Plants and Herbs

Hyssop Folklore and Magical Properties

The anise hyssop in my little pollinator garden is putting of spikes of beautiful purple flowers, so I thought I’d write a bit about the magical uses and folklore of hyssop.

A fun fact first, though — anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum) is not that closely related to actual hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis). Both of them are members of the mint family, Lamiaceae, but so are teak, rosemary, and chia. Anise hyssop is native to Central and North America, while hyssop is from the Mediterranean eastward to Asia.

Anise hyssop is definitely a useful plant, but I figured I’d cover hyssop-hyssop first. If you practice one of the many branches of European-based witchcraft or folk magic, you’re more likely to encounter Hyssopus in old texts.

Hyssop Folklore and Magical Uses

A lot of the modern lore about hyssop comes from its mention in the Bible. It’s indicated numerous times as a cleansing and protective herb. For example:

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

Psalm 51:7

Take a bunch of hyssop, dip it into the blood in the basin and put some of the blood on the top and on both sides of the doorframe. None of you shall go out of the door of your house until morning.

Exodus 12:22

To purify the house he is to take two birds and some cedar wood, scarlet yarn and hyssop.

Leviticus 14:49

When Moses had proclaimed every command of the law to all the people, he took the blood of calves, together with water, scarlet wool and branches of hyssop, and sprinkled the scroll and all the people.

Hebrews 9:19

There’s more, but you probably get the idea. However, this runs into the same problem as anise hyssop versus hyssop. The hyssop mentioned in the Bible is not H. officinalis. (Biblical hyssop is more likely to be Capporis spinosa or Origanum syriacum.) Nonetheless, I figured the Biblical references to hyssop were worth including because they inform quite a bit of the body of lore about H. officinalis.

A spike of bright violet-blue hyssop flowers.

The name “hyssop” derives from the Greek word hyssopos, which derives in turn from ezov or azob, the sacred hyssop mentioned in the Bible.

In Egypt, Priests used hyssop as an additive to purify food. This was necessary to make certain foods acceptable for their restricted diet.

Magically, hyssop corresponds to the element of Fire and the planet Jupiter. Following the uses of Biblical hyssop, it’s most commonly employed as a purification and protection herb.

Medicinally, a decoction of hyssop was used topically for treating head lice. It was also used a topical remedy for minor wounds.

In Europe, hyssop was used as a strewing herb. It’s fragrant and seems to have had some action against pests (like head lice, as mentioned above). This may have made it an effective way to keep fleas and other unwanted guests away!

This last bit is particularly interesting to me. In my herb lore reading, I’ve found that the Venn diagram between “herbs used magically for protection” and “herbs that keep bugs out” is almost, but not quite, a circle. Since the Biblical hyssop probably wasn’t hyssop at all, it’s interesting to me that the purposes of Biblical hyssop and European hyssop are so close. It raises a kind of chicken-and-egg scenario — was H. officinalis named for the Biblical hyssop because its pest repellent action “purified” spaces?

Using Hyssop

Sprigs of hyssop make lovely aspergilla. Dip them in water, and use them to asperge sacred spaces, rooms, people, or objects.

Brew hyssop as a tea, strain out the spent leaves, and add the water to ritual baths for purification, cleansing, and hex-breaking. Prepare hyssop the same way, then add to a bucket of fresh water and use it for washing floors, windows, and doors for the same purpose.

A fritillary butterfly on a spike of hyssop flowers.

Add dried hyssop to charm bags for protection, particularly against the evil eye.

Hyssop is sometimes used to season food, and that’s fine. It’s even sometimes used internally in a medical context, and that’s okay too (as long as it’s under the supervision of a qualified herbalist). Otherwise, avoid eating or drinking hyssop. Large doses can cause seizures and cause miscarriages. It’s not known how much of hyssop’s active constituents may pass through breastmilk, and the threshold for hyssop toxicity is much lower for children, so it’s best avoided while breastfeeding.

life

I did it!

A bit ago, I posted about having bloodwork done and discovering that my blood lipids and vitamin D levels were off. I then talked about some of the changes I was making in order to correct these things.

It is with immense relief that I can say: It worked!

Well, it’s still working.

My total cholesterol is now normal, as are my vitamin D levels. The only area of some concern is my LDL (low-density lipoprotein, or “bad cholesterol”) is very slightly higher than it should be. It has decreased, however, so I should be able to normalize it with time and a few more adjustments.

As I figured, the culprit was probably eating takeout. Even “healthy” options are often less than ideal — they’re really just healthier than, say, a burger and fries. If you’re traveling, without a kitchen, or otherwise unable to store and prepare your own meals, “healthy takeout options” are definitely better than the alternative. But, at the end of the day, all restaurant food is made with taste as its primary consideration. I knew this on a logical level. It’s just easy to let yourself ignore it when all you’re ordering is a salad or sandwich, you know?

Anyhow, I don’t have many other lifestyle changes I can make at this point. I can take a fiber supplement. I can explore some herbal remedies said to help maintain healthy blood lipids (ginger seems promising, for example). Other than that, we’re gonna have to get deeper into the weeds a little bit.

I don’t know how much I’ll speak on that, though, chiefly because I know attitudes toward medical care in the US are… complicated, at best. If I do expound on the alternative/complementary remedies I use, I don’t want someone to take that as evidence that these things will fix their own health issues. For one, their body is not my body, and thus their blood is not my blood. For two, it seems irresponsible. I feel like it might encourage someone to place outsized importance on my anecdotal evidence, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt because they refused effective conventional treatment because some outside-the-box shit I did might have helped fix what is really a very minor problem.

So yes. That’s where I am right now — happy, relieved, and figuring out my next steps. Wish me luck!

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Wild Bergamot/Bee Balm Folklore and Magical Properties

Monarda species, also known as bee balm, Oswego tea, and wild bergamot, is one of my favorite native flowers. The blooms themselves are striking, the leaves are fragrant, they spread very easily, and they thrive where other plants falter. They’re fantastic additions to permaculture guilds, since they’re good at attracting oft-neglected native US pollinators like the raspberry pyrausta moth. It’s also tolerant of juglone, a natural herbicide produced by black walnut trees.

Bright pink Monarda flowers, growing in a bed of maroon Coreopsis.
Some bright pink Monarda didyma flowers in my garden, planted along with some deep maroon-pink lance leaf Coreopsis.

The name “wild bergamot” is a bit misleading — these plants aren’t related to bergamot at all. Monarda is part of the mint family, while actual bergamot is a citrus fruit. I haven’t been able to find an explanation for why this group of plants is called wild bergamot, so I can only venture that it’s because of the fragrance of the leaves. They’ve a sort of minty-citrusy-herbal scent, very reminiscent of Earl Grey tea.

Wild Bergamot Magical Properties and Folklore

Monarda plants are native to the US and have a very important place in the medicinal lore of indigenous American people. The leaves soothe stomach aches when used internally, treat wounds externally, and ease headaches when used as a poultice. The name “bee balm” comes from the plants ability to calm bee stings.

After the Townshend Revenue Act of 1767, colonist American people began boycotting imported British tea. Instead, Monarda leaves provided a suitable substitute.

Bright pink Monarda flowers, of a cultivar called "Marshall's Delight."

Since Monarda is native to the US, you won’t find it in ancient herb lore or medieval European grimoires. It still has a pretty long history of use as a magical ingredient, however, as people have adapted to using what’s around them over the centuries.

Some magical resources claim that lemon balm and bee balm are synonymous. Though they’re both members of Lamiaceae, the mint family, they aren’t the same plants. Lemon balm is Melissa officinalis, native to Europe, and pretty sedating when drunk as a tea. Bee balms are Monarda species, native to the US, and gently stimulating.

Due to its associations with medicine, it’s considered a healing herb.

Monarda can also be used as a purifying and cleansing herb.

It is generally considered to be ruled by Mercury and the element of Air. Due to these planetary associations, it’s sometimes used in spells for money or success in business/academic endeavors.

Using Wild Bergamot

You’ll be pleased to know that, unlike a lot of the magical herbs I talk about, wild bergamot is edible. The whole thing. Stems, flowers, and leaves. The flowers can be used to add color and interest to salads, and the leaves make a wonderful tea. You can also use the leaves to flavor pork or poultry dishes. If you do want to eat your Monarda leaves, treat them like most other herbs: Harvest the leaves before the plant flowers, when they’re sweeter and more tender. They tend to get a bit tough and bitter after the plant matures and flowers appear.

Personally, I find wild bergamot leaves and flowers to be a very nice addition to drinkable/edible brews. Use it in place of Camellia sinensis leaves as a base for magical teas. Historically, it has been drunk to ease flatulence and as a gentle, general stimulant.

One thing I enjoy doing is making simple sugar cookies and decorating the tops with magical sigils. Candied flowers, chosen for their properties, can both decorate and empower these edible spells.

For purifying, pack some fresh leaves into a large muslin tea bag and place it under your bath faucet. You can also brew Monarda leaves into a tea, strain out the plant matter, add the liquid to a bath, and fully submerge yourself.

To purify spaces or groups of people, bundle fresh Monarda stems together, dip them in salt water, and use them to asperge.

Monarda is known to attract bees, as well as ease their stings. Since it’s connected to Mercury and Air, it’s also used as a success herb. Brew a strong tea from the leaves and use it to wash your front door and steps to attract success to your door like bees to a flower. You can also add this tea to floor washes, if you wish.

A prickly-looking Monarda seed head. Its rounded, comprising many small tubes formed by the base of the flowers.
A Monarda seed head. Each of those little “tubes” houses a single loose seed, which will be picked up by birds or scattered by the wind.

In general, Monarda is a very nice herb that plays well with others. In my experience, it acts as a general attractant — magically drawing in your desires the same way that the flowers call to hummingbirds, moths, and bees. Its flavor and scent are delicious and intriguing without being overpowering, so it’s an excellent addition to brews, kitchen witchery, and spell jars. (Most members of the mint family smell pretty acrid when burned, however, so I’d avoid putting it in incense.)

If you’re in the US, Monarda is a delightful addition to the garden. It’s easy to grow, thrives on neglect, and produces an abundance of seeds and rhizomes. You’ll have plenty to harvest and share, but, unlike non-native mints, it’s not considered invasive.

Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

Yarrow Folklore and Magical Properties

You know, I never really connected with yarrow. I know it’s kind of a magical herb staple, but I was always more into mugwort and its ilk. For some reason, yarrow just didn’t quite grab me the way that certain other herbs did.

All of that aside, I have lots of it now. When I embarked on my crusade to murder the grass and replace it with useful things (my rules are that they must either feed me or the local fauna, and preferably both), yarrow was a natural fit. It’s a lovely plant that gets tall enough to fill the space in my flower beds, and it’s very aromatic. Working with it in a gardening capacity has given me a new appreciation for it as a magical and medicinal herb, and the bees really seem to enjoy it.

Yarrow Folklore and Magical Uses

Yarrow is one of the oldest medicinal herbs. Like, pre-pre-history old. Archaeologists have identified yarrow among the belongings of a 65,000 year old Neanderthal.

Achillea specimens are found pretty much everywhere, with the exception of Africa and Antarctica. There are Achillea millefolium subspecies found in Europe, Asia, the Arctic, the Himalayas, the Alps, the Carpathians, the western US, Alaska, the US in general, and one particular that’s endemic solely to California. It’s probably not surprising that it’s often considered an aggressive weed, and may be best confined to areas that you either don’t mind having it take over, or allow you to control its spread.

Interestingly, all of these subspecies seem to have different medicinal effects. There’s some overlap, of course, but each subspecies appears to have different ratios of medicinal compounds.

The genus Achillea is named for the Greek hero Achilles. Chiron taught him the plant’s medicinal properties (specifically using it to treat wounds — hence its other common name, woundwort) and carried it into battle. It’s anti-inflammatory and antibacterial, so it’s a good plant to reach for to treat minor cuts, scrapes, and bruises.

White, yellow, and pink yarrow flowers in a green field at sunset.
Chiron was half-man, half-horse, and a great healer. That makes him the Centaur for Disease Control.

This connection with battle may be why yarrow is also used as an herb for courage.

Yarrow is a protective and purifying herb. Like many herbs used to cleanse and protect, this action is borne out by its ability to repel pests. Experiments with birds using yarrow as a nest lining found that it inhibits the growth of parasites. The connection between repelling pests and magical protection is seen pretty often, as with pennyroyal, or fennel, for example.

In Europe, scattering yarrow across the threshold of a home was believed to keep evil from entering.

Yarrow is historically a divination herb. In China, one way to cast the I Ching involved counting stalks of yarrow. In Europe, it was used for love divination. You’d take a yarrow leaf and stick it up your nose, tickling yourself with it as you said,

Yarroway, yarroway

Bear a white blow.

If my love love me,

Let my nose bleed now.”

Traditional

Another method for love-divination involved placing yarrow under your pillow. If you dreamt of your love, it was a positive omen. If you had a bad dream, or dreamt of other people, it wasn’t.

An old Gaelic incantation for yarrow-picking went thus:

I pluck the smooth yarrow,

That my finger be sweeter,

That my lips be warmer,

That my voice be gladder.”

Yarrow was said to be a sacred plant to the ancient Druids, used for weather divination.

In the Victorian language of flowers, yarrow represented everlasting love.

Yarrow is connected to Venus and the element of Water.

Using Yarrow

Since so many practitioners of witchcraft and Druidry have pets and small children, I probably wouldn’t recommend just strewing your threshold with yarrow. Instead, scatter some of the dried herb under your front doormat, where curious hands or snouts can’t get into it. You can also grow yarrow near your front door — it’ll feed your local pollinators and help keep evil away.

Yarrow hydrosol is another useful way to work with this herb. It’s good for your skin. (For real, an ointment containing yarrow was researched for its ability to help heal episiotomies. Ouch!) It can also have a purifying effect, so it’s a nice way to prepare yourself for rituals. The leaves and hydrosol are also fragrant, so the scent is a nice for getting into a magical mindset.

For divination, you could either learn to cast the I Ching with traditional yarrow stalks, or include it in a spray or sachet to use while reading tarot, runes, or Ogham staves. Including it in a dream pillow is said to lead to prophetic dreams.

A soft, dreamy image of pink yarrow flowers.

As a Venus-ruled herb, it’s also a good choice to include in love jars or sachets. Traditionally, its power was to help the user find their true love, and keep lovers together. That makes it a worthwhile addition to spell to draw in true love and help it last.

Medicinally, yarrow hydrosols, infusions, and ointments are great for topical conditions like stings, bug bites, scrapes, burns, scratches, cuts, and bruises. (Never put anything ointment-y over deep wounds, puncture wounds, or animal bites, however.) Teabags or poultices of yarrow are also nice for easing sore eyes — just be careful not to get yarrow in them! If you’re allergic to yarrow or other members of the Asteraceae family, skip yarrow and use something else.

This herb is also used for treating a ton of internal conditions, from digestive trouble to colds and flu. But, like I mentioned previously, each subspecies seems to have its specialties. Before using yarrow internally, you should consult with a qualified herbal practitioner to choose the safest and most effective herbs for your condition.

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Blueberry (and Bilberry) Folklore and Magical Properties

I love blueberries. Few things are as delightful as a fat slice of warm blueberry pie or cobbler, with a generous dollop of ice cream (or non-dairy ice cream equivalent, as it were).

I was very excited to find that the previous occupants of this house had planted some blueberry bushes in the back yard. Unfortunately, these bushes weren’t exactly thriving — they’d been planted in an area that’s under trees. It gets plenty of light during the late autumn to early spring, but very little in the warm months. Our soil is also hard clay, and it didn’t appear that the area had been given much organic matter.

So, as much as it worried me to do it, my spouse and I uprooted these bushes and moved them into a much sunnier spot, blended well with a generous amount of shredded bark and leaf compost. We also planted two more bushes of a different variety, to fill out the tree guild we’re building around the Chehalis apple tree I talked about two weeks ago.

A cluster of ripening blueberries on a bush.
Some lovely little unripe blueberries on one of the bushes in the back yard.

This post isn’t about soil composition and permaculture, though I could definitely go on for volumes if it was.

No. Today, I want to get into some of the folklore and magical uses of these wonderful little balls of deliciousness.

It should be noted that blueberries (Vaccinium angustifolium, V. corymbosum, et al) are a strictly New World fruit. There’s a European relative called the bilberry (or European blueberry, Vaccinium myrtillus) that’s very similar, and the magical properties of these fruits are virtually interchangeable. If you live in an area where bilberries are native, use bilberries. If you live where blueberries grow, use those instead.

Blueberry and Bilberry Folklore

While blueberries are named for their deep purplish-blue color, the name “bilberry” is likely of Scandinavian origin. The Danish word bølle means “whortleberry,” which is another word for certain members of Vaccinium including the bilberry.

You can tell blue- and bilberries apart by their fruits. Blueberries grow in clusters, are a purplish-blue, and have a blossom end that looks a bit like a pentagon with five pointed flaps. Bilberries grow alone or in pairs, are almost black, and have a circular, smoother blossom end.

A bilberry on a bilberry shrub. The blossom end is facing upward, showing a distinct lack of the pointed flaps found on blueberries.
As you can see from this bilberry’s “butt,” they have rounder blossom ends and lack the pointy flappy bits of American blueberries. Compare it to the unripe blueberries in the photo above this one.

In Ireland, bilberries (fraochán or fraughan) are traditionally gathered during the last Sunday in July and the first of August. The first of August is Lughnasadh, a festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. Bilberries and blueberries are a traditional addition to Lughnasadh festivities all around the world.

Since gathering bilberries was traditional for the beginning of the harvest season, they were treated as a kind of oracle. If the crop was abundant, other crops would similarly flourish. If the bilberries did poorly, everything else would, too.

In ancient Greece, bilberries came from Herme’s son Myrtillus. King Oenomaus of Pisa had been given a prophecy: He would one day be killed by a son-in-law. Seeking to avoid this fate, Oenomaus decided to prevent his daughter, Hippodamia, from ever marrying by challenging every one of her would-be suitors to a chariot race on the Isthmus of Corinth. If the suitor won, he’d get Hippodamia. If he lost, Oenomaus would kill him. Since Oenomaus’ chariot was pulled by horses given to him by the god Ares, there was no way he could ever lose.

Then came Pelops. Hippodamia fell for him immediately, and went to her father’s servant, Myrtillus, for a favor. She wanted him to sabotage her father’s chariot so he’d lose the race, and Myrtillus, full of unrequited love for Hippodamia, agreed. On the day of the race, Myrtillus switched the metal linchpins of Oenomaus’ chariot with ones made of beeswax. Oenomaus’ chariot flipped, and Pelops beat him easily.

Some versions of the story say that Oenomaus, with his dying breath, asked to be avenged. Pelops then threw Myrtillus into the sea, and Hermes turned him into a bilberry shrub when he washed to shore. Another version says that Pelops, Hippodamia, and Myrtillus were traveling, when they stopped at an island so Pelops could fetch his new bride some water. When he returned, Hippodamia was in tears. Myrtillus had tried to sleep with her, she cried, while Myrtillus protested that she had promised to do so in exchange for sabotaging Oenomaus’ chariot. The enraged Pelops then killed Myrtillus.

In the folklore of some of the people indigenous to blueberry’s native range, blueberries are called “star berries” for the star-shaped blossom end.

In the Victorian language of flowers, bilberry represents treachery. This symbolism is likely borrowed from the Greek story of Myrtillus.

Blueberry and Bilberry Magical Uses

Blue- and bilberries are associated with protection and luck in European witchcraft.

Dried bilberry leaves are used in protective powders but can also be used whole for prosperity and luck.

The fruit is similarly used for protection and hex-breaking.

(Considering bilberry’s associations with treachery and crop divination, I wonder if their protective properties stem from their connection to physical danger and starvation. Today, we know that fruits like blueberry and bilberry can protect against oxidative cellular damage due to their antioxidant content, but their traditional connection to protection goes back much farther.)

Using Blueberries and Bilberries

Blueberries and bilberries couldn’t be simpler to use. For kitchen witches, include them in recipes for protection and the removal of malevolent enchantments.

Crushing the fresh berries can yield a pigment suitable for drawing protective sigils on paper talismans, the skin, and anywhere else you might need them. Just bear in mind — both of these berries are sweet, and your talismans may be sticky and likely to attract bees this way!

To protect your property, dry bilberry or blueberry leaves. Powder them well, then sprinkle the powder around the perimeter of your home or yard.

White, bell-shaped blueberry blossoms.

To break a hex, jinx, or run of bad luck, burn dried blue- or bilberry leaves. Use the smoke to fumigate the same way you’d use incense smoke.

Blueberry and bilberry don’t appear to be reversing herbs. That is, they don’t return treachery or malevolent magic to the sender. They just keep it from affecting you.

Since bil- and blueberry seems to predominantly be a protective herb, I would hesitate to use it solely for drawing luck. It appears that it’s virtue in luck drawing lies in its ability to get rid of jinxes and other things that hold you back. For luck spells, then, I’d pair blueberry or bilberry leaves with an ingredient used more specifically for attracting good luck. The berry leaves can clean up the things standing the way of your luck, and the other ingredients can draw it in. Allspice, chamomile, and fenugreek are all good options to consider here.

Interestingly, strawberries are sometimes used in small amounts for luck drawing. You could then theoretically make a jam, smoothie, or pie with both blueberries and strawberries, and, when appropriately made and empowered, use it to attract good luck to you.

It remains to be seen how my poor transplanted blueberries do, but the newer ones seem to be thriving. When the time is right, I’ll harvest the fruits and some of the leaves, and hopefully have enough protection and hex-breaking to last me all year!

life · Plants and Herbs

It’s basically like some kind of artery loofah.

Hi. I have high cholesterol.

Well, “borderline high,” according to the internet.

My doctor gave me the disheartening news that it’s genetic. I think it’s more likely to be a product of falling too easily into the temptation of getting takeout in a place with so many awesome places to eat.

Either way, I’m avoiding statins if I can. For now, I’m trying a different protocol:

  • Taking vitamin K2, on my doctor’s recommendation.
  • Taking vitamin D, because I tested low.
  • Eating 35+ grams of fiber per day. Oat fiber is supposed to be the best for maintaining a healthy blood lipid ratio, but I can’t have oats. So, psyllium, chia, and other fibers it is.
  • Going plant-based.
  • Eating more avocado. The thing is, I already cook almost exclusively with avocado oil because it has a higher smoke point than other oils, so I’m not sure how much of an impact this’ll have.
  • Increasing my physical activity. I’ve started with a round of sun salutations each morning, and a set minimum of any kind of other physical activity throughout the day. I get bored easily, so I won’t stick to a routine. Telling myself that it doesn’t matter what I do, as long as I do a half hour of it, seems to be the best way to ensure that it actually happens.

I was vegan years ago, but I say “plant-based” now. This is mostly because veganism isn’t really a possibility — I wear vintage leather, because it is better and less harmful than either new leather or vinyl alternatives. I use collagen to keep my joints functioning, and there is no vegan equivalent. I eat honey, because bees are unionized. I feed my kefir grains with plain sugar, which is sometimes whitened with bone char. There are some things for which there is either no less destructive alternative, or no actual replacement.

I’m also using complementary measures. This is mostly because fixing my blood lipids is mostly a matter of changing things and waiting — there isn’t really a whole lot to do. I have an aventurine and serpentine bracelet that I wear on my left wrist, so putting it on and noticing it throughout the day helps me a) feel like I’m actively doing something, and b) draw my attention back to getting my blood back out of whack.

I’ve also been using meditation. I meditate routinely as it is, but I’ve shifted my focus to very specific imagery, sounds, et cetera. Even if this doesn’t lower my cholesterol, meditation has enough other cardiovascular and general health benefits to make it worthwhile.

It’s going to take a bit for these things to have an effect. My cholesterol didn’t raise itself overnight, and it won’t lower itself that quickly either. Hopefully, in a few months, I’ll be able to have my blood drawn again and see that I’m back in a healthy range.

Have you lowered your cholesterol without statins? If so, what’d you do?

life · Neodruidry · Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

Wood Sorrel Folklore and Magical Properties

Take a look at your lawn. Unless you maintain it to putting-green smoothness, you’re likely to see some yellow flowers.

Not the dandelions — look closer.

You might mistake them for buttercups at first, but they’re really quite different. These little yellow five-petaled flowers are yellow wood sorrel (Oxalis stricta). They’re a native wildflower where I live, and vastly superior to the grass that still attempts to poke its way up through their heart-shaped leaves and small yellow flowers.

A plant with heart shaped leaflets and five-petaled yellow flowers.
A tuft of yellow wood sorrel.

As a native herb here, it doesn’t have a long history of use in old European grimoires. There are, however, many other varieties of wood sorrel — some native, some not, and some of questionable origins.

I’m a big proponent of using native alternatives to exotic herbs whenever possible, so I figured I’d give some background on wood sorrel and a few ways to use its magical (and delicious) American cousins.

Wood Sorrel Folklore

The species name Oxalis comes from the Greek word oxus, meaning “acidic” or “sharp.” The leaves of wood sorrel have a very tart flavor which makes them a tasty addition to salads. When dried, wood sorrel can be used to curdle milk for cheesemaking.

These plants are connected to fairies and woodland spirits. In Wales, wood sorrel is called fairy-bells.

A European wood sorrel plant (Oxalis acetosella), with heart-shaped leaflets and white, bell-shaped flowers.
The white flowers of Oxalis acetosella show why this plant’s sometimes known as “fairy bells.”

In herbal medicine, a decoction of the leaves was used for thirst and fever. Applied externally, the crushed leaves have an astringent effect which helps with abscesses, boils, and wounds.

Dried leaves are said to attract luck and, due to the doctrine of signatures, be healing and protective to the heart.

It’s also said that the dried leaf will allow the user to see fairies.

There’s some debate about shamrocks (an Anglicization of the Gaelic seamróg, meaning “little or young clover”). Shamrocks are associated with Saint Patrick, who used a three-leafed plant to explain the idea of the Christian Holy Trinity. Most depictions of the shamrock show it with three heart-shaped leaves. Since clovers have rounded leaves, this indicates that the shamrock may actually be a species of Oxalis and not a clover at all.

The ancient Druids were said to have regarded the shamrock as a sacred plant with the power to drive off evil spirits.

In the Victorian language of flowers, wood sorrel represented joy and motherly affection.

Wood Sorrel Magical Uses

Magically, wood sorrel is used in spells for luck, healing, protection from evil and misfortune, and love.

These plants can also be useful for working with three-part deities, like the Triple Goddess or Brighid. They make good offerings, or even natural representations of the deities themselves in a pinch.

Using Wood Sorrel

Wood sorrel isn’t a substitute for a visit to a doctor, but it can be a helpful herb for minor problems. Be sure you can reliably identify sorrel before attempting to consume it or use it topically.

If you live where wood sorrel naturally grows, you may want to cultivate a native species in your yard or garden space. This is especially true if you have an altar or dedicated space for nature spirits — wood sorrel is strongly connected to these entities. I’m planning to put an offering bowl and some large bull quartz crystals on the edge of the patch of yellow wood sorrel here, for example.

Using wood sorrel as a protective plant is an interesting idea. This protection may stem from the plant’s three-leaved appearance, which is reminiscent of various triple deities. The number three is also regarded as sacred in itself, since it reflects the past, present, and future; youth, adulthood, and old age; birth, life, and death; and the upper, middle, and lower worlds. Wood sorrel may also be considered protective because it’s very sour. Sour things, like lemons and vinegar, are often used to ward off or cleanse away negative energy.

Yellow wood sorrel leaves. The leaves consist of three heart-shaped leaflets, arranged similarly to clover leaves.
This picture shows the heart-shaped leaves and small yellow buds of yellow wood sorrel.

With all of this in mind, I’d brew a tea of wood sorrel and use it to wash doors, windows, and thresholds. Growing wood sorrel could also have a protective and luck-drawing quality.

The dried leaves and flowers would make a very nice addition to jar spells and sachets for love magic. I’d probably combine the flowers with roses, apple blossoms, and other seasonal blooms associated with love-drawing, then use this mixture in a magical bath.

If you’ve never tasted wood sorrel, I highly recommend it. The tart leaves and flowers are a very interesting addition to salads, soups, and sauces. If you’re into kitchen witchery, these edible wildflowers can be a powerful way to work with your local landscape to bring love, protection, and luck into your life.

life · Neodruidry · Plants and Herbs

Apple Folklore and Magical Properties

So, apples.

They’re versatile, inexpensive, and delicious. You can use them to carve stamps, prepare stuffing, or make a pie. Got an apple core? Feed it to worms or toss it in compost. They’re a delightful package of deliciousness, nutrition, and fiber.

They’re also pretty prominent in the religions of the areas from which they come. Eris tossed a golden apple and started the Trojan war. Iðunn’s golden apples give the gods youth, immortality, and vigor. Manannán mac Lir tempted Cormac mac Airt with a branch covered in nine apples of red gold. Emain, the otherworldly Plain of White Silver, had silver boughs with white apple blossoms.

We don’t have magic apples here, though I feel like Chehalis apples come close. I was drawn to their colors, ranging from emerald green, to golden yellow, to a pale, almost ethereal shade somewhere between the two. (I’ll just be happy if I get to eat one of these apples without the birds and wasps getting to them first!)

An apple ripening on a tree.
One of the little Chehalis apples on the tree in the back yard.

But apples are more than just magical symbols of the Otherworld, anyway. They’re also an indispensable ingredient in kitchen witchery, and even herbal healing.

Apple Folklore

Teasing out the folkloric significance of apples is more challenging than it might seem. Up until the 1800s, the word “apple” was used not just for apples, but also for as a generic term for fruits other than berries. This is why we have “oak apples” (a plant deformity caused by gall wasps), “earth apples” (cucumbers or potatoes, depending on who you ask), “love apples” (tomatoes), or “May apples” (a low-growing relative of barberry).

Ethnobotanists have made some compelling arguments for apples being used as a symbolic substitution for fly agaric mushrooms (Amanita muscaria), an entheogenic fungus. This is an interesting bit of information to keep in mind as you read through the rest of the folkloric and symbolic significance of apples.

The fruit eaten by Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden in Christian mythology is often said to be an apple. This is particularly interesting when you consider the effect of that apple and Terence McKenna’s “Stoned Ape” theory of humanity’s development. This widely-criticized theory holds that entheogens (specifically Psilocybe cubensis) are responsible for much of the progress of humankind. If Adam and Eve’s apple could be viewed as an entheogenic fungi, then the Christian story of the fall of man would be an allegory for entheogens leading to the development of clothing, agriculture, and more.

The larynx, which is usually (though certainly not always) more prominent in male humans, is called an “Adam’s apple” because of a bit of folklore that claimed that the prominence was created by the fruit sticking in Adam’s throat.

In later Christian mythology, Jesus Christ is portrayed as holding an apple. Here, the apple transforms from a sign of the fall of humanity, into a sign of redemption. Considering that this redemption leads to eternal life, this apple is somewhat akin to the apples of Iðunn.

In the Norse Prose Edda, the goddess Iðunn is said to carry an ash wood box in which she keeps golden apples. When the Norse gods begin to grow old, they eat her apples and become young again. The gods, then, depend very heavily on Iðunn’s presence and good will in order to maintain their youth and strength.

Apples weren’t always associated with youth and life, however. In the Heiðarvíga saga, the poet speaks of the “apples of Hel.” These appear to be the antithesis of Iðunn’s apples — the food of the dead.

In Greek mythology, Eris felt insulted when she wasn’t invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis like the other gods were. As revenge, she tossed a golden apple inscribed with the words “to the fairest” in between Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite. They immediately began arguing over who deserved it, and asked Paris to mediate. Aphrodite promised him the hand of the most beautiful woman in the world if he chose her, so he did. Unfortunately for everyone, that woman was Helen of Troy, and Paris’ decision kicked off the Trojan War.

The island of Avalon, the mythical, mystical place of Arthurian legend, is the Island of Apples. The name “Avalon” is thought to stem from the Welsh word “afal.”

In Cornwall, Kalan Gwav (Allentide) is a time for giving shiny, bright red apples to friends and family as tokens of luck.

In the Irish Echtra The Voyage of Bran, Bran mac Febail sets out on his adventure when he receives a silver apple bough brought from Emain, the Plain of White Silver.

The Irish sea god Manannán mac Lir’s golden apples emitted a kind of magic lullaby. This could soothe people afflicted with injuries or illnesses to a healing sleep. The name of his paradisical home, Emain Abhlach, comes from the Old Irish “Ablach” (“of the fruits” or “of the apples”).

Apples, fresh flowers, and sheet music on a wooden table. One of the apples has been cut in half to expose the seeds. An ornate knife sits nearby.

In the mythology of the people from the North Caucasus, there is a tree that groows magic apples capable of guaranteeing a child to whoever eats them.

During the Jewish holiday Rosh Hashanah, people dip apples in honey and eat them to bring in a sweet year ahead.

Wiccan lore views apples as a sacred symbol. This is because, when cut in half horizontally, their seeds and core form a pentagram.

An old bit of boat builder’s lore holds that it’s bad luck to make a boat from apple wood, since apple wood was used to make coffins. Doing so was believed to doom the sailors to an early grave.

A common bit of marriage folklore says that, if an unmarried woman peels an apple in one long, continuous piece, then throws it over her shoulder, the peel will fall in the shape of the first letter of her future spouse’s name.

Wassailing is an old English folk practice performed to bless the trees and bring in a big crop in the next harvest season. (I went to a wassail ceremony earlier this year, and it was a ton of fun!)

The Magical Uses of Apples

Apples are a common autumn food and addition to altars for autumn and winter holidays. This is because they’re in season during autumn, and tend to keep very well if they’re stored properly. Apple sauce, apple cider, dried apples, and carefully-stored fresh apples were vital additions to the western European diet during the cold months.

An apple bough with buds, flowers, ripe fruit, and unripe fruit is said to mark a door to the Otherworld.

In general, apples are magically associated with love, fertility, protection, and prosperity. The flowers are excellent additions to charm bags, the fruit is great for kitchen witchery, and the leaves can bring fertility and prosperity to one’s home or garden.

Using Apples in Magic

Apples are possibly one of the easiest and most convenient magical ingredients. Since apples are pretty sturdy and edible when raw, they’re often used as a kind of edible “package” for magical intentions. Hold an apple in your hands, visualize it filling with your intention, whisper your intention to it, and eat.

If you have access to apple leaves (either pruned or fallen — please don’t pick fresh leaves from the tree), bury thirteen of them in your garden. This is said to increase its productivity for the next year. I’d argue that you could also add these leaves to compost, or bury pruned or fallen apple wood in your hügelkultur mounds.

Apple blossoms are great ingredient for love magic. Their action is said to be gently seductive. They are also used for peace, contentment, and success. This suggests that they’d be a useful addition to any spell for attracting happiness into one’s life.

Apples are also said to be protective. Apple cider vinegar can be a useful (and pungent) addition to jars and bottle spells for protection against both one’s enemies and malevolent energy.

Another small Chehalis apple ripening on a tree.
Another little Chehalis apple.

I can’t tell you how excited I am for apples this year. The springtime apple blossoms were incredible, and I check on the ripening fruits with excitement every day. Here’s hoping you can find ways to incorporate these magical fruits into your meals, rituals, and daily practices.

Books · Witchcraft

The Black Toad: West Country Witchcraft and Magic

It’s been a bit since I’ve sat down to read an entire book from start to finish. To be honest, I just haven’t had the time or attention to spare. I do want to get back into providing reviews and recommendations for books, since I see so many posts on social media asking for resources.

This week, I’ll be looking at Gemma Gary’s The Black Toad. At only 133 pages (not counting the bibliography and index), it’s a slim volume. Though diminutive, it’s definitely not hurting for content!

I’ll be honest, a lot of modern books and websites about witchcraft kind of make my eyes glaze over. Now, in a time where everything just gets boiled down to vibrations, intention, and personal gnosis, all of the advice and explanations sound very samey after a while. (They’re also not terribly helpful, and then people wonder why their craft doesn’t work!)

I really enjoy books on witchcraft that have a more historic bent. When I write about herbs or minerals, I end up looking into folklore, not modern lists of associations or uses. It gets closer to the heart of the matter and keeps me from having to reinvent the wheel through personal gnosis, as it were.

All of this is to say that I really, really like The Black Toad. It covers protection, luck, plant charms, weather witchery, and cursing, broken up into the domains of Old Mother Red-Cap, Green-Cap, and Black-Cap. All of this is presented without apology — for the one with the power to heal and protect must necessarily also have the power to destroy.

A rowan branch laden with red berries.

The spells and charms aren’t written like lists of instructions. Instead, they’re detailed descriptions of historical ways that witches and wise people had for protecting themselves and their animals, improving their luck, healing, and handling their enemies. It’s more than possible to use it as a spell book, but it’s primary value, to me, is as a depiction and explanation of traditional practices.

The only downside is that scientific names aren’t (or possibly can’t be) provided for some of the plants mentioned. Take sage, for example. The mention of sage states that it was drunk for health and longevity. However, there’s a sage native to the area that isn’t a sage at all — wood sage (Teucrium scorodonia). The actual sages, the Salvia species, are native to the Mediterranean. So is this sage an imported garden sage, or native woodland germander? Unfortunately, historic resources often don’t leave us much to go on.

A stack of books, magical seals, and dried herbs. Smoke rises from a bowl of burning herbs.

Some other reviewers pointed to the use of Biblical passages in some of the formulas as a problem. However, this is ahistoric and there are plenty of traditional resources that use passages from the Bible. There’s no reason to believe that witches and wise people, historically, would have reason to look down on doing so. The attitudes of modern people toward organized religion have no bearing on what people were likely to use in the past.

I’d recommend The Black Toad to anyone with an interest in traditional western European witchcraft. It gives a useful picture of the role and domain of wise people, as well as several spells that are still useful today.

life · Neodruidry · Plants and Herbs

Increasing Landscape Resilience with Native-ish Plants

Hello! It’s April, it’s going to be almost 90° F this weekend, and winter skipped us.

Well, we had like one cold week, but that was it.

Honestly, it’s had me worried. A number of plant species that are native to this area require cold stratification — in other words, they need a period of cold and some pretty big temperature swings in order to trigger them to germinate at the correct time. This includes a tree that’s very important to me, the bald cypress. They’ve evolved to need cold stratification because without it, their seeds could germinate far too early and die off in the middle of winter.

I have packets of seeds that I want to plant, too, that need to be sown within a narrow window of time. I’m talking when temperatures are cool (but not too cool), usually right around the last frost date. The trouble is… like I said, it’s going to be in the high 80s this weekend. Our official last frost date was a few days ago.

Now that I’ve gotten my complaining out of the way, there’s an idea I’ve been exploring.

I first ran into it when I was researching native hydrangeas. I love hydrangeas in general (my grandfather had a big hydrangea next to the house I grew up in, alongside a strangely persistent and hardy opuntia cactus), but they’re not really known for their heat tolerance. They are, by far, not the only plants that are going to suffer as temperatures increase either.

A hand touches a cluster of purple Hydrangea macrophylla flowers.

Smooth hydrangea (Hydrangea arborescens) is native to this area. They also prefer daytime temperatures in the 70s and require supplemental irrigation when it gets too hot and dry.

Oakleaf hydrangeas (Hydrangea quercifolia) are native to the Southeastern United States. In other words, they’re from the US, just a bit lower than where I live. Changes in average temperatures are expanding the range of some southern plants and animals, while driving others further north.

Unfortunately, there’s not much that a single person can do to keep their cool temperature-loving plants from suffering from this effect. It’s also debatable whether we should — landscapes are ever-changing and evolving, and state borders are artificial constructs that plants and animals don’t recognize. It may increase the resilience of the landscape to work with this shift, rather than against it.

For this reason, I’m experimenting with oakleaf and smooth hydrangeas. Experts point out that this area’s climate is slowly aligning with species that used to be relegated to more southern states. Blending some Southern species with Midatlantic species could help create a plant, animal, and fungal community that’s more resilient to climate change, and decrease the need for supplemental irrigation or treatment for diseases related to heat stress.

Saving seeds from the individual native plants that seem to struggle less with the heat can help their species adapt over time, which will feed and protect the native animal species that depend on them. Adding in native-ish species from a bit further south can help the land adapt. It also ensures sources of food and nesting sites for the animals that are also being driven north as temperatures rise.