makers started adding copper salts as an artificial green coloring around the late 19th century.

Assorted liquor bottles. — Photo by Chris F on Pexels.com

During its heyday, absinthe was also much enjoyed by counterculture movements. This led to it being vilified by social conservatives, who had every motivation to hype up its “dangerous, toxic, and hallucinatory properties.”
So, what do you get when you mix an herb that might, potentially be toxic in specific circumstances, a buttload of alcohol, a bunch of bohemians, cheap absinthe full of poisonous colorants, and a bunch of social conservatives? You get a liquor with a legendary reputation as a toxic hallucinogen, and an unfair ban.

Using Wormwood

You can grow Artemisia absinthum fairly easily. Like mugwort, it grows in bright, dry, disturbed soil. It also self-seeds readily, so be prepared to either keep it confined to an area where it can’t do that (like a pot on a patio), deadhead the flowers, or keep up with rigorously removing new baby wormwoods as they pop up.

While wormwood isn’t as dangerous as popular depictions would have you think, it’s still a plant with toxic components that should be treated with respect.

Close up of common wormwood. — Photo by Jeffry Surianto on Pexels.com

Wormwood has historically been used as a flavoring herb. If you want to use wormwood internally, do so under the guidance of a qualified herbalist. There are multiple health and pharmacological contraindications at play here, so it’s important to be careful.

Otherwise, dried wormwood makes a wonderful addition to protective bottles, sachets, and other charms. You can:

Grind it into a fine powder and sprinkle it on or around anything you wish to protect.
Burn it and waft the smoke around an object or area you wish to purify.
Keep some dried wormwood (perhaps with its cousin, mugwort) with divination tools to keep them cleansed and ready for use.
Soak it in water and asperge spaces, objects, or people to cleanse them.
Soak or steep it in water and use the resulting “tea” to wash your front and back doors for protection.
Grow wormwood near doors for protection against malevolent energies, entities, or bugs. (For real, a lot of what we consider pest insects really don’t seem to like it.)

These aren’t the only uses for this herb, of course, but they’re probably the ones most in wormwood’s wheelhouse. You can also use it for love divination or spirit work, but this may depend heavily on your specific tradition, techniques, and situation.

Wormwood is a beautiful, interesting, complex, and contradictory herb. It’s a poisonous healer, a repeller and attractor of spirits, and an invaluable addition to a magical herb collection.

animals

The Magical Meaning of Wasps

October 9, 2024October 8, 2024 J.Leave a comment

Last week was spiders, this week we’re doing wasps.

Why wasps?

In temperate climates, late summer and early autumn when many wasps (the eusocial ones, at least) start losing direction. Like kids on spring break, they no longer have the structure they once did — the nest is likely done producing larvae, the newly-created queens are getting ready to hibernate, and the wasply lifecycle comes to a close to start back up in spring. This means that the workers, if they haven’t died already, are about to.

The lack of larvae to raise also means that the wasps’ dietary habits shift. Where babies need protein in order to grow big and strong (and adequate protein is so important, worker wasps have been observed shoving drones into lockers in order to make sure that the larvae eat first), the workers have already done all the growing they’re going to do. They don’t need a high protein diet; they need carbs for energy. This often puts them in conflict with humans, as sugar sources start to wind down a bit this time of year and humans are generally a veritable bonanza of sugary treats.

A close-up of a wasp's face. — Photo by David Hablu00fctzel on Pexels.com

So, if you’re noticing larger numbers of more aggressive wasps than usual, that’s probably why. They’re hungry, and they’re on a kind of wasply rumspringa. Don’t worry, though — they won’t be around much longer. It’ll get cold, the workers will die off, the queens will hibernate, et fin.

Right now, we have a wasp nest beneath a tree stump. We considered removing it, but it’s late enough that nature will take its course pretty soon, and then we can fill in the cavity to keep anyone else from setting up shop.

In honor of the last of the summer’s wasps, here are various bits of folklore, mythology, and magical properties associated with these creatures.

Wasp Folklore

Insects feature pretty frequently in Japanese folklore and mythology, wasps included. In one story, the deity Susanoo-mikoto ordered his son-in-law, Ôkuninushino-kami, to sleep in a room infested with wasps and centipedes. Fortunately, Suseribimeno-mikoto, his wife, gives him an insect-repelling cloth to protect him.

One of the plays of Aristophanes, an ancient Greek playwright, is titled The Wasps. In it, the titular wasps are a group of jurors. Bdelycleon, son of Philocleon, has imprisoned his father after many, many unsuccessful treatments for Philocleon’s seeming addiction to trials. When the jurors (Philocleon’s comrades) learn of his imprisonment, they swarm Bdelycleon like wasps. Bdelycleon eventually gives in, and turns the house into a “courtroom” where his father can judge household disputes.

In Boticelli’s painting Venus and Mars, there’s a small wasp nest far to the right, near Mars’ head. Wasps are associated with Mars (and his Greek counterpart, Ares) as animals that are considered aggressive or warlike, but this may not be why Boticelli chose to include them. The painting may have been commissioned by the Vespucci family (from the Italian “vespa,” or “wasp”), and the inclusion of the wasp nest may have been a nod to that.

Detail from Botticelli's Venus and Mars, showing Mars' face and an adjacent wasp nest.

Ichneumon wasps, a family of parasitoid wasps, were also instrumental in strengthening Charles Darwin’s doubts about the existence of a benevolent creator:

I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars[.]

I have seen multiple references to wasps as sacred animals in Indigenous American cultures, but haven’t found many specific examples of this — particularly examples sourced from Indigenous peoples themselves. This isn’t to say that this isn’t true, but any references to wasps as sacred, totemic, or spirit animals in generic “Native American” culture should be taken with a grain of salt. (North America is kind of a huge place.)
One specific story comes from the Diné people and tells the story of the First World — known as Ni’hodilhil, the Dark or Black World. This was a black place surrounded by four cloud columns: Black Night to the north, White Dawn to the east, Blue Daylight to the south, and Yellow Twilight to the west. The First Man, along with a perfect ear of white corn, was formed at the place where Black Night and White Dawn met. The First Woman, along with a perfect ear of yellow corn, was formed where Blue Daylight and Yellow Twilight met.
At that time, creatures did not have their present forms. They were as mists, but would one day become their present shapes.
In the story, the first man and first woman meet and live together. Gradually, other beings appear. First is Great-Coyote-Who-Was-Formed-in-the-Water, who hatched from an egg and knew all that went on under the water. Second was another Coyote, First Angry, who insisted that he had been born first, and brought witchcraft into the world. After that, four more beings appeared. They were the Wasp People, and they knew how shoot and harm others. They were followed by the Red Ants, the Black Ants, and many others, until the world became crowded and was full of arguing.
Eventually, the Gods became angry and the occupants of the First World were forced to leave. The First Man planted a reed in the east, which grew tall and strong. The First Man, First Woman, and all of the other creatures of the world climbed up it to safety, to the Second World.

A black and yellow wasp on a white flower. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Ahti, a little-known Egyptian deity, was represented as a hippopotamus with the head of a wasp. Not much is known about her, though her interesting composition has led some scholars to associate her with chaos, disorder, and spite.

In Hindu mythology, wasps are associated with Bhramari — the goddess of bees. Bees, wasps, hornets, spiders, termites, mosquitoes, and biting flies cling to her body, and she could send them out to attack for her. In the tenth book of the Devi Bhagavata Purana, there is a powerful asura named Aruna. He performs a penance to Brahma, and, in return, Brahma makes it so Aruna cannot be killed in war by any man, woman, weapon, bipedal creature, quadrupedal creature, or any combination thereof. Feeling suitably overpowered, Aruna called on other beings to attack the devas. He nearly succeeded in beating them, too, until Adi Parashakti appeared and began releasing bees from her hands. Calmly, she continued releasing insects that clung to her body, making her larger and larger and creating the divine form of Bhramari.
When all of Aruna’s army had been defeated except him, she released her insects upon him to tear him limb from limb.

John Gerard, a sixteenth century herbalist, had a method of tree divination using acorns. The technique involved finding an acorn at a specific time of year (likely autumn), breaking it open, and examining the contents:

If there was an ant inside, there’d be an abundant harvest in the coming year.
On the other hand, a worm that attempts to crawl away means a light harvest.
A spider was a harbinger of pestilence for humans.
A white worm was a harbinger of pestilence for animals.
If the worm thrashed and turned away, however, it meant the plague.
If there was a worm that “flew away” (perhaps by growing into an adult knopper gall wasp), it foretold war.

A wasp climbing on a mossy stick. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Some modern witches use deceased wasps as an ingredient in banishing or protective powders. Combine them with ingredients like salt, hot pepper, and garlic, and grind to a fine powder. Use to dress candles, sprinkle around borders, et cetera.

The Symbolism of Wasps

Wasps represent war, arguments, and violence. This is probably undeserved, as there are plenty of non-aggressive wasp species. (I mean, I woke up the other day with a little ichneumon wasp crawling on my leg. She was tiny, harmless, and seemed at least as confused as I was, considering both of us were A) in a bed and B) under a blanket.)

Wasps’ violence isn’t always unjustified, however. These creatures, and stinging insects in general, also frequently represent punishment and wrath. Even in the story of Bhramari, where wasps are part of the insect army that eventually defeat Aruna, they are part of the righteous, defensive wrath of the goddess.

They’re also symbols of strictly enforced boundaries and protection.

On the other hand, dreaming of wasps is said to represent evil and negative emotions. Dreams of being stung by a wasp may indicate envy. Killing a wasp in a dream represents bravery in overcoming the negativity or malicious actions of others.

Are wasps aggressive? They certainly can be, but this isn’t directionless aggression. In reality, they’re very protective. The trouble is, it’s often difficult for humans to tell where our territory ends and theirs begins, which frequently brings us into conflict. Still, wasps perform very important functions as pollinators and predators of pest insects, so it’s worth learning about your local wasp species and finding ways to coexist whenever possible.
Sometimes that long “stinger” is just an ovipositor, and that wasp is on the way to take care of your garden for you!

animals

The Magical Meaning and Symbolism of Wasps

October 9, 2024August 20, 2025 1 Comment

Last week was spiders, this week we’re doing the magical meaning and symbolism of wasps.

Why wasps?

In honor of the last of the summer’s wasps, here are various bits of folklore, mythology, magical properties, and the symbolism of wasps.

Wasp Folklore

Ichneumon wasps, a family of parasitoid wasps, were also instrumental in strengthening Charles Darwin’s doubts about the existence of a benevolent creator:

I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars[.]

If there was an ant inside, there’d be an abundant harvest in the coming year.
On the other hand, a worm that attempts to crawl away means a light harvest.
A spider was a harbinger of pestilence for humans.
A white worm was a harbinger of pestilence for animals.
If the worm thrashed and turned away, however, it meant the plague.
If there was a worm that “flew away” (perhaps by growing into an adult knopper gall wasp), it foretold war.

The Symbolism of Wasps

The symbolism of wasps generally revolves around war, arguments, and violence. This is probably undeserved, as there are plenty of non-aggressive wasp species. (I mean, I woke up the other day with a little ichneumon wasp crawling on my leg. She was tiny, harmless, and seemed at least as confused as I was, considering both of us were A) in a bed and B) under a blanket.)

Wasps’ connection to violence isn’t always unjustified, however. These creatures, and stinging insects in general, also frequently represent punishment and wrath. Even in the story of Bhramari, where wasps are part of the insect army that eventually defeat Aruna, they are part of the righteous, defensive wrath of the goddess.

They’re also symbols of strictly enforced boundaries and protection.

On the other hand, the symbolism of wasps in dreams is linked to evil and negative emotions. Dreams of being stung by a wasp may indicate envy. Killing a wasp in a dream represents bravery in overcoming the negativity or malicious actions of others.

Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

Myrtle Folklore and Magical Properties

August 28, 2024August 28, 2024 J.Leave a comment

So, something funny happened.

Two years ago, I purchased a set of three elderberry starts. (Not quite saplings, since they were still very tiny.) I planted them, looked after them, and then pretty much let them do their thing once they got established. When I noticed buds on one, I was very excited — it was a little early for a baby elderberry to put out flowers, but so what? Elderberry flowers!

Except…

A close-up of a cluster of hot pink crepe myrtle/crape myrtle flowers.

Don’t get me wrong. They’re beautiful and vibrant. They’re just also extremely not elderberries.

Couldn’t be farther from elderberries, actually. This small tree is a stunning example of a Lagerstroemia — also known as the crape (or crepe, or crêpe) myrtle.

While I was looking forward to experiencing my first home-grown elderberries this year, I am willing to settle for a very pretty crape myrtle. This tree isn’t native to this area (in fact, there are no Lagerstroemia species native to the US), but it’s very common in the southeast and the seeds have become a food source for birds like goldfinches, cardinals, and dark-eyed juncos, among others. While I’m far more in favor of planting native plants, the fact that many native species of birds have shifted to using crape myrtle seeds as a winter food source is a very big (and legitimately fascinating) deal. If left unchecked, crape myrtles can produce a lot of seeds and will multiply prolifically. If native bird species are taking to crape myrtle seeds as a winter food source — and even seemingly preferring them to commercial bird seeds — that’s a good thing. It allows these birds to take the place of their natural predators and may keep volunteer crape myrtles from becoming a problem.

But enough about my myrtle problems. Here’s some more neat stuff about myrtles in general.

Myrtle Magical Uses and Folklore

Crape myrtles (Lagerstroemia) are native to parts of Asia, Australia, and the Indian subcontinent, and they’re somewhat distantly related to what we usually consider myrtles (Myrtus). Same with lemon myrtles (Backhousia citriodora), which are found in Australia.
Myrtus species can be found in the Mediterranean, western Asia, India, and northern Africa. Lagerstroemia, Backhousia, and Myrtus are genera in the order Myrtales.

There are also bog myrtles (Myrica gale), which are found pretty much anywhere in the northern hemisphere where you can find bogs, and bayberries (like Myrica pensylvanica, M. carolinensis, M. californica, and a whole bunch of others). These are wax myrtles, part of the order Fagales, and are actually more closely related to beech trees.
(Vinca, also known as “creeping myrtle” or “lesser periwinkle,” is not related to myrtles. It’s also a bit of an invasive nightmare here.)

For the purpose of this post, I’m going to focus on members of Myrtaceae.
(Wax myrtles, you’ll get your turn. Promise.)

A botanical illustration of Myrtus communis, the common myrtle. — n208_w1150 by BioDivLibrary is licensed under CC-PDM 1.0

Common myrtle (Myrtus communis) is used as a culinary herb and medicinal plant. Figs, threated onto a myrtle skewer and roasted, acquire a unique flavor from the essential oils present in the wood. The seeds, dried and ground, have an interesting, peppery flavor often used in sausages. As a medicinal plant, it’s been used to treat scalp and skin conditions, to stop bleeding, and to treat sinus problems. (Unfortunately, there’s limited evidence that myrtle really does much for that last one.)

Lemon myrtle (Backhousia citriodora) is also a culinary and medicinal plant. As a culinary herb, it’s used to flavor any dish you might flavor with lemon: desserts, fish, poultry, or pasta. It’s especially useful for flavoring dairy-based dishes, since the acidity of actual lemon juice tends to ruin the texture of milk products.
Medicinally, the oil has some pretty significant antimicrobial activity. The leaves themselves are also very relaxing.
(I’ve had the dried leaves in tea, where I find it really shines — it’s got a delightful citrusy flavor with a bright, subtly sweet taste, and it absolutely knocks me out.)

In ancient Greece, the myrtle tree was a sacred tree for Aphrodite and Demeter. Seeing one in a dream or vision was considered good luck if you were either a farmer or a woman. It was also connected to the minor deity Iacchus, for whom there isn’t really much information — he was often syncretized with Dionysus, and Dionysus was all about wreaths and garlands. He could also have been a son of Dionysus, a son of Demeter, or a son of Persephone.

There are also three ancient Greek origin stories for the common myrtle. In one, an athlete named Myrsine outdid all of her rivals. In retaliation, they killed her and the goddess Athena turned her into a beautiful myrtle tree. In another, a priestess of Aphrodite broke her vows to get married (either willingly or unwillingly, depending on the version). Aphrodite then turned her into a myrtle tree, either as a punishment (for willingly breaking her vows) or as protection (against the husband who abducted her to marry). In the third version, a nymph turned herself into a myrtle tree in order to avoid Apollo’s unwanted advances.

Pink crape myrtle flowers on the branch. — Photo by Griffin Wooldridge on Pexels.com

In Japan, crape myrtles are known as sarusuberi (百日紅). Their striking flowers are often found in traditional artwork and make very striking bonsai.

Crape myrtles don’t have much history in old grimoires or European magical systems, purely because they weren’t really around centuries ago. When you’re reading about largely European folk magic, ceremonial magic, mythologies, or herbal medicine, they’re going to be talking about Myrtus species, not Lagerstroemia. That said, crape myrtle flowers are associated with general positivity, love, and romance.

Lemon myrtles don’t have much history in European magical systems, either. Like crape myrtles, this doesn’t mean that they don’t have value. In modern western magic, lemon myrtle is usually considered a solar herb and all of its attributes: purification, positivity, luck, and protection.

As a plant of Aphrodite and Demeter, common myrtle makes a good offering for either of these deities. (This isn’t always the case — sometimes, when a plant is sacred to a god, it means don’t touch that plant.) Since these goddesses are shown wearing wreaths of myrtle, it’s not a terrible idea to weave a myrtle wreath and either wear it while doing devotional work, or place it as an offering to one of them.

A hand holding a sprig of myrtle, showing the plant's leaves and berries. — Photo by Furkan Films on Pexels.com

Common myrtle is also very strongly associated with love and marriage. In Eastern Europe, myrtle wreaths were held over the heads of a marrying couple (now, people use crowns instead). All the way across the sea, in Appalachia, one method of love divination involves throwing a sprig of myrtle into a fire. If you watch the smoke closely, it’s said to form the shape of your true love’s face.

Myrtle is more than a love and marriage herb, however. It’s also considered protective. As mentioned in myrtle’s Greek origin stories, two of them describe women turning (or being turned) into myrtle trees in order to escape men. In England, it was also thought that blackbirds used myrtle trees to protect themselves against malevolent sorcery.

Common myrtle is associated with Venus and the Moon. Lemon myrtle is associated with the Sun.

Using Myrtle

If you have access to dried common or lemon myrtle as a culinary spice, you’re in luck — these are ideal ingredients for kitchen witchery. Combine them with other ingredients that match your intention (for example, make a delectable chamomile and lemon myrtle tea for luck, just be ready for a nap first), ask the herbs for their help, and you’re good to go.

Lemon and common myrtles have a high concentration of essential oils, so they’re good for infusing. Place some of the dried leaves in a carrier oil, like sweet almond or jojoba, and allow them to sit in a warm, dark area. Shake them regularly, and decant or strain the oil after a month or so. You’ve made an oil you can use for anointing, dressing candles, you name it.

If you want to use common myrtle for love divination, brew a cup of myrtle tea and read the leaves. You can also toss a branch of fresh myrtle into a fire and read the smoke.

I wouldn’t recommend planting myrtle trees if you live outside of their native range, but, if you’re in the southeastern US like me, you probably have access to loads of them anyway. You can find lemon myrtle in tea and spice shops. Same with common myrtle. Crape myrtle grows by the roadsides here as a landscaping plant. (If you’re me, you might even think you’re planting an elderberry start and end up with a crape myrtle instead!)

Even if you can’t grow myrtles yourself, I recommend experiencing their delightful colors, flavors, and aromas at least once. Each myrtle species and relative has their own fascinating folklore and history of use,

Plants and Herbs

Ivy Folklore and Magical Properties

August 21, 2024August 20, 2024 J.1 Comment

Ah, ivy.

In the US, few outdoor plants are as divisive. There’s the very romantic ideal of an old, ivy-covered brick building in the Northeastern US, but also English ivy is invasive here. It’s a low-maintenance ground cover, but will also crowd out just about everything.

I wrote about vines in general a little bit ago. As I write this, I’ve just come back indoors from taking a walk around the yard and checking on how my plants’re doing. I was scoping out the raspberry canes when what to my wondering eyes should appear by a sneaky tendril of English ivy, creeping its way under the deck. With those two things in mind, I figured now might be a good time to do a deeper dive into one very specific vine: Ivy.

Ivy Magical Uses and Folklore

The ivies make up the genus Hedera. There are 12-15 distinct species within this genus, all native to Europe, eastward to Asia, and southward to northern Africa. The one that most English-speaking people think of when they hear the word “ivy” is common or English ivy, Hedera helix. (Pothos, Epipremnum aureum, is sometimes called “devil’s ivy” but is not related to Hedera. Neither is poison ivy, genus Toxicodendron.)

A dense growth of ivy covers a wall, surrounding a green door. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In the Ogham alphabet, the few ᚌ (gort) is said to represent ivy. The Bríatharogaim for gort is “sweetest grass,” “suitable place for cows,” and “sating of multitudes.” The word “gort” also stems from a Proto-Indo-European root meaning “enclosure.” Some Ogham readers interpret gort as “field,” rather than “ivy,” which seems to be closer to its traditional sense. When the Ogham is conceptualized as a purely tree alphabet, gort becomes ivy. This few is associated with growth, prosperity, and the winding path toward enlightenment. On the flip side, it’s also connected to the word “gorta,” meaning “hunger” or “famine.”

In Irish folk stories, ivy is often described as surrounding the entrances of caves or secret doorways. Interestingly, in this context ivy is concealing these entrances from the outside world — either as a narrative flourish to give the text some more flavor, or as a deliberate guardian and barrier between the Otherworld and this one. In some tales, ivy is a protective plant against the fae.

In ancient Greece, ivy was connected to the God of wine, frenzy, and agriculture, Dionysus. He’s often pictured with a crown of ivy as a representation of his exalted and immortal status. In one tale, it’s said that he wore an ivy wreath to curb the effects of drinking wine — while grapes are a summer vine, ivy is a cooling, wintery evergreen. Thalia, the muse of comedy, was also depicted as wearing an ivy crown.

In Egypt, ivy was a sacred plant to Osiris. Similarly to Dionysus, ivy was connected to the concepts of immortality and rebirth.

The idea of buildings covered in ivy comes from the belief that this plant could protect one’s home and family from evil, as well as bring in good luck. This belief is also where ivy door wreaths come from.

While people often overstate the effectiveness of using indoor plants to remove pollutants from the air, research has shown that ivy may help reduce numbers of airborne mold spores. More study is needed to determine how effective this would be in the average home, as well as how many plants it’d take to cause an appreciable drop in mold spores.

English ivy is considered toxic, and consumption can cause gastric upset, pain, and vomiting. Some people are allergic to ivy, and may experience severe reactions. That said, this plant has historically been used medicinally to treat respiratory issues and extracts can still be found in some modern cold and cough remedies.

As an evergreen, ivy is often used for decoration during the winter holidays. It has a perpetual connection to the sun and springtime since it never loses its color, even during the depths of winter.

Magically, this plant is associated with fertility, abundance, protection, and good fortune. Some also use it to enhance divination or improve psychic abilities.

Using Ivy

If you’re in the US, do not grow English ivy outdoors. If you’re going to grow it, pot it and keep it inside. While English ivy can be controlled with careful pruning, it can easily get out of hand and grow prolifically enough to starve and weaken trees by weighing down their limbs and blocking sunlight from reaching their leaves. It also has a habit of escaping and ending up where there isn’t anyone around to keep it pruned, damaging native forests. IWithin its native range, ivy provides food, shelter, and an increase in the biodiversity of forests. Outside of that range, it is mainly a way to slowly kill trees and turn every available surface into more ivy.

If you really, really want to grow ivy in your garden, look for varieties that are considered non-invasive where you live.

Historically, the easiest ways to use ivy have been to have it near or on your front door, or even just to wear or carry a sprig. You could do this by tucking a fresh sprig in a pocket, a buttonhole, or even a hair clip whenever you go to do something that requires some extra luck and protection.

Traditionally, ivy was used to protect against supernatural entities and malevolent witchcraft. This makes it a good candidate for including in any spells, jars, or sachets intended to break or protect against hexes, jinxes, or curses.

If you do decide to keep English ivy in your home, whether live and potted or fashioned into a wreath or garland, keep it away from pets. While it does have medicinal properties, this is only when properly prepared by a skilled herbal practitioner. Otherwise, it’s considered toxic to dogs, cats, and humans.

Ivy is a beautiful little plant with a long history of symbolism behind it. As with many plants of considerable power, it needs to be treated responsibly — stay mindful of ivy’s place in (or outside of) your local environment and build a relationship with it accordingly. Whether you’re able to safely grow ivy outside, or must keep it confined to a pot indoors, this plant is a very handy and capable magical ally.

Plants and Herbs

Mugwort Folklore and Magical Properties

August 7, 2024August 6, 2024 J.2 Comments

The other day, after attending the drum class I wrote about yesterday, I was waiting in the herb shop to stock up on some things I need for teas, oils, and the like. I overheard the customer in front of me talking about mugwort, and, since it’s an herb I use often, I maybe kind of eavesdropped a little bit. What followed was a really interesting conversation about herbs, dreams, lucid dreaming, dream recall, and trance work.

It was so nice to get to talk about herbs with someone outside of a purely medicinal context, that I figured that this was a good week to talk about one of my absolute favorite plants: mugwort.
(And, if you were that person, I’m so sorry for being an eavesdropping weirdo but I also had a really fun time talking to you about herbs.)

Mugwort Magical Uses and Folklore

An old statue depicting Artemis alongside a stag. — Photo by V Marin on Pexels.com

Okay, I know the name “mugwort” leaves a bit to be desired in English — it’s not exactly the most phonetically pleasing word — but its scientific name is rather beautiful: Artemisia vulgaris. The “vulgaris” in this instance means “common,” like the “wort” in “mugwort” roughly translating to “plant.” Mugwort is a very interesting, very magical, and very common plant.
The “mug” in mugwort may come from its use as an insect-repelling herb. The Old English word “mygg” is where we get the modern word “midge.” Another possibility is from its use as a flavoring herb in brewing. The “Artemisia” in Artemisia vulgaris, naturally, comes from the lunar and woodland goddess Artemis.

Mugwort was an important herb to the ancient Greeks and Romans. Soldiers and travelers would place sprigs of it into their shoes, in order to ward off fatigue.

Mugwort is very commonly included in herbal blends for dreams, psychic abilities, divination, cleansing, protection, and banishing. Like so many other herbs that are used for cleansing and banishing, this may stem from mugwort’s use as a pest repellent — it can literally banish the evils of disease brought by insects, ergo it must be useful against other evils as well. (See also: Pennyroyal.)

In Christian mythology, mugwort is associated with John the Baptist. It’s said that he carried mugwort with him to ward off evil. As a result, people would wear garlands of the herb on St. John’s Day (June 24th) and toss them into fires to ensure protection for the next year.

In some shamanic practices, mugwort is a representation of ancient wisdom. This plant is often visualized as a kind of crone figure, and used to facilitate a connection to ancestors.

A close-up of a young sprig of mugwort. — Photo by Lauri Poldre on Pexels.com

Medicinally, mugwort was (and often still is) used to help ease difficult periods, treat menstrual irregularity, and as a mild pain reliever and anti-inflammatory. Mugwort is also used in the acupuncture practice of moxibustion, in which pieces of mugwort are placed at the end of acupuncture needles and burned.

Mugwort is also part of the Nine Herbs Charm according to one source, along with plantain, lamb’s cress, fumitory, chamomile, nettle, crab apple, chervil, and fennel. In this charm, mugwort is honored as the “oldest of plants,” strong against both poison and an unnamed force that travels the land. (This may be either a personification of evil, a venomous serpent, or a specific disease, but it’s referred to simply as “the loathsome thing.”)
The Nine Herbs Charm is a beautiful piece of poetry that combines Pagan and later Christian influences in a way that passes down important medical knowledge. The charm concludes with the recipe for a healing salve made by powdering the herbs, mixing them with old soap, mixing this with lye to make a paste, and combining it with boiled fennel. The charm is sung several times during the process — three times to each herb, then over the patient’s mouth, ears, and the wound being treated.
This is not only a magical consideration, but a practical one as well. It’s considered important to declare one’s intentions in adding an herb to a magical mixture, but the number of times the incantation is sung may correspond to how long it takes to powder and mix everything correctly. Singing it once while powdering an herb, for example, may yield a coarse consistency that doesn’t properly blend. Singing it three times, on the other hand, gives you the exact length of time needed to properly powder and mix the herbs. It’s like having a portable kitchen timer that not only tells you the recipe, it tells you what each ingredient is for and makes sure you do it right.

Mugwort was also used like hops before hops were a thing in brewing. Hops didn’t really achieve widespread use until the 15th century — before that, brewers used mugwort. It’s still used in food and teas for its unique flavor, which is like a bit astringent and savory, with a really interesting resinous character. Kind of like a mix between celery, mint, and eucalyptus.

Using Mugwort

While mugwort isn’t native to the US, it’s not exactly hard to find here, either. It does have a number of lookalikes, so you’ll want to get the help of a seasoned forager to make sure that you’re correctly IDing it. Start by looking for it in ditches, by roadsides, fields, and other places where the ground has been disturbed.
(Of course, if you’re foraging mugwort in order to consume it internally, avoid any that’s growing within ten feet of a roadside. In general, it’s better to avoid foraging near roadsides at all because the soil and plants there are contaminated by vehicular pollution. Leaving the plants in place ensures that you’re not consuming any of this pollution, and also allows them to remain and continue bioremediation.)

A large clump of mugwort, absolutely thriving next to a drainage ditch full of water. — Mugwort growing beside a drainage ditch in the Norton Marshes by Evelyn Simak is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

Of course, as with many other plants, I advocate for growing mugwort if you want to develop a relationship with it. However, if you’re in the US or another area where mugwort is a problem, I recommend either growing it in containers, or trying a related native species. (Like Artemisia douglasiana, California mugwort, in the western US.)
If you’re looking for mugwort’s medicinal properties, stick with A. vulgaris or other Artemisia species specifically used in herbal medicine. Different species may not have the same active compounds in the same concentrations, and some may even have some not-very-desirable qualities as well.

An old botanical illustration of a member of Artemisia. — The “Absinthe” on this illustration suggests wormword, Artemisia absinthum. However, the pointy leaves with green tops and silver undersides indicate mugwort.

Once you have some, using it is pretty easy:

Dry the leaves and add them to dream pillows along with herbs like lavender or chamomile. Squeeze the pillow and inhale the scent before dropping off to sleep.
Add dried mugwort to incense and light it before card reading, scrying, or other forms of divination.
Powder it fine and combine it with protective herbs, then sprinkle them in the corners of your home or around the border of your property.
Rub fresh mugwort on a black candle and burn it to banish a person, entity, or situation.
Dry whole sprigs of mugwort, tie them into bundles either alone or with other cleansing herbs, and burn to purify spaces and prepare them for ritual work.

You can consume mugwort as a tea or flavoring agent in breads, soups, poultry dishes, or beverages. However, high consumption of this herb does come with some unpleasant side effects like muscle spasms. If you’re looking to tap into mugwort’s psychic, trance, or dream benefits, you should still avoid consuming more than you’d normally get in an herbal tea, and avoid doing so for more than two weeks at a time. More isn’t always better.

If you’re pregnant or seeking to become so, avoid consuming mugwort. One of its chief medicinal uses has been to treat menstrual irregularity by stimulating uterine contractions. So, unless a qualified herbal practitioner says to use it, it’s best to avoid mugwort in these situations.

The mugwort of European folklore may not be from the US, but its invasive and resilient nature means that its probably here to stay. If you want to enjoy the long magical, mythological, culinary, and medicinal history of this herb, I recommend growing it in a container or purchasing the pre-dried herb to add to teas, incenses, sachets, or other preparations.

Plants and Herbs · Uncategorized

Vine Folklore and Magical Uses

July 31, 2024July 30, 2024 J.Leave a comment

Hello!

Close up of a purple passionflower. — Photo by kiwiicat on Pexels.com

My passionflower is loving this weather, though the rest of the plants here seem less than enthused about the whole thing. It’s not only encompassed half the porch, it’s climbed nearly up to the roof and sent out several tendrils along the lawn. If it didn’t also put out beautiful flowers and a ton of fruit, and act as a cozy little haven for sleepy bees, I’d be tempted to cut a bunch of it down.

That got me thinking — if I did, what would I do with that much passionflower? I can only tincture so much of it. Could I weave it into baskets? Turn it into rope?

Vines, in general, have a long history as religious symbols, the subject of legend and folklore, and magical ingredients. If you, too, are experiencing a sudden flush of viny plants that you don’t know what to do with, folklore may have some ideas for you.

Vine Magical Properties and Folklore

In the Ogham writing and divination system, the letter muin (ᚋ) is commonly interpreted as “vine,” and usually portrayed as either grape or ivy. However, grapes are not native to Ireland and, even when they were introduced, they never really took root there (pun intended — Ireland is not a great place to try to grow grape vines). The word “muin” also doesn’t have anything to do with vines. Instead, it refers to a thorny thicket. This has made muin one of the most controversial and seldom-agreed-upon parts of the Ogham.

The ancient Greek deity of wine, orchards, frenzy, fertility, and religious ecstasy, Dionysus, is also intimately connected to vines. (And I do mean intimately.) Not only are grape vines his domain, he is also regularly portrayed as wreathed in ivy vines. Here, the evergreen nature of ivy represents the gods’ immortality. It’s also connected to fertility and sex.

Dionysus isn’t the only one to wear an ivy crown, either. Thalia, Muse of Comedy, is also portrayed as wearing one.

In Egyptian legend, Osiris is associated with the ivy, again, because of the plant’s connection to immortality and rebirth.

There’s a Persian (now modern day Iranian) legend that tells of the origin of wine. Long, long ago, a bird dropped some seeds by a King’s feet. Intrigued, the King had the seeds planted and cared for. The seeds became sprouts, the sprouts became vines, and the vines grew heavy with grapes. Overjoyed, he had the delicious grapes picked and stored in his royal vaults.

However, grapes don’t stay fresh forever. The vault was too damp for them to dry into raisins, and too warm to chill them. Instead, the grapes began producing a dark liquid which everyone assumed was likely a deadly poison. Before the old grapes could be cleaned up and thrown away, one of the King’s wives attempted to end her life by drinking some of the grape “poison.” When the King found her later, she was far from deceased — in fact, she was dancing, singing happily, and apparently thoroughly enjoying being the first person in recorded history to ever get absolutely rocked off her tits on wine. With this evidence that the liquid was not poison and, in fact, seemed to make people quite happy, the King named it “Darou ē Shah” — The King’s Remedy.

No word on what happened to his wife, however. Therapy being in short supply thousands of years ago, one can assume she either eventually found some actual poison or developed an absolutely staggering drinking habit.

English ivy climbing a white wall. — Photo by Madison Inouye on Pexels.com

Ivy is about more than ecstasy, wine, sex, and living forever, though. One look at the growing behavior of many vines can show you exactly what else they’re good at: binding things. Even the beautiful, gentle passionflower vines climbing my front porch do so due to grasping tendrils of surprising strength and tenacity. Some vines, English ivy in particular, also get a reputation here for damaging property and killing native trees.
Depending on the context, vines are then equally as restrictive as they are freeing. Sometimes, vines are heavy with grapes and the promise of wine, intoxication, inspiration, sexual desire, and ecstasy. Sometimes, they’re ivy vines, evergreen and symbolizing enduring life and lush greenery during the winter months. Other times, they are the vines that grow around things, binding and restricting them like ropes.

Ivy is also associated with protection and healing. This may be due to its connections to immortality and rebirth. Grapes, on the other hand, are associated with fertility, money, and all things connected to the concept of abundance. Briony, on the other hand, is both money and protection. Placing money near a briony vine is said to cause it to increase.

In the tale of Sleeping Beauty, vines (sometimes) play a key role. In the Disney version, Aurora is cursed, pricks her finger, falls asleep, yadda yadda yadda, vines grow and cover everything. In an older telling, it was a dense hedge of climbing roses. One yet older version of the story (Sole, Luna, e Talia) also has Sleeping Beauty-
You know, I’ll just let Giambattista Basile tell it.

“crying aloud, he beheld her charms and felt his blood course hotly through his veins. He lifted her in his arms, and carried her to a bed, where he gathered the first fruits of love.”

Yeah. When that fails to wake her, he pulls his pants up and rides off to his castle and his already existing wife, the Queen. Sleeping Beauty only awakens again when one of the twins she subsequently births tries to nurse and accidentally sucks the splinter from her finger.
(As if that weren’t enough, the Queen gets fed up with the King’s infidelity and tries to have the children cooked and fed to her husband.)
Interestingly, vines aren’t prominent in the assault version of Sleeping Beauty — they become more important the further you get from that version, and the closer you get to Disney’s much more sanitized telling. It’s as if the presence of the vines in the story both bind Sleeping Beauty in her castle and protect her from the King.
No vines? Not even a climbing rose? You’re in for a bad time.

Using Vines

Vines make beautiful decorations for the home and altar. Evergreen ivy is commonly brought indoors during the winter months as a decoration, tied with swathes of ribbon, hung with bells or other ornaments, you name it.

Vines can also be used to bind things. Hollywood has portrayed magical bindings in some… interesting ways. For example, “binding” a witch à la The Craft.
This, however, is silly.

Bindings can go one of two ways: a person, thing, or situation may be bound (in the sense of binding someone with rope) to keep them/it from causing harm or otherwise interfering with you. You can also bind something to yourself. For example, a really great job that you just got, happen to enjoy, and want to make sure that you keep.

In this case, the binding is a form of sympathetic magic. You take a representation of the thing you wish to bind, and effectively tie it up with what you have on hand. (This may be vines, if you want to enlist the vine’s help and magical associations, but can also just be household twine in a pinch.) There are plenty of chants and incantations you can recite while doing so, but I find that it’s most effective if you speak from the heart — inform the subject why they are being bound, and what you hope will come of it. Put it in a jar or box, close it tightly, and keep it somewhere safe so you can undo the binding when the time comes.

To bind something to yourself, you’d use a representation of yourself (like a photo or lock of hair) and a representation of what you wish to bind to you. Wrap both objects together with the vines or string, again speaking from the heart while you do so. Place the objects in a jar or box and keep them somewhere safe.

Bindings aren’t the only type of sympathetic magic that vines are good at, though. Plant a vine (preferably not an invasive species — there are loads of native vines) along with a representation of something you wish to grow. Ask for the vine’s help, and declare that, as the vine grows, so shall grow the thing you desire. Take good care of that vine, and keep an eye on its growth.

While every species of plant has its own magical uses and depictions in legend and folklore, vines are in a class of their own. Each one has their own unique properties, but vining plants also have plenty of common ground.

animals · Neodruidry · Witchcraft

The Magical Meaning of Feathers

July 24, 2024July 22, 2024 J.Leave a comment

Right about now, several species of birds have turned the area around my house into a kind of avian daycare. Again.

There are birds of every distinction turning up, kids in tow. Most of these kids look almost exactly like the adults — the starlings, for example, are fully the size of their parents and the only difference is that some still have their brown feathers. The baby crows look just like their parents, save for being a little smaller and still having pink corners on their beaks.

Since these babies are rapidly transitioning from their juvenile plumage to their full adult feathers, that means that they’re molting. You can find feathers everywhere — mostly fluffy white down, but the occasional primary feather, too. That’s why I thought that it might be a good idea to write a bit about the magical meaning of feathers.

A barred feather caught on a leaf of a tree. — Photo by Eftodii Aurelia on Pexels.com

Before I do, though, there’s one important caveat: All parts of native birds, including shed feathers, are protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918. This is to protect them from poaching by ensuring that there isn’t a legal market for their feathers, bones, etc. If you see a shed feather outside and you aren’t sure if it’s from a native species, invasive species, or domesticated species, leave it right where it is.

Feather Folklore

Feather pillows can also be a source of ominous omens. In Appalachia, death crowns or angel crowns are complex, crownlike whorls of feathers found in the pillows of the deceased. Usually, they’re only found after the person has died — it’s unlikely that anyone would go probing their pillow for death crowns otherwise. However, it is said that, if you find and break up a death crown in someone’s pillow, you can prevent their death.

In Celtic legend, feathers are commonly associated with the Otherworld. Some fairies are said to wear cloaks trimmed with red feathers, and The Morrigan wears a cloak of black ones.

The Morrigan isn’t the only goddess to have a feather cloak. Freyja, the Norse Goddess of love, war, sex, and magic, is said to have a cloak of gray falcon feathers (fjaðrhamr). This cloak grants her the ability to shape-shift into a falcon at will.

In Egyptian legend, Ma’at is associated with the Feather of Truth. She is the personification of truth, justice, and balance, and this feather is a representation of her. When a person dies, their heart is placed on a scale and weighed against this feather. The hearts of virtuous people are lighter than this feather, and they are allowed to pass on to Aaru, the Field of Reeds. The hearts of the wicked are heavy, and they are devoured by the goddess Ammit.

In Greek legend, Hera, the Goddess of marriage, family, and women, took the peacock as her sacred animal. She’s also the one responsible for the male peafowl’s beautiful, unusual plumage.
When Zeus seduced Io, he knew his wife would be jealous. He either turned Io into a white cow (another one of Hera’s sacred animals) to protect her from his wife, or Hera transformed her herself. Either way, Hera set the many-eyed giant, Argus Panoptes, to watch over her new prized cow. Having many eyes, he only needed to close a few at a time in order to sleep. This made him the perfect watchman… until Hermes came along.
Zeus asked Hermes to free Io. Hermes, in turn, disguised himself as a shepherd and used charms to put all of Argus’ many eyes to sleep at once, then killed him. Having lost her watchman, Hera immortalized him by placing his many eyes on the tailfeathers of the peacock.

A male peacock, tailfeathers spread to show their distinctive eye-spots. — Photo by Alexas Fotos on Pexels.com

In North America, Indigenous people have also attached significance to feathers for ages. Eagle feathers, in particular. (I remember being at a Powwow where another dancer I knew had dropped an eagle feather. It was retrieved from the ground with ceremony, treated as a fallen warrior. It was a very emotional experience, especially for her.)
Indigenous textile artists have also woven feathers into warm blankets and beautiful garments (sometimes called match-coats).

In modern witchcraft, feathers are commonly used as representations of the East or element of Air.

The Symbolism of Feathers

In addition to representing the East, Air, multiple deities, and various concepts of the Otherworld, feathers are also considered an “angel sign.” These “angel signs” are a collection of circumstances that are said to indicate that one’s guardian angels, spirit guides, or ancestor spirits are nearby. They include finding white feathers or shiny coins, hearing mysterious music, or smelling sweet, unexplainable smells.
It’s important to be careful with angel signs, however, since so many of them have mundane explanations. It’s very easy to get caught up in looking for signs, start interpreting everything as some kind of “angel sign,” and end up in spiritual psychosis, where the desire for significance blurs the line between reality and delusion.
Sometimes, an angel number is an angel number. Sometimes, it means you spend too much time looking at the clock. Similarly, sometimes, finding a feather is an “angel sign.” Sometimes, it means your neighborhood has stray cats.

Feathers are also subject to color symbolism. Finding a feather of a specific color is said to have a specific meaning. For example:

White feathers are positive omens, or indicate the presence of benevolent beings.
Black feathers symbolize protection.
Red feathers can represent protection, passion, or good fortune.
Blue feathers represent peace.
Green feathers symbolize abundance or fertility.
Yellow feathers represent joy.
Orange feathers symbolize creativity.
Ground feathers are omens of stability and groundedness.
Gray feathers, like blue ones, represent peace.

Of course, all of this is highly contextual. If you’re at a duck pond, the presence of white or gray feathers is unremarkable and not likely to represent anything but the presence of ducks.
On the other hand, finding a bright green feather in your yard, when you don’t have an abundance of green birds in your area, may be a bit more significant.

Feathers represent all kinds of things, but their primary association is with the fine line between this world and the others. They are tools of shapeshifters and symbols of creatures capable of traveling between worlds. If you find a feather outside, appreciate it for its beauty, see if you can identify what species it came from, and leave it be to return to the soil. If you work with feathers in your practice, source them from pets or well-treated backyard fowl.

Plants and Herbs

Angelica Root Folklore and Magical Uses

July 17, 2024July 17, 2024 J.Leave a comment

Recently, my Handsome Assistant experienced a minor vehicular mishap. He was on a motorcycle, so things could’ve been a lot worse, but his injuries weren’t too serious and he’s recovering well.

When he first got his bike, I made him a safe travel charm that he’s kept with him everywhere he rides. He’s dodged the “serious motorcycle accident” bullet, and it could use a refresh. This got me thinking about protective charms in general, which, naturally, led me to what’s probably one of the strongest of them all: angelica root.

Seriously. It’s probably a little too good at what it does, but more on that below.

Angelica Magical Properties and Folklore

An old botanical illustration of angelica. The caption at the bottom reads, "Angelica aquatica radice odoratissima floribus ex alboflavescentibus. Ital. Angelica maggiore odorata. Gall. Angelique."

Also known as wild celery, masterwort, and archangel, angelica (Angelica archangelica) and celery are related as members of the family Apiaceae. Angelica archangelica is native to far northern Europe and Russia. Another species known as angelica, masterwort, or purple-stemmed angelica (Angelica atropurpurea) is native to wet areas in the eastern US.

The name angelica derives from the plant’s blooming period. Its flowers typically appear around Michaelmas, the feast of the Christian Archangel Michael.

In both Western European folklore and the Hoodoo tradition, angelica is associated with protection, particularly from evil spirits. It’s also occasionally used to break hexes, jinxes, or curses, depending on their nature.

Purple-stemmed angelica (A. atropurpurea) has a long history of use as both a sacred and medicinal plant by Indigenous people of the southeastern US. It could calm anxiety, ease back pains, soothe stomach trouble, and treat parasites in children. It’s also used in healing ceremonies and as a purification herb. This puts purple-stemmed angelica in the same group as many other purification herbs the world over — namely, herbs that both drive off evil or unwanted energy, and get rid of physical parasites or pests.

Angelica is also sometimes associated with luck, love, and psychic abilities. This may be because it’s so good at keeping unwanted interference at bay — combined with other herbs more directly suited to these purposes, it can keep one’s magical path clear.

On the other hand, angelica also has a reputation for being a bit too good at what it does. According to the (no longer extant) Pooka Pages’ “Concerning the Magical Properties of Herbs & Oils,” angelica may also keep away some things that you do want. If you’re attempting to use it to help you attract something into your life, it’s a good idea to keep this in mind — sometimes, those things aren’t without risk, so angelica may not be the best choice.

An angelica relative, A. sinensis, is also known as lady ginseng or dong quai. It grows in cool, mountainous areas of east Asia, and has a long history of use in Chinese medicine.

Using Angelica

Honestly, there are few protective charms more convenient than a whole angelica root. They’re sort of lumpy and oblong, but firm, compact, and easy to stash in a pocket, bag, sachet, or any other container. I’ve never had one that was crumbly or messy, either.

Hold it in your dominant hand, tell it what you’d like it to do, project this thought, request, or energy into the root, thank it for its help, and you’re good to go. You can also anoint it with an oil, if you’d like.

You can hang a whole angelica root over your front and back doors to keep unwanted forces out or bury a root at each corner of your property.

A budding wild angelica plant (Angelica sylvestris).

Soak an angelica root in water, then add the water to a floor or door wash, sprinkle it in corners of a room, or pour it along the borders of your property to ward off evil and strengthen magical boundaries.

Angelica roots also make lovely additions to protective oils themselves. Put it in a neutral carrier oil and let it infuse in a cool, dark, dry area, shaking it regularly. If you want a stronger fragrance, add essential oils just before you bottle the finished product. For this, you might want angelica root pieces rather than the whole root — it’ll have an easier time transferring its fragrance to the oil if it has more surface area.

Since the roots are fragrant themselves, and hold other fragrances well, they’re great additions to potpourri or other scented herb mixtures.

You can also eat A. archangelica stems and roots. However, you may not be able to find them in your local grocery store, and they can be challenging to identify in the wild. They have several poisonous lookalikes, so you should never consume anything that you’ve only tentatively identified as angelica. Unless you’re an expert forager yourself, get an expert forager’s opinion first. As the saying goes, you should be as confident identifying a wild edible as you would be identifying it in a grocery store. Otherwise, don’t eat it.

Angelica may not be the most versatile magical plant, but it’s one worth knowing. It’s one of the best at what it does, sometimes to the point of being too effective. It’s one of those herbs that I find it’s better to have on hand and not need, than to need and not have on hand. Whole roots aren’t too expensive, and you can use them to steep in water for magical baths, washes, or asperging, infuse them in oil, or use them whole as protective talismans.