Plants and Herbs

Cacti Folklore and Magical Uses

My partner has a window shelf of cacti and succulents in his office. In winter, it doesn’t get much action — temperatures are too low and there’s not enough light to foster growth, so we don’t water them from about November to late March or early April. They use up the water stored in their tissues, and the lack of soil moisture means that they’re much less likely to develop rot. Since it’s warming up again, it’ll be time to start watering them soon.

Close up of opuntia cactus fruits.
Photo by Fiam So Iam on Pexels.com

We’re also continuing work on replacing our lawn. One of the plants I’ve considered putting in is a native Opuntia humifusa cactus, also known as an Eastern prickly pear. These are, believe it or not, hardy cacti that are the most wide-ranging species in the US. It can be found everywhere from Ontario, to Florida, to New Mexico. My grandfather’s house in New York had a pretty big specimen planted on one side — it was pretty surreal to see a big blue hydrangea bush, and then this cactus spread out less than ten feet away!

A bearded dragon perched on a moss pole in the center of a Monstera deliciosa.
A very handsome, chonky boy.

I’ve also been revamping my bearded dragon’s enclosure. I’m a fan of bioactive habitats, personally, so I make an effort to establish naturalistic microclimates using a variety of lights, sources of humidity, live plants, and even live insects. While desert reptiles can live in very dry, arid conditions, a lot of enclosures don’t include the kind of microclimates that they need for optimum comfort. He’s a big guy who has to live by himself, and I want to make his enclosure as comfortable and stimulating as possible. So, I’ve been looking into spineless cacti and other desert plants that will do the job without putting him at risk of any pokes.

All of this is to say that it’s been a very cacti season, so I thought I’d write a bit on the different folklore and magical uses of these weird, wonderful plants.

A cactus’ spines are actually its leaves. Like the specialized leaves-turned-petals of hydrangea and dogwood “flowers,” cacti spines have changed their form to suit a specific purpose. In this case, it’s reducing moisture loss and protecting the plants’ plump, water-rich flesh from herbivores. Though they’re thin, spines help shade the cactus from the harsh sun. They also catch rainfall and dew and direct the droplets toward the plants’ roots. While we typically think of dry deserts when we think of cacti, their spines and roots create humid, shady, relatively cool microclimates around their bases.

A Peruvian tale explains where cacti got their spines. On a tall, tall mountain, there was a single lush, green plant. It had broad, tender leaves like lettuce, and was all but irresistible to the local alpaca population. Every day, this plant would have to dodge their attempts to grab a mouthful of its leaves, and every day it prayed for a way to protect itself.
One day, the plant heard a terrible noise. A fox was rushing down the mountain with a tremendous boulder in hot pursuit! Panting with exhaustion, the running fox begged the plant to stop the boulder somehow — if it could, the fox promised, he would give it his claws in payment. The boulder came crashing down, and the plant stopped it in the nick of time by spreading out its broad leaves. The grateful fox gave the plant his claws, and the cactus became the prickly plant we know today.

There are also many stories of the relationship between rose and cactus. One such tale talks about how, on rose’s birthday, he invited all of the plants to attend a party. The self-conscious cactus didn’t answer the invitation, since she had no gift suitable to give the rose. Still, the rose sent a butterfly to make sure cactus came to the party and enjoyed herself anyway.
The cactus was grateful that rose wanted to invite her, even though she had no suitable gift to give him. When the time came to offer rose his birthday presents, cactus gave him the only thing she had — her protective spiny coat. The rose put it on immediately and, in return, offered the cactus a beautiful flower on her birthday.
To this day, rose wears a spiny coat of thorns, and the cactus blooms on her birthday.

A close-up of a yellow and orange cactus flower.
Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

Another tale tells of a proud rose who regarded himself as the most beautiful plant in the land. He looked down on the cactus, who had neither beautiful flowers nor fragrant perfume. What use could such a plant be to anyone?
When a drought came, the rose began to wither. He noticed, however, that the cactus was still plump and filled with water — so much, in fact, that the birds would visit her to poke holes in her tender flesh and drink.
The proud rose humbled himself and asked the cactus for some of her water. Not wishing to see anyone suffer, she told the birds to bring the rose some water. The birds dipped their beaks into the cactus’ green skin, and, flying to the rose, dripped the water on his roots. The rose and the cactus survived the drought, and the rose was never haughty again.

One bit of very persistent folklore says that you can slice open a cactus and drink the water inside. This is only even a little true of one particular species — the fishhook barrel cactus (Ferocactus wislizeni). While this cactus’ water can be drunk in extreme situations, it contains a lot of oxalic acid. Drink it on an empty stomach, and you’re probably looking at a lot of (very dehydrating) diarrhea. Other cacti contain various acids and alkaloids that can do everything from damage your kidneys, to straight-up paralyze you. Cactus-like plants found outside the US, like those in Madagascar and southern Africa, are actually members of the highly toxic family Euphorbiaceae.

The San Pedro cactus (Trichocereus macrogonus var. pachanoi) is an Ecuadorean, Peruvian, and Colombian native that is a natural source of the psychoactive compound mescaline. Peyote (Lophophora williamsii) is native to Mexico and Texas and also contains mescaline. Both of these cacti are considered sacred plants that have been used by humans for spiritual, medicinal, and divinatory purposes for thousands of years.

Cacti are one of those plants that you won’t find in old European grimoires, but that doesn’t make them any less valuable as herbal and magical allies. They are generally associated with resilience and protection.

Some practitioners also believe that they’re capable of absorbing and storing negative energy within themselves. These practitioners cleanse their cacti by repotting it regularly and very occasionally giving it a good soak under running water.

A close-up of a round, very spiny cactus.
Photo by SevenStorm JUHASZIMRUS on Pexels.com

On the flip side, another school of thought holds that cacti can store any kind of energy. Therefore, those plants that have been grown in relaxed, happy environments can actually improve the energy of wherever they’re moved to. These specific plants are frequently used for healing.

Feng shui cautions against having cacti in the home. Their spines are sait to disrupt the harmonious flow of energy.

Cacti are associated with the planet Mars and the element of Fire.

I can’t really advise you on using entheogenic cacti species, so we’ll skip that part.

In general, the easiest way to “use” cacti is to grow them. I know I say that a lot, but it’s true — living plants can provide benefits above and beyond what dried herbs can.

If you live in an area which cacti can tolerate, then you may want to plant them near the perimeter of your house. They’re great for xeriscaping in desert environments, but some, like the Opuntia humifusa I mentioned earlier, can grow in plenty of other places.

If you do choose to keep a cactus, care for it well. The steps outlined above for “cleansing” cacti? They’re pretty standard care for desert plants. They’ll need repotting as they grow and their soil gets displaced. They also benefit from deep, infrequent watering. Some magic practitioners say that cacti are capable of a kind of “energy vampirism” — that is, if they’re neglected, they can start making the occupants of a home feel lethargic and dragged down.

It’s also important to research what kind of cactus you have, and where it came from. As mentioned above, Euphorbia species are very similar to cacti. They’re also very poisonous and dangerous for children and pets. Some species of cacti are also threatened by overharvesting for the houseplant trade. Cacti poaching is a very lucrative crime, so make sure that yours come from a reputable source (preferably grown from seed, domestically).

Also, be wary of “moon cactus,” also known as Ruby Ball, Hibotan, Red Hibotan, or Red Cap cactus. These plants don’t occur naturally — they’re actually a mutant desert species (Gymnocalycium mihanovichii) with no chlorophyll of its own, grafted on top of another species (usually a tropical dragonfruit cactus). Since the colorful top of the cactus has no chlorophyll of its own, it’s dependent on the host plant for survival. Since both of these species typically have very different needs, they’re very hard to keep alive. While they’re inexpensive and popular, you may want to skip them and choose an easier one. If you really love the look of Gymnocalycium mihanovichii, there are also variegated specimens that still have some of their chlorophyl and aren’t grafted onto host plants.

You can also use cacti spines in the same way that you might use pins or thorns — to spear poppets, fill witch bottles, and so forth. However, cacti generally don’t shed and regrow their spines on a fixed schedule in the same way that other plants lose their leaves, so I don’t recommend harvesting spines for this purpose. If you happen to find a dropped spine or two, however, there’s no reason to throw them away.

Cacti are strange, beautiful plants that show life’s incredible ability to adapt to the most extreme of situations. Long associated with resilience, tenacity, and self-defense, they’re a great plant to cultivate for people who want to strengthen their boundaries and discover their own innate strength.

Plants and Herbs

A tiny plant haul — nerve plant, ZZ, and more!

Since we’re swapping rooms around, my Handsome Assistant and I felt like it’d be a good idea to scope out some more little green guys to add to our family. (I also have a disco ball in my shower that I’ve been dying to put a plant in.)

So, armed with time to kill, we stopped by a local florist/nursery. We have a bit of a reputation there — in summer, especially right after we moved and were murdering our lawn, we were there nearly every week.

I usually have a pretty good idea of what I’m looking for when I go, but my Handsome Assistant is a bit more impulsive. There have been many occasions where I’ve had to disappoint him by pointing out that a cool looking plant is extremely poisonous, or else has space/light/care needs way beyond our means. He has an eye for really awesome plants, and I always feel bad doing it.

A collection of houseplants in a flat cardboard box.

This time, we came away with a nerve plant (Fittonia), what I think is a raven ZZ plant (Zamioculcas zamiifolia), a pretty pothos (Epipremnum aureum), and a Chinese evergreen (Aglaonema).

Some of these are listed as toxic in various resources because they contain calcium oxalate crystals. These crystals are a natural defense against herbivores, as the crystals are sharp and cause irritation to the mouth, throat, and stomach. This is rarely severe, and is a purely mechanical injury. It isn’t toxic the way that, say, the phytotoxins in lilies or the cardiac glycosides in foxglove are toxic. It’s more “toxic” in the way that trying to eat a handful of broken glass would be “toxic.” Damaging, rather than poisonous.

(There is a way that calcium oxalate can potentially raise the risk of kidney stones, but, since calcium oxalate isn’t very soluble, it’s a whole Thing that depends on fat absorption, the presence or absence of certain electrolytes, and so on. In the end, the main problem most people and animals have with calcium oxalate-containing plants is that their crystals can cause irritation, pain, and/or inflammation on contact.)

Nerve plants are known for being big, fussy babies. If they want water, they will wilt until they look dead. Give them a drink, and they perk right up. Some growers have success with treating them like ferns — keep them humid, keep them evenly moist, and don’t give them too much sunlight.

A nerve plant with dark green foliage and striking bright pink veins.

ZZ plants, on the other hand, are known for their hardiness. They like indirect sunlight and can deal with neglect. They’re very hardy and drought-tolerant — some sources even say that they can go for months without water and will grow in pretty much any lighting condition that isn’t a windowless closet. Needless to say, they thrive when their needs are adequately met, but they can definitely survive if you make a few mistakes here and there.

The funny thing about this plant is that I think it’s a variety known as a raven ZZ plant. This variety is known for its nearly black foliage. They’re also usually more expensive than regular ZZs. This specimen was labeled and priced as a regular ZZ plant despite its deep purple-black leaves, which I think might be due to a slightly damaged stem on one side (having worked in retail, sometimes things like that make life easier). Either way, it’s a beautiful little plant and I’m not complaining!

A closeup of the ZZ plant's foliage. The leaves are thick, waxy, shiny, and of a dark purple color.

Pothos are one of my favorite indoor plants. They grow easily, bounce back from wilting, and propagate like nobody’s business. I’ve even used them to propagate other plants — I stick a plant I want to root in a cup of water along with a pothos cutting. It seems like enough of the pothos’ natural rooting hormone ends up in the water to help the other plant along, thought this is by no means proven. All I know is things root faster, and everyone’s happy.

I’ve also developed a real soft spot for Aglaonema, or Chinese evergreen. These plants also thrive with neglect and can grow in a variety of conditions. I have one near my front door that doesn’t get much light and I routinely forget to water. It is the lushest, leafiest plant in the house, and recently put out some flowers. They’re a really lovely houseplant (honestly, think of the word “houseplant,” and the first mental image you get will probably be an Aglaonema) that’s good for difficult areas.

Next, we picked up a Sansevieria. These are also called snake plants, adder’s tongue, devil’s tongue, or mother-in-law’s tongue (but my mother-in-law is cool, so I don’t use that one). These plants are toxic due to the presence of saponins, but they’re also not trailing plants and pretty easy to put out of reach. Like the ZZ plant and Chinese evergreen, these plants deal with neglect very well. Give it bright, indirect light and a little water now and then, and it’ll be pretty happy.

Lastly, we got some peas.

I had pretty good luck with growing sugar snap peas last year, even though I planted them several months too late for my growing zone and the heat stunted them a bit. Determined to do better this time around, I picked up two packets of peas — one Sugar Daddy, a sweet, stringless bush vine pea; and one Sugar Magnolia, a vining pea with purple flowers and pods.

I’ve been wanting to try to expand the fruit tree guilds we started. Right now, we’ve got the apple tree that was here when we purchased the house, a smaller Chehalis apple, and a yellow egg plum tree. We’ve planted bulbs around the bases, as well as some blueberries, strawberries, garden sage, and yarrow, but I really want to maximize the space by using the fruit tree trunks as supports for vines. Some guides recommend Muscadine grapes, which would be amazing, but I think they’d overwhelm these baby trees at the moment. So, peas it is!

life · Plants and Herbs

New Leaves and a Public Universal Friend

We went to one of my favorite places in the whole city: Ginkgo Gardens. (It is not, however, my wallet’s favorite place. I never manage to leave there without at least a hundo in plant friends, pots, or sculpture. Whoops!)

Even though my window plant shelf is pretty full, my Calathea is doing so well that I wanted to find it a few buddies to fill out some empty spaces on the etagere next to my desk. Right now, it’s mostly occupied by picture frames and whatever oils I’ve set to infuse at the moment — it could definitely benefit from the acquisition of some new plants.

And oh boy, acquire I did!

It was rainy, but that’s okay. Rain always gives me a headache and makes it a bit tougher to get around, but I ain’t made of sugar. A little misting won’t keep me home!

I could probably spend all day walking around their outdoor area. It’s not large, but it’s packed with the most beautiful stuff. (Also, I thought the masks on the statues near the entrance was a tiny bit of brilliance.)

In the end, we came home with several treasures: a Pilea, a Calathea, a Maranta, an Asplenium (you know how much I love ferns), and a Tillandsia. I also found a lovely little brass pot tucked away on a shelf…

And this guy.

When my partner and I saw it, we both went, “Oh, whoa.”

“A Friend,” I declared.

He agreed, and we immediately set about figuring out which plant made for the superior hairstyle.

The Pilea won, hands down.

After calling it a Friend, I couldn’t really think of a suitable name. (I’m terrible at naming things, so this didn’t exactly come as a surprise.) I figured Public Universal Friend was as good a name as any!

Here’s hoping the weather is treating you well, and there are many small, green buddies in your future.

This image is the cover of the folk album I am never going to make.