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Today’s Plant a Flower Day!

March 12th is Plant a Flower Day. While the idea of dedicating a day to planting seeds goes back pretty far, this is a fairly recent innovation that likely originated in the US. A lot of the seasonal celebrations that I follow revolve around things like seed swaps, observing wild plants as they exit dormancy, and planting seeds as a form of sympathetic magic, but I also like observing days like this.

Of course, the best way to observe Plant a Flower Day is to select a native (or carefully-selected nativar) flower variety for your area, choose a spot in your yard, and conscientiously plant it. You’ll increase your local area’s biodiversity and provide a source of food and shelter for native insects (who really, really need it) and birds.

Bees on ornamental allium flowers.

If your garden is dedicated toward food rather than flowers, consider planting an edible species. Nasturtiums, for example, are beautiful, easy to grow, and taste nice. (You can even pickle the seeds and use them as a substitute for capers!) As far as native edible flowers go, violets are lovely, a very nice groundcover, edible, and there are a number of varieties native to various parts of North America. White wood sorrel produces very pretty little white flowers, and both the flowers and leaves have a tart taste that’s very nice in salads. Wherever you live, I can pretty much guarantee that there’s a native flower that can feed the birds, bees, butterflies, and you.

And, just because this is a secular observance doesn’t mean that you can’t work some magic into it. Planting seeds is a very common and easy type of sympathetic magic — as the seeds grow and flourish, so, too, should the intention with which you planted them. Get together with a partner, hold a handful of seeds, and visualize yourselves having a happy, peaceful relationship. Choose seeds of herbs associated with prosperity, picture your bank account growing, and plant them. The only real trick here is that you need to keep the seeds tended. If they die from neglect, you may soon find your intention following suit!

Even if you don’t have the space to dedicate to a flower garden, consider planting some seeds in a pot on a windowsill. It’s good for your mental and physical health, and it can help you bring the energy of spring into your home. Plus, if you choose an edible variety, it’s pretty much close-to-free food and decor in one.

Plants and Herbs

Apple Folklore and Magical Properties

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.

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.

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.

Plants and Herbs

Hen and Chicks Folklore and Magical Uses

Do you have little to no success with plants?
Do you want to get into gardening, but lack confidence?
Hoo boy, are hen and chicks succulents made for you.

Members of the genus Sempervivum, these succulents are also known as “live forever” or “houseleek.” They have the plump leaves of your average succulent but can thrive in growing zones 9-4. I have one that I stuck in a pot on my deck and did literally nothing for — not even water — and it’s filled the pot, put out tons of little green pups, and is flowering like there’s no tomorrow.

A top-down view of a Sempervivum plant in a pink pot. In the center of the photo, several pink flowers and buds are visible.
A close up of that plant’s first flowers. In the background, you can kind of see other buds emerging on their talk stalks.

Along with their easygoing nature, hen and chicks plants have some interesting folklore and usages in magical disciplines.

Let’s look at their common names first. “Hen and chicks” derives from their most notable method of reproduction — in addition to producing seeds, they send off little offsets in the form of round rosettes which give the impression of a large mother “hen” plant surrounded by baby “chicks.” They’re called “live forever” because they’re evergreen and very difficult to kill. Lastly, the name “houseleek” has no relation to the other plants known as leeks. Instead, the word “leek” comes from the Anglo-Saxon word “leac,” meaning “plant.”

As for why they’re called something that literally translates to “house plant,” there’s an excellent reason for this. Hen and chicks plants were (and are) frequently grown on houses. (When I lived in California, the house I stayed in had some lovely Sempervivum growing on the roof.) This practice originated with the belief that these plants helped to ward off fire and lightning strikes.

These plants are also associated with prosperity, health, and luck. Possibly as an extension of their fire- and lightning-protective connections, some cultures grew Sempervivum on roofs as a way to ensure the health and wealth of a house’s occupants. In Wales, these plants are still sometimes grown on roofs for luck.

(Of course, if you live in the US and have an average modern shingle roof, you may not want to grow plants there. Excess moisture could cause problems, and using your roof as an ersatz garden could void your warranty. Sempervivum are great for green roofs, however.)

As for warding off fire and lightning strikes, there are a few reasons for this. Some species of Sempervivum grow fine, snow-white hairs on them, that look a bit like fine wool or thick cobwebs, and their growth habit can make them resemble a jutting, sculpted beard. This is reflected in the German name “Donnerbart,” or “Thunder beard.” These plants are connected to various thunder deities, like Thor and Zeus.

Sempervivums clinging to a rock face.
Photo by Honglei Yue on Pexels.com

The other reason behind it is that Sempervivum can act less as a protector than as an indicator. These plants can thrive in very dry areas, but they still need some moisture to stay plump and green. The presence of healthy hen and chicks plants generally indicates that conditions aren’t conducive to combustion.

Houseleeks are also used to ward off attacks by malevolent magic.

Medicinally, Sempervivum plants are used similarly to Aloe vera. Topically, it is sometimes a treatment for cuts, burns, or warts. This herb was also considered a very useful treatment for diarrhea, while larger doses were a powerful emetic. Traditionally, it’s considered a very cooling herb.

Elementally, Sempervivum is associated with Fire. It is also connected to all thunder deities.

From everything I’ve seen, Sempervivum‘s protective and lucky magical attributes are best employed by simply growing them. Give them a sunny spot and some well-draining soil in the right growing zones, and they’re pretty much good to go. (Of course, if you intend to use your hen and chicks plants in this fashion, it’s good form to ask them for their help.)

While these plants aren’t native to the US, I have noticed that they seem to be a favorite of small native pollinators. So far, I’ve seen three different species of sweat bee. They’re also useful for xeriscaping in especially challenging areas.

As I mentioned previously, you may want to avoid growing them on your roof. Yes, it’s very picturesque and cottagecore, and yes, it’s traditional, but having to pay upwards of five grand to fix or replace a modern shingle roof is none of those things. Plants trap moisture, which roofs need to shed. Their roots can infiltrate minute gaps between shingles, widening them and allowing water in. It may not happen immediately, but growing plants directly on a conventional roof, without any kind of barrier or container between the two, is generally not a good idea.
If you have a flat spot near your roof, like a windowsill, window box, or balcony, stick a couple Sempervivum plants in terracotta pots and put them there instead.

As for using them internally, I don’t recommend it. If you have a minor burn and don’t have a fresh aloe leaf handy, by all means, try applying some Sempervivum goop topically. Using these plants as an anti-diarrheal or purgative has largely dropped off in favor of other remedies, even in alternative medicine.

Hen and chicks plants are adorable, inexpensive, and exceptionally hard to kill. Magically, they’re just cute little protective and luck-drawing charms. If you have the space to devote to one (or a few), they’re well worth their tiny investment of time and money.

Plants and Herbs

Lemon Balm Folklore and Magical Uses

Et tu, lemon balm?

I have tried so hard to love it. It’s relaxing. It’s delicious. You can make it into tea or syrup or use it to flavor anything from sugar to fish. If you have anxiety, it’s touted as a virtually ideal way to calm down — the closest thing to an herbal benzo out there.

However, I can also tell you that, from personal experience, that it can also leave you waking up from a nap that leaves you like Robin Williams in Jumanji.

Fortunately, even if you are sensitive lemon balm’s very relaxing properties, there are other things you can use it for. It’s still very tasty in less-than-therapeutic doses and has an abundance of interesting uses in folk magic.

Lemon balm’s official name is Melissa officinalis. “Melissa” is Greek for “honey bee,” since the plant is a favorite of bees and was often planted to help attract them. Beekeepers would also pinch off fresh sprigs of the plant and rub them on the entrances of beehives to entice them to move in and stay.

(“Officinalis” (or “officinale”) just denotes organisms that are useful in medicine or cooking. Kind of like how “sativa,” “sativum,” and “sativus” just mean “cultivated,” and denotes crops grown from seed.
Cannabis sativa and Avena sativa are not closely related, to put it mildly.
Melissa officinalis, the lemon balm, and Sepia officinalis, the cuttlefish, are also not related.)

A sprig of lemon balm against a dark background.
Photo by Oksana Abramova on Pexels.com

Lemon balm is good for attracting more than just bees, though. Magically, it’s frequently used as an herb for good luck and general positivity. Tons of recipes feature it for love, fertility, and money.

To a somewhat lesser extent, lemon balm is also used for repelling evil and attracting good spirits. Since it’s so fragrant, it was used to strew the floors of Christian churches. In Abruzzi, Italy, women who happened on wild lemon balm would crush a sprig between their fingers in hopes that the scent would ensure that Jesus Christ would guide them to Heaven.

Lemon balm is considered a sacred herb of Hecate. It’s said that she gave the knowledge of lemon balm and other “witches’ herbs” to her daughters, Medea and Circe.

As well as being a mild sedative, lemon balm is used to soothe digestive issues. However, while it’s a tasty and relaxing herb, it’s best avoided by people with thyroid issues. It can interfere with thyroid hormone replacement therapy.

In the past, lemon balm was also applied to scorpion stings, bites from rabid dogs, and the venom of serpents. Since this herb isn’t an antivenom or protective against rabies transmission, this practice likely met with very limited success.

Nobody seems able to agree on lemon balm’s planetary or astrological associations. Nicholas Culpeper called it an herb of Jupiter and the sign Cancer. Other authorities say it’s an herb of Venus, Neptune, or the Moon. It is considered a generally “Water”-y herb, which makes sense when you consider its ability to relax the mind and soothe the emotions.

I know I usually advocate for growing your own herbs whenever possible, but planting lemon balm is one of those situations where you really want to exercise caution. Lemon balm requires next to no maintenance. Like other members of the mint family, it spreads aggressively outside of its native habitat. Absolutely do not plant it in the ground unless you want the entire area to be lemon balm. Keep it in window boxes, pots, or even containers indoors. If you do grow it in a container outside, avoid placing that container directly on the soil. When I say this stuff spreads, I’m not messing around.

Photo by Alesia Kozik on Pexels.com

In my experience, mints do not smell very good when burned straight. Instead of making lemon balm into incense, consider using it to infuse alcohol for making sprays, or oils for anointing or making balms.

The easiest way to use lemon balm is just to sprinkle some of the dried leaves across your front doorstep. The second easiest is to brew it into a tea and either drink it, use it for washing crystals or other curios, or use it to wash the doors of your home. As you do this, visualize good fortune coming in, and back luck or malevolent spirits turning away.

Lemon balm is one of those herbs that’s readily available fresh, dried, or as an oil. You can try it in a tea, or, depending on how fancy your local shops are, in a gourmet syrup. Its flavor is refreshing, citrusy, and herbal, while also tasting quite unlike anything else. As far as magical ingredients go, it’s also hard to go wrong with lemon balm — it’s a useful herb for attracting good things (also bees) and keeping out the bad. All of that aside, I wouldn’t rely on this as a protective herb on its own, but it’s great for filling up an empty space with useful, positive energy.

Plants and Herbs

Chili Pepper Folklore and Magical Uses

Have you ever gone to the store with an idea of what you need, but no real list? And then you go home and discover that you’ve bought everything but a specific item you actually needed?

Tl;dr, I have a lot of pepper plants now.

See, I was going to the garden store for some tomato starts. (I love tomatoes. When my grandpa kept a garden, he grew big, fat beefsteak tomatoes and there are many, many photos of me and my sibling as tiny children with whole tomatoes in our hands, cheeks smeared with juice and seeds. I do not, however, try to grow tomatoes from seed because it is tedious and saving and fermenting them is Not a Good Time.)

Yellow peppers on a pepper plant.
Photo by Zen Chung on Pexels.com

Somehow, I managed to return with the herbs I wanted for some railing boxes, a bunch of pepper plants I never planned on, and exactly zero tomatoes. None. None tomatoes.

So, I figure now’s as good a time as any for a refresher on the many, many magical uses of the various cultivars of chili pepper.

Chili peppers are members of the Capsicum genus. 90% of the time, Capsicum annuum.
“What about jalapeños?” C. annuum.
“Bell peppers?” C. annuum.
“Serranos?” C. annuum.
“Habaneros?” Okay, those are C. chinense, but mostly due to a series of errors.

It’s been my experience that hot spices, in general, fall into two camps. While the heat of hot spices is great for acting as a kind of magical catalyst to really get things moving, this can be used in one of two ways. The “sweet heat” spices (your cinnamons, ginger, etc.) are commonly used for money, love, and passion. The other hot spices, like chili peppers, are commonly used to banish or protect. In both cases, hot spices are used to get things moving quickly. Whether you want things to move to you or away from you is the deciding factor.

A dried chili pepper, whole star anise, clove buds, and whole nutmegs on a wooden table.
Photo by Pranjall Kumar on Pexels.com

Hot peppers are good at repelling more than just unwanted people, entities, or energies. Capsaicin, the primary compound that gives peppers their heat, is a defensive mechanism to keep peppers from being eaten. Humans, massive weirdoes that we are, decided that capsaicin was delicious, actually, and no plant was gonna tell us what to do.
Birds are unaffected by capsaicin, so they’re a major means of pepper seed dispersal. They eat the brightly colored fruits and scatter the seeds in their droppings.

In Coahuila, Mexico, chili peppers are used to counter malevolent magic. Specifically, they’re a remedy against salting, a practice akin to Hoodoo foot track magic. The practitioner combines salt from the homes of three different widows and graveyard dirt taken from the burial site of someone who died violently, and sprinkles it in front of their intended victim’s front door. To counter this, the victim combines chili peppers, star anise, garlic, rue, rosemary, storax, and myrrh, and uses the mixture to fumigate every corner of their home to drive the evil out.

Chilis are also a remedy for the evil eye.

The Tsáchila people, who live near the foot of the Andes mountains in Ecuador, use chilis to foil a kind of vampiric entity called the red demon. This demon feeds on people’s blood, leaving them pale and lifeless. Burning chilis in a fire while serving chili pepper-laden food drives the creature away, since it can’t tolerate the spicy food or pepper fumes.

The Aymara people of Bolivia, on the other hand, add chilis to a pot of boiling water and other herbs to create a cleansing steam bath. Sitting under a blanket, in the steam, is said to drive out evil energies.

To be honest, anywhere you’ll find hot peppers, it seems you’ll find a ritual that involves burning them to drive out evil. It reminds me of a specific incident from my own life — I was making some spicy sautéed broccoli on the stove top and added the spices a little too early. The capsaicin heated up and became aerosolized, and the fumes drove my then-partner outside. So, burning hot peppers really can drive out malevolent influences!

Hot foot powder is another common use for chilis, specifically within Hoodoo. While specific recipes can vary from culture to culture and practitioner to practitioner, chili is usually the base. This is sprinkled in a target’s footprints, in their shoes, where they will walk (like in front of their door), or in a container with a photo of them, paper with their name written on it, or personal possession of theirs. This isn’t a strictly protective practice, though it is certainly used that way. It’s just meant to drive unwanted people away from the user. Some scholars of folk practices think that hot foot powder may be a variation of walkin foot, which is intended to create confusion in one’s target.

Of course, chilis also have their dark side too. One way to curse someone involves throwing specially prepared chili peppers into their home or workplace. The seeds may also be combined with other baneful ingredients, added to a fabric or paper parcel, and tossed in instead.

Medicinally, capsaicin triggers a cooling response in the body. It helps increase circulation and is often used as a topical “counter irritant” for muscle and joint pain. I personally have a few different muscle rubs and pain-relieving balms, and about half of them are capsaicin based.

Hot peppers are ruled (unsurprisingly) by the planet Mars and the element of Fire.

As mentioned above, chili peppers are excellent at making things go away.
(Well, except birds.)

Red and yellow peppers on a pepper plant.
Photo by Yan Krukau on Pexels.com

Someone bothering you? Find you someone who can make you some hot foot powder. Need protection? Add chili peppers (or the ashes or char from burned chili peppers) to protective salt and sprinkle it in the corners of all of your rooms. Getting badgered by malevolent magic or evil entities? Smoke ’em out by burning some chilis on charcoal. Just be careful with that last one — chili pepper fumes are no joke for babies, children, and people with respiratory disorders. Basically, don’t expose anyone to the smoke that you wouldn’t also want to spray in the face with bear mace.

I also want to reiterate that, while chili peppers are a magical catalyst, I’d avoid them in situations where you aren’t specifically trying to repel something in a hurry. If you’re looking to attract things instead, go for one of the “sweet heat” spices — like nutmeg, cinnamon, or ginger.

I would not advocate using them for malevolent magic. Don’t get me wrong, cursing is absolutely useful and appropriate in some situations, but that’s something you’re better off learning somewhere other than a random website.

Right now, we’re trying not to count our peppers before they hatch. Should we have an abundant harvest, we’ve got a dehydrator, several batches of mango and hot pepper mead, peach and hot pepper water kefir, pepper jelly, spicy dark chocolate, and plenty of other uses in mind. (I love sweet and spicy flavors together, and mango/pepper, peach/pepper, or red berries/pepper/chocolate are my favorites.) Here’s hoping for an abundant harvest!

Plants and Herbs

Plum Folklore and Magical Uses

In autumn of last year, my Handsome Assistant and I planted a plum tree. As we work on getting rid of the lawn in the backyard chunk by chunk, we’re replacing those chunks with tree guilds. We couldn’t decide what kind of fruit tree we wanted for that space — it had to be a dwarf variety, and it needed good disease resistance. If the fruit didn’t need a lot of processing to be edible, so much the better. I was torn between a sand pear and a cherry, but, in the end, we went with a beautiful little Pershore yellow egg plum (Prunus domestica).

Right now, it’s shed its pretty white flowers to leave behind a number of tiny green plums-to-be. While I was looking up ways to protect at least some of the fruit from the other yard denizens, I got caught up reading about some very interesting plum facts and folklore.

Plums have an interesting reputation across multiple cultures. They’re harbingers of spring, protectors against evil, and cultivators of romantic love.

When used as wood for wands, plum is said to be useful for healing. This may tie back to the idea of plums as promoters of vitality (and even immortality — ). Since plum trees also banish evil, plum wood wands are suitable for pretty much all magical workings.

In China, plum (Prunus mume) is one of the Four Gentlemen, along with orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum. The plum blossom’s five petals represent the five blessings of good luck, fortune, longevity, and joi, and wealth. Plum blossoms are also symbols of resilience, since they bloom so early — well before the last of the winter snow has melted away.

The plum blossom is one of the national symbols of Taiwan.

In Japan, plum trees are symbol of elegance and purity. They’re also charms against evil and are often planted in the northeastern area of gardens as a protective talisman.

White plum blossoms on a black twig.
Photo by Cats Coming on Pexels.com

Pershore, Worcestershire, has a designated Plum Charmer. This person plays music to the plum trees during the summer in order keep spirits away and ensure a good harvest. (This probably also has the effect of shooing hungry birds and squirrels away, which ensures that fewer plums get nibbled on!)

Unfortunately, good plum harvests are a bit of a double-edged sword. It was also said that plentiful plums mean cholera is sure to follow. (Cholera is caused by the bacterium Vibrio cholerae. Most human cholera cases are caused by consuming food or water contaminated with infected feces, and fruits in general [with the exception of sour fruits] are a potential vector for cholera when they’re prepared by someone affected by V. cholerae.)

I wasn’t able to find much information on plums as a fruit for love, other than the general ideal that any sweet, juicy fruit is suitable for love workings (or as offerings to deities of love and beauty). The blossoms are associated with beauty and marriage, however, and the coverlet on a bridal bed is sometimes referred to as a plum blossom blanket.

Overall, plums are a boundary tree. They’re planted in gardens to be a ward against evil. They bloom on the narrow line between winter and spring. This makes them a useful, surprisingly versatile plant to grow and work with — they seem to function as a way to keep unwanted influences at bay, clearing the way for whatever you want to accomplish.

Plums are associated with the elements of Water and Air, as well as the planet Venus.

Naturally, you could grow a plum tree and request that it guard your space, but that might require quite an investment of time, money, and room. Since plums are associated with keeping evil away, one easy way to make use of them is to hang a windfall plum branch over your front and back doors.

As far as love workings go, the simplest way to use plums there is to share one with a partner (or partner-to-be). For this, I’d probably choose a plum with a deep red flesh and a sort of heart (or, let’s be real, butt) shape. Of course, as with any love working, you’ll only want to do this with a consenting partner. Nobody likes to be sideswiped by a love spell.

Red plums nestled amid plum leaves.
Like these. Photo by ALINA MATVEYCHEVA on Pexels.com

Plums are stunningly beautiful trees with lovely, delicately scented blossoms. This year, it looks like we’ll be fortunate enough to be graced with plum fruit, too. While I don’t have any windfall branches or evil spirits to keep away, I am looking forward to plenty of preserves this summer.

crystals · Plants and Herbs

The Absolute Worst Crystals for Plants

It’s spring! Kind of!

Yesterday marked the average last frost date for my area (as calculated by the National Arboretum in DC). If you’re like me, you’re probably itching to get your garden started, or at least reclaim some desk space by moving your indoor plants outside for a little bit.

I’ve seen a lot of posts about using crystals and other minerals to help plants. You’ve probably seen the same kind of advice that I have — tuck a quartz point in with your plants to help them grow. Bury four green jades, one at each corner of your garden, to protect your plants and help them flourish.

This got me thinking: What are the absolute worst crystals you could conceivably use for your plants? If some crystals can help, it stands to reason that others can hurt. And hoo boy, can they ever.

While there aren’t many crystals whose metaphysical properties would cause problems in this context, there are definitely plenty that can harm your plants.
Or ruin your life.
Either or.

Halite is salt.
Like, it’s just rock salt.
When people joke about “going to the salt mines,” this is the stuff they’re talking about.

A crystal of halite. It kind of resembles a small pile of snow.

If you’ve ever heard about conquerors razing towns and salting the earth, you probably know that salt and plants don’t mix. (Well, not while they’re growing, anyway. Once harvested, washed, and lightly steamed, it’s a whole other story.)

The reason behind this is that plants’ roots take up water and dissolved nutrients through osmosis. Osmosis works because nature attempts to establish equilibrium. Things move from areas of high concentration to areas of low concentration, until that equilibrium is achieved. It’s much easier for cell membranes to allow water to pass into and out of the cell than to try to move minerals around, and this works out okay because soil almost always has less dissolved solutes in it than the plants’ cells do. The plants’ roothair cells let more water in, osmosis balances the concentration of solutes vs water on either side of the cell membranes, and everything’s good.

Since salt is very soluble, adding salt and water to soil can make it so that there’s more dissolved solutes in the soil than there are in the roothairs. Taking up more water won’t fix things, and so the roots end up losing water to their surroundings.

Some types of soil (specifically heavy clays) can also form compounds that are impermeable to water when they’re exposed to salt. All plants also depend heavily on soilborne bacteria and fungi, which tend to be much less resilient when exposed to sudden changes in their environment. (Like, say, adding a bunch of salt to it.) Kill off these crucial microorganisms, and the plants will soon follow suit.

Selenite, satin spar, and desert roses are all forms of gypsum. Gypsum is a calcium sulfate mineral. It’s also soft and somewhat soluble in water. This means that, when you go to water your plants, you’re likely melting these crystals at the same time. This not only damages the stones, it also deposits all of that calcium sulfate in the soil, altering its pH and potentially negatively impacting plant growth.

Interestingly, gypsum is one of the few materials that exhibits something called “retrograde solubility.” This means that it’s actually more soluble at lower temperatures than it is at higher ones. That’s not great news for anyone who may want to place a selenite specimen in their garden — as soon as a chilly rain hits, they may end up with a disappearing crystal and a whole bunch of dead plants.

Calcite is a calcium carbonate mineral. It’s not really soluble in regular water, but it is in dilute acids. It’s also pretty soft.

A lovely piece of orange calcite.

This means that calcite can easily be scratched by other minerals present in soil. Rainwater also tends to be on the acidic side, so placing it in your garden or watering your plants with saved rainwater can cause it to dissolve over time. This will alter the pH and level of solutes in the soil, which can be detrimental to your plants. While that’s less likely to be catastrophic in a whole garden, it can definitely cause problems for the small volume of soil in the average plant pot.

Hematite is an ore of iron. When it’s found in nature, it often doesn’t look like the smooth, mirrorlike, silvery-black pieces commonly seen in stores. In fact, it usually looks closer to a hunk of vaguely rusty metal. Some massively crystal specimens can exhibit that shiny silver-black appearance, but a lot of inexpensive hematite is rough and rusty and gets polished up before sale.

Hematite is fine to occasionally clean with fresh water, as long as it’s dried soon afterward. It isn’t great to put in with plants or outdoors, though, because this creates the right conditions for it to rust. That’ll damage the stone and leach all kinds of iron oxides into the soil. While natural soil is often pretty high in iron oxides already (like the red clay in my garden), it’s definitely not something you want to introduce if you can avoid it.

While hematite is a form of iron oxide, pyrite is an iron sulfide. The concern here isn’t rust, however. The “sulfide” portion of pyrite’s chemical formula is a bigger problem than the “iron” bit.

A close-up of a chunk of pyrite.

Pyrite is considered insoluble in water, but there’s a lot more than just water going on where plants grow. When pyrite is exposed to both moisture and oxygen, it oxidizes. This produces iron ions (specifically Fe2+) and sulfuric acid. In fact, the oxidation of pyrite and the resulting acid has been responsible for a number of ecological disasters.

This isn’t to say that putting a piece of tumbled pyrite in your yard is instantly going to turn it into a Superfund site, but it’s still best avoided whenever practicable. At best, you’ll end up with damaged pyrite. At worst, a lot of dead plants and possibly a stern letter from the city.

Okay, so. Cinnabar is divisive. On one hand, some mineral enthusiasts act like it might as well be plutonium. On the other, some claim it’s absolutely no big deal.

Here’s the thing: Cinnabar is an ore of mercury, and mercury is toxic. However, mercury is at its least toxic when it’s in its elemental (aka, scoodly silver liquid) form. Metallic mercury isn’t all that well absorbed through your skin during brief, incidental contact — it’s much more dangerous when it’s in its organic form, or as a salt. This is not to say that cinnabar or mercury is safe to handle, I just want to avoid engaging in too much hyperbole.

Mercury vapor, on the other hand, can be readily absorbed by lung tissue. While it takes temperatures of about 674 °F (357 Â°C) to boil mercury, mercury doesn’t need to boil to evaporate and contaminate the air. Even just breaking an old fashioned thermometer can contaminate indoor air for a significant amount of time if it isn’t appropriately cleaned up.

While it’s true that cinnabar is traditionally roasted to liberate liquid mercury, some specimens do exhibit beads of pure mercury on their surfaces.

Anyhow, all of this is to say that the question of “how safe is cinnabar for plants” is too complicated for me to say that it’s safe. Cinnabar was used as a decoration (and even cosmetic) in antiquity, but buildings also weren’t nearly as air-tight as they are now. (Also, a lot of people lost their minds, went into convulsions, and died back then, while doctors blamed things like “eating cherries and milk,” “riding too fast,” and “wearing lace.”)

In the interest of safety, maybe just keep cinnabar away from heat, water, soil, your plants, your lungs, small children, et cetera. It might be safe, but it might not, and you might not find out how unsafe until it’s too late.

“But J,” you might be saying, “Everything says that quartz is perfectly safe in water. It’s not going to dissolve, leach anything weird, kill my plants, or turn my yard into an acidic death pit. What gives?” And you’re absolutely right!

It can, however, burn your house down.

The issue here isn’t so much the quartz itself as it is the refractive quality of crystal spheres. If the sun hits a clear glass or crystal sphere in just the right way, it can produce an effect similar to the sun shining through a magnifying glass. Crystal spheres have the ability to concentrate sunlight into a laser, and this laser can burn stuff.

So, while other crystals are mostly a problem if they get wet, crystal spheres are a problem if they’re sitting in a window. Like, say, where one might place a sun-loving potted plant.

This issue doesn’t just end at your front door, either. While I haven’t read reports of crystal balls starting fires when placed outdoors, the combination of intense sunlight, dry vegetation, and a clear sphere can definitely cause some trouble. If you have vinyl siding, the reflection of the sun just off of a neighbor’s windows can be enough to damage your home’s exterior.

Assuming you’re not in the mood to ruin your horticulture (or your life) with an ill-placed stone, the solution is pretty easy.

You can opt for different crystals instead. Any variety of silica-based mineral will work, as long as it isn’t able to concentrate sunlight. Moss agate, while not a “true” agate, is a lovely green type of cryptocrystalline silica. Jades are silicates, too.

For stones that shouldn’t get wet, like your gypsums and sulfides and such, you can always place them near indoor plants. Just avoid putting them in places where they’ll come in contact with water or the soil.

For quartz spheres, it’s best to keep them covered when they aren’t actively in use. (That’s a big part of where the custom of covering one’s scrying ball comes from.) If you have to put them in with your plants, either bury them entirely in soil or place them in a small, opaque bag first. Just keep them out of the sunlight.

That’s pretty much it. Do your homework on the chemical composition of your crystals, avoid stones that will actively turn into acid or poison when exposed to water, and be careful with the ones that’ll burn your house down.
Happy growing!

life · Plants and Herbs

Grassassination, a Year and a Half Later.

It’s been a while since I’ve written about my ongoing battle against the lawn. It started with a tarp, then went on to solarizing, then sheet mulching, then replacing the unwanted turf grass with native groundcovers, to discovering some kind of gigantic alien mystery plant we didn’t plant that accidentally ended up being delicious.

So, since it’s been about a year and a half, how’s it going?

The grass hasn’t come back. Instead, the area is made up of (mostly) mulch, interspersed with some slow-growing moss phlox (Phlox subulata), bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), violets (Viola sororia), and echinacea (Echinacea purpurea) plants. Occasionally, I’ll find a patch of native wild onion (Allium canadense). The border closest to the house is made up of non-native strawberries, which the birds, squirrels, carpenter bees, and also I seem to enjoy. Along the front path, there’s thread leaf coreopsis (Coreopsis verticillata). In the center, there’s the little redbud tree (Cercis canadensis).

A white Phlox subulata flower.
A flower from one of the white Phlox subulata plants. These guys actually flowered pretty much all through winter!

There are also small mats of non-native “weeds,” like chickweed, purple deadnettle, and speedwell. These aren’t exactly what I was going for, but they do have several advantages over grass:

  1. I’m not allergic to them. Flowering plants like these are typically pollinated by insects. Grasses are wind pollinated. Wind pollinated plants are much more likely to be responsible for allergies, because their pollen ends up in the air (and eventually your eyes, nose, and lungs). This is also why bee pollen is generally not a great way to desensitize oneself to hay fever — it’s primarily made up of sticky, heavier flower pollens, rather than the wind-carried pollens that people with hay fever most commonly react to.
  2. They’re edible. Chickweed is actually pretty nutritious, and so is purple deadnettle. I’m not up on all of the nutrition facts and medicinal uses of speedwell, but I am assured that it is also edible.
  3. They’re not invasive enough to be restricted. While these three plants aren’t native species, they typically have pretty shallow root systems and aren’t super competitive.
  4. They require no effort. Unlike lawn grasses, they don’t need fertilizing, pesticide, weed treatment, or supplemental irrigation. While they’re not as beneficial as native groundcovers, they’re at least not a net negative like turf grass.
  5. They’re an early food source for pollinators and small herbivores. Since they’re not native to the US, they haven’t evolved alongside our native pollinators and thus aren’t really an ideal source of nectar. They do, however, provide more food that a mowed monoculture lawn does.
  6. Honestly, it looks better. I’m not a fan of the manicured look of suburban lawns. This spot has a ways to go still, but tiny blue, purple, and white flowers and multi-hued foliage beat grass any day.

Tiny blue speedwell flowers.
Itty bitty speedwell.

Should anyone run out and sow a speedwell, deadnettle, or chickweed lawn? No, not in the US. (Non-native clover lawns aren’t really a great idea, either.) Nonetheless, I’m in less of a hurry to eradicate these plants than I was to get rid of the grass. It’s reassuring to see other plants moving into an area that was once a mowed, lifeless monoculture.

And, if you’re an invasivore, you can always eat them.

Bright purple Phlox subulata flowers.
Some of the purple moss phlox. Oddly, these guys didn’t flower as resiliently as the white did. They’re putting out more flowers now, though!

This year, the plan is to plant more moss phlox and bee balm, and maybe another coreopsis or two. I’d also like to find a source for native strawberries. These grow in slightly different conditions to the cultivated strawberries you usually see in garden stores and groceries and are a good addition to “edible landscaping” plans. For now, I’m pretty happy with the progress this little patch of dirt has made!

Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

Pea Folklore and Magical Uses

As I mentioned in my tiny plant haul, I recently picked up some packets of snap peas. I was never really a fan of peas growing up — mostly because the ones I was exposed to were the mushy, grayish kind from a can. Few things can beat a fresh, sweet peapod off of the vine, though, and they’re legitimately fun to grow!

Three pea pods, split to reveal the peas inside.
Photo by R Khalil on Pexels.com

Soon, it’ll be time to start peas from seed in my growing zone. Since I’m kind of champing at the bit to get them started, I figured this would be a good time to look into all of their folklore, symbolism, and magical correspondences.

Sweet peas and rosary peas aren’t that closely related to garden peas, or even sugar snap peas. Sweet peas (Lathyrus odoratus) are grown for their flowers and have toxic seeds. Rosary peas (Abrus precatorius), as their name implies, are grown for beads and are fatal if ingested — if it’s thoroughly chewed, a single rosary pea is enough to kill an adult human. Garden, snow, and sugar snap peas are different cultivars of Pisum sativum, and are grown for their edible shoots, pods, and seeds. L. odoratus, A. precatorius, and P. sativum are members of the family Fabaceae, but so are plants like lupine, Scotch broom, and logwood trees. For this reason, it’s important to draw a distinction between folklore and magical uses of edible peas, versus sweet pea or rosary pea.

A pair of pink sweet pea flowers.
Sweet peas in bloom. These are grown for their beauty and fragrance, and are definitely not edible. Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

Peas are an incredibly old food source grown around the world. While garden peas (Pisum sativum) are thought to have originated around Pisa, in Italy, they’ve also been found in Egyptian tombs, and the earliest evidence of them dates back to the Neolithic era, in what is now Greece, Jordan, Turkey, and Syria. They are considered to be one of the first food crops domesticated by humans.

According to British lore, pods containing nine peas are considered lucky.

Peas were used to cure warts through sympathetic magic. This is a very common old wart-removal method — you touch or rub the wart with an object, then burn, throw away, or bury said object. As it decays, the wart shrinks. In this case, the afflicted person would touch a wart with a pea, wrap the pea in a bit of paper, then bury it in the ground. When the pea broke down, so too would the wart.

Peas are a cool-weather crop, and don’t do very well in heat. One old rhyme about the planting of peas and beans says, “Be it weal or be it woe, Beans should blow before May go.”

Pea pods growing on the vine.
Photo by Gilmer Diaz Estela on Pexels.com

Green peas are used in formulas for health or money. Yellow peas, on the other hand, are best for luck. In some cultures, carrying a dried pea in your purse or pocket is said to attract good luck.

Dried peas are also used for divination. They’re shaken up and cast, similarly to the way you might cast bones or runes. You then read the patterns that they form.

As a common food crop, using peas is pretty easy — especially if you like kitchen witchery. Cook and eat peas to bring in more wealth, health, and luck.

Dried peas can be added to sachets or bowls to attract money. Combine them with dried herbs like chamomile, basil, cinnamon, patchouli, and cinquefoil. Add this to a bowl containing a few pieces of citrine and/or pyrite, and some coins. Keep the bowl clean and free of dust, and periodically refresh it with new herbs and more coins. Never remove the coins from the bowl.

If you have a difficult decision to make, take one seed pea for each of your options. Plant them, carefully marking which pea corresponds to each option. Keep an eye on them as they sprout — their growth and vigor can provide guidance on what to do.

Peas are a useful magical ingredient that’s easy to grow yourself, even if all you have is a tiny space and a pot. They’ve got fiber and protein, are associated with luck, money, and healing, and keep well once dried. All told, no matter whether you’re into kitchen witchery or not, these little guys are a very useful addition to your store of magical ingredients.

Plants and Herbs

Radish Folklore & Magical Properties

We’re fortunate to have a service in our area that delivers goods from the local farmers’ market. Even if we can’t go there ourselves for whatever reason, we can still pick out what we want and get it dropped off for not a whole lot of money. A week’s worth of fruit and vegetables for us is about $40, plus $2-4 for delivery. Pad that out with beans and rice or potatoes, and it’s a good way to have a reasonably healthy, varied, local diet without spending a ton or having to go to the store a bunch. If you have fewer people to feed, a box with five items of your choice is only $25ish. It’s nice.

This week, we’re getting celery, bok choy, apples, tomatoes, kale, fennel, and a ton of radishes. Why so many radishes? ‘Tis the season! They’re cool weather plants that mature in a short time, so there’s always a bunch available in spring and autumn.

Radishes originated in China and entered the historical record in the 3rd century BCE, and spread across Europe from there. They were also one of the first plants introduced to the Americas by European colonizers.

A close up of some radishes, still in the soil. The tops of the round, red roots are visible just above the soil line.

In antiquity, opinions on radishes were divided. Pliny and Discorides prized them, while Hippocrates claimed that they were “vicious” and difficult to digest.

To be fair, radishes are cruciferous vegetables. This puts them in the same group as plants like kale, mustard, cauliflower, and broccoli. They’re not the easiest things in the world to digest and are notorious for causing gas.

Radishes were offered to Apollo, but not just any radishes. It was customary to present gifts to deities in the form of intricate carvings. Radishes were so prized, Apollo received ones made of solid gold.

In Oaxaca, Mexico, people observe the Night of the Radishes. Artists compete by creating intricate sculptures carved entirely from radishes. These aren’t the typical small, round guys you see in the grocery store, however — they’re a specially grown variety cultivated specifically for this festival.

An old folk remedy for nagging and gossip involved tasting a radish before bed while fasting. This was said to protect men from being harmed by “the chatter of women.”

One old English book says that uprooting a radish while reciting the proper incantations would allow one to find witches. (Unfortunately, the author didn’t write down the incantations.)

Radishes are also associated with lust spells and protection. This makes sense, considering their peppery heat and red color. Both of these qualities are associated with sexual desire and protection and can be seen across many magical ingredients used for these purposes.

Wearing a garland of radish flowers around one’s neck was said to keep demons at bay.

The juice and oil of radishes were also considered protective and curative. Washing one’s hands in radish juice was said to enable one to safely handle venomous creatures. Another source claimed that dipping a whole radish in a glass of poison would render the poison safe to drink.
(Do not do any of these things pls.)

In Germany, radishes were associated with evil spirits. Well, one specific evil spirit: the demon Rübezahl. He is a mountain spirit who is often portrayed as a trickster figure. On one hand, he could help humans and teach them the secrets of medicine. On the other, he represents the capriciousness of the weather of the mountains. In Czech fairytales, Rübezahl (called Krakonoš) gave humans sourdough.

It’s also said that he was fond of taking whatever he pleased without asking. He kidnapped a princess who was very fond of radishes (in some versions, turnips) and locked her away in a tower. When the princess began to wither away from loneliness, the spirit turned a radish into a cricket. He warned her that, once the leaves of the radish began to wither, the cricket would die. The clever princess sent the cricket off to find her true love and bring him back to rescue her. Sadly, the radishes withered and the cricket died before he could, but he succeeded in chirping his tale to all of the other crickets in the world. Now, whenever you hear crickets chip, you hear them tell the tale of Rübezahl and the stolen princess.

It should be noted that Rübezahl is actually a mocking nickname — it’s more respectful to refer to him as Lord of the Mountains, Herr Johannes, or Treasure Keeper.

As a common culinary ingredient, radishes are pretty easy to use. Combine them in a salad with other ingredients that relate to your intention, and enjoy. Radishes, strawberries, and basil can be eaten (or fed to a consenting lover) for lust. Radishes, lettuce, oregano, and garlic can be eaten for protection. Radish greens are edible, too!

A bunch of red radishes on a cutting board, tied together with red and white string.

For best results, stick with young radishes. The older they get, the tougher and more difficult to digest they become.

Since radishes are a cool weather crop, they’re a good choice for off-season growth spells. For example, if you want to bring more love and lust into your life but it isn’t exactly growing season, you may still be able to get decent results by sowing radish seeds.

Since flowering radish tops repel evil, you may wish to include these plants in beds near your front, back, and side doors. Let them flower and keep your home protected from malevolent spirits.

Radishes are a fun, easy to grow, easy to use ingredient in food and spells alike. I remember growing some in a tiny plastic vegetable garden kit that came from McDonald’s when I was very little, and I’ve kind of had a soft spot for them ever since. If you have any space to dedicate to these little guys, give them a shot!