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.

Books

Let’s Read: Folklore and Symbolism of Flowers, Plants and Trees

I admit, when I first got my copy of Ernst and Johanna Lehner’s Folklore and Symbolism of Flowers, Plants and Trees, I was slightly disappointed at the size. I’d been hoping for a longer volume, while this one comes in at just 128 pages. However, despite my initial misgivings, I did enjoy this book.

For starters, it’s well organized. The first chapter covers sacred plants from Middle Eastern, Chinese, Norse, and other cultures/religions around the world. The next is a neatly alphabetized collection of folklore about flowers. From there, it goes on to cover strange and wondrous plants, and plant calendars from various cultures. The last section is a list of the floriographic meanings of each plant.

That said, this is a somewhat old book, and the majority of its sources have a Euro- or Christocentric lens. Some spellings that appear as typographical errors (Batatosk for Ratatoskr, for example) seem to be artifacts of old printing methods. Some of the wording is also outdated, like the usage of Mohammedan (an archaic term for Muslim or Islamic that’s now regarded as a misnomer at best, or offensive at worst). Some of the common names they chose to use also may be a bit strange to an English reader, like Bo Tree for Bodhi Tree. You get the idea.

While it isn’t long, the pages are large enough to hold beautiful antique illustrations and a lot of information. The entries also include the scientific name of each species (where known), which is very helpful. Relying on common names can be misleading — feverwort, also known as common centaury (Centaurium erythraea) is not the same as feverfew (Tanacetum parthenium). There are also a bunch of plants in the Gyrandra, Schenkia, and Zeltnera genera also referred to as centaury.

All told, this isn’t necessarily a book for deep dives or long reads. However, it’s a very useful quick reference for floriography, and a decent jumping off point for research into mythology and folklore. Would I say it’s indispensable? Not necessarily, but it’s been very useful to me and is really nice to have on hand. It’s best, I think, when paired with a book detailing each plant’s magical or medicinal uses. It’s a nice jumping off point for further research into folklore and mythology, but it shouldn’t be treated as the final authority.

If you’re looking for a quick mythological or floriographic reference for a wide variety of trees, herbs, and flowers, Folklore and Symbolism of Flowers, Plants and Trees is a good book to have. If you’re looking for more comprehensive information, magical uses, folk medicine, or a deeper analysis, you’ll probably want to look elsewhere.

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!

Neodruidry · Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

Chickweed Folklore and Magical Uses

Recently, we had a tiny burst of warm weather (by which I mean an extremely unseasonable 76° F/24° C). It was nice! Also very concerning, but nice!

This little bit of heat seems to have kicked the yard into overdrive — while the bigger plants haven’t started leafing out yet, we’ve had a lot of spring ephemerals suddenly make an appearance. Following the grassassination, most of our ground covers are various types of chickweed and violet while the moss phlox and other guys establish themselves. Right now, we’ve got lesser chickweed (Stellaria apetala) and regular chickweed (Stellaria media).

Some plucked sprigs of Stellaria media.
Photo of Stellaria media by kokokara on Pexels.com. If you look closely, you can see the row of tiny white hairs.

While neither of these species are native (lesser chickweed is European, while regular chickweed hails from Eurasia), they’re still a valuable herb in early spring. They’re full of minerals and vitamin C, and one of the first edible springtime greens to appear. It isn’t a good idea to eat a ton of them — not raw, anyway — but they provide nutrients that are often in short supply for winter foragers.

So, with that in mind, I figured I’d take a look at the various folklore and magical uses for these humble little groundcover plants.

Chickweed has a few poisonous lookalikes, but is also pretty easy to identify. Two of its unique characteristics are the presents of a row of white hairs (like a cock’s comb) and a firm, green stem-inside-a-stem. Pull a chickweed’s stem apart, and you’ll uncover a green “chicken bone!”

When I say that chickweed is high in vitamin C, I really mean it — sailors used chickweed steeped in vinegar to prevent scurvy during times when citrus fruits weren’t available.

Chickweed is associated with love and fidelity. This idea may stem (no pun intended) from its growth habit. Chickweed grows in groups, with spreading tendrils reaching out from the center. It’s a powerful visual metaphor for the importance of community, as each chickweed stem grows out from this connected center in order to reach its full potential.

This plant is also very tenacious. It’s hard to get rid of, and often springs right back up after being cut or pulled out. While chickweed favors moist soil with a good pH and abundant nutrients, you can also find it growing in cracks in sidewalks. This makes it useful for situations that you want to exhibit this same resilience — for example, a long-term relationship.

Some green magic practitioners also associate this plant with abundance. It produces a lot of very long-lived seeds, which connect it to fertility and prosperity.

Tiny white chickweed flowers.
Photo by Imad Clicks on Pexels.com

The name “chickweed” comes from chicken and weed. Since these plants are pretty nutrient-dense and come up in early spring, they’re eagerly fed on by poultry and are particularly good for growing chicks.

Chickweed is very easy to find. Look for moist (but not soggy) soil, in early spring, just about anywhere and you can probably pick some. It’s stubborn, it’s prolific, and it’s not super fussy. Use a good plant identification app and research chickweed’s poisonous lookalikes, or, even better, go with a seasoned forager who can show you what to look for.

Once you have your chickweed, you can use it fresh or dried. Dried, it mixes well with jasmine, rose petals, lavender, and other love-drawing ingredients. Blend these dried herbs together with equal parts Epsom and sea salts, add a few drops of patchouli and rose oil, and use the resulting mixture for a love-drawing bath.

To attract a partner, wear a sprig of chickweed. These unassuming greens can be easily tucked into a boutonniere, vase necklace, flower crown, hairclip, or fascinator without too much trouble. As with the bath salt recipe above, combine them with other love-drawing plants for best effect.

To ensure the fidelity of a partner, it’s said that you should feed them chickweed. (If you do this, you should probably ensure that you have their consent, and that you’ve properly identified your chickweed or purchased it from a reputable source. Otherwise, you’re going to end up with an angry and/or poisoned partner.) Caraway seeds are used in a similar fashion.

If you have access to a yard, or even just an open field, you most likely have access to chickweed. This plant is subtle, but powerful. Whether you choose to use it as food, medicine, or a magical ingredient, this tenacious little herb can be a great friend to make.

Neodruidry · Plants and Herbs · Uncategorized

Cedar Tree Folklore & Magical Properties

I’m not a fan of fake greenery. While it can definitely amp up a room’s decor when it’s judiciously combined with real plants, I always end up forgetting to maintain it until it’s faded, dusty, and doing the exact opposite of helping things look fresh and natural. Blegh.

Anyway, when it comes to decorating for Yule, my Handsome Assistant and I go for fresh greens. There’s a florist nearby who sells trimmed branches of various evergreens pretty cheaply. Combine a few of them with some wired ribbon, and you can make a very pretty swag or garland without spending much money at all.

A close up of fanlike American cedar branches.
Photo by Abdul Zreika on Pexels.com

This year, we picked up the cutest little potted Alberta spruce tree. We’re keeping it indoors until spring, at which point I’m going to repot it and set it outdoors. Next winter, it’ll probably still be small enough to fit in the living room and be next Yule’s tree, too. Once it’s outgrown its pot, we’ll plant it in the front yard.

We also picked up some trimmed branches from an incense cedar tree (Calocedrus decurrens), which I used to decorate table tops and the top of our curiosity cabinet.

Since we’ve been taking down our Yule decorations and cleaning up the shed bits of greenery, I thought now might be a good time to look into the folk tales and magical associations of cedar trees.

First things first: “Cedar” isn’t a very exact term. True cedars are chiefly found in the Mediterranean, but there are also quite a few unrelated American species referred to as “cedar.” True cedars have needles, while American species have flat leaves, like scales, that form delicate fernlike or fingerlike structures (as seen in the photo above). There are only four species of “true” cedar: cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani), Atlas cedar (C. atlantica), Cyprus cedar (C. brevifolia), and deodar cedar (C. deodara). American cedar species are actually members of the cypress family, Cupressaceae!

The needles of an Atlas cedar, one of the "true cedars."
Photo by Feyza Dau015ftan on Pexels.com, showing the needles of a “true cedar.”

American cedars are culturally significant to the people indigenous to the trees’ native ranges. Indigenous people used (and continue to use) cedar as a sacred incense and purifying herb. Cedar trunks were used to make boats, the branches were used to filter sand from water and when leaching acorns for acorn flour, and the fibrous roots are still used to make beautiful baskets.

Cedar smoke was also used to prevent illness, which mirrors the old Scottish practice of fumigating one’s home with juniper for the same purpose. This is particularly interesting since the eastern red cedar, Juniperus virginiana, is actually a juniper. Junipers are also members of the cypress family, like other American cedars are.

Many Salish groups had special rituals for the felling of cedar trees. These trees are considered symbols of providence, abundance, and generosity.

A Mi’kmaq tale warns you to be careful what you wish for. A man went to the legendary Glooskap and asked if it was true that Glooskap gave people whatever they asked him for. Glooskap demurred, saying that he couldn’t always answer people’s requests, but he helped however he could. The man asked Glooskap for immortality, but he refused — all things must die. Once everything has died, even Death would probably die. Disappointed, the man asked to live longer than any man has ever lived. In return, Glooskap turned the man into a tall cedar tree.

A Potawatomi tale tells of a group of men who visited the Sun to ask for help. One desired to see the future, two desired immortality, another desired a blessing associated with water, and yet another had gone along just to help the others. The man who wished to see the future was set down in the west, where the Sun goes to end the day. One of the men who wanted to be immortal became a boulder. The man who wanted a water blessing became a half-man, half-fish. The other man who wished for immortality became a cedar tree. This is how people received the stones and cedar used in sweat lodge ceremonies.

In Judeo-Christian stories, cedar represents protection and strength. Its wood was used to build Solomon’s temple. According to Medieval Christian tradition, the cross used during the crucifixion was made of cedar. For this reason, it was considered bad luck to burn cedar wood. Planting a cedar in your yard was also believed to bring misfortune and poverty, but a cedar growing naturally was considered fortunate.

In Irish folklore, cedars were associated with strength and durability. Their wood is extremely rot-resistant, and the trees live for a very long time.

Like a lot of other magical ingredients used for protection and banishing, all types of cedar repel pests. The aromatic compounds in their essential oils are a deterrent for moths and all kinds of biting insects. All around the world, there’s a very strong connection between “plants that keep bugs out” and “plants that keep evil away.”

Depending on your needs, you may or may not be able to substitute juniper-family cedars for “true” cedars. There is quite a bit of overlap, however — no matter which species you’re working with, these trees are connected to purification, protection, longevity, and strength.

Since we’re talking about some very distinct groups of trees that use the same common name, I won’t go into cedar’s medicinal properties here. This underlines the importance of using standardized nomenclature — each of these species has its own bouquet of medicinal compounds (and some potentially dangerous ones, like thujone), so it’s important to know exactly what you’re using. Never go by a plant’s common name when you’re looking for medicinal ingredients, because there’s a ton of common name overlap between completely unrelated species.

The most important thing to recognize when working with cedar is that this is a plant that should be respected. The famous cedars of Lebanon (Cedrus libani) were highly regarded — the oldest among them were considered sacred, and anyone who harmed them would be overtaken by misfortune. In the Potawatomi tale above, the man who became a cedar says that one should “call the cedar tree your nephew when you speak of it.” Folklore all around the world warns against cutting down a cedar without performing the proper ceremonies.

With that in mind, there are multiple ways to work with cedar. Cedar essential oil is frequently used in magical aromatherapy (though a little bit goes a very long way). Cedar twigs can be burned as incense and used in smoke cleaning. Since the wood and needles are so strongly aromatic, you can also infuse them in oil.

Dried conifers are easy to crumble, so they’re an easy ingredient to include in magical powders or incenses. Grind dried cedar leaves fine and sprinkle the powder in the corner of your rooms or around the border of your property while asking for protection against malevolent forces.

If you or anyone in your household has been sick. use cedar smoke to drive the illness out. Give the sickroom (in modern homes, the sick person’s bedroom and bathroom) a thorough physical cleaning, air it out well, and fumigate it with cedar smoke.

Right now, I have some dried cedar branches waiting to be used. These didn’t require a tree to be felled — instead, they’re trimmings. My plan right now is to grind the leaves fine, mix them with a binder, and form them into incense cones. The branches have blessed and protected my home when they were fresh, and they can continue to do so once they’re processed into incense.

I love the warm, earthy, spicy smell of cedar. In my tradition, it’s connected to the sun and the element of Fire. During these dark, cold months, inviting the power of cedar into your home can bring some much-needed heat, light, cleanliness, and protection.

Plants and Herbs

Orange Folklore & Magical Properties

Ah, oranges. Sweet little globes of deliciousness. They run the gamut from “will basically peel themselves if you look at them hard enough” to “will peel a quarter inch at a time and leave an impenetrable layer of pith.” Some are massive, some are tiny enough to eat in a bite. Some are delightful, some can be potentially deadly. They’re good for you, unless they aren’t. They’re convenient to eat, unless they aren’t. In short, oranges are a land of contrasts.

Right now, I’ve got a farmers’ market box of delightful tiny oranges from Georgia. I also have some slices of orange and lemon drying in my dehydrator for making garlands. It seemed like a good time to get into the folklore and magical uses of oranges, so here we go!

In general, oranges are used for attraction and positivity. They’re also a symbol of wealth and status in European art, since oranges don’t naturally grow in cold climates. They either had to be imported or grown in special conservatories called orangeries.

Even before oranges reached the colder parts of the world, they were associated with prosperity and luck. Virgil, the Roman poet, called them “lucky apples.”

A bowl of peeled oranges.

A Haitian folktale tells of a girl whose mother passes away. Her father remarries a cruel woman who refuses to feed or care for the girl. One day, weak with hunger, she succumbs to temptation and eats three oranges sitting on the kitchen table. When her stepmother comes home, the girl knows she’ll be beaten. She runs from the house, all the way to her mother’s grave. While kneeling and lamenting her fate, an orange seed falls from her skirt and lands on the soil. In desperation, the girl sings to the orange seed until it becomes a sapling, then a branching tree, then a mature tree laden with fruit. Happy, the girl fills her arms with oranges and carries them home.

Her stepmother greedily eats the delicious oranges before asking the girl where they came from. The girl leads her stepmother to the orange tree. As her stepmother begins to pick and eat the oranges, the girl sings to the tree once again. It grows tall — far taller than the stepmother can climb down from — so the stepmother begs and pleads for the girl to help her down again. The girl does so, but, as soon as the tree lowers, her stepmother begins eating all of the oranges again. Knowing that she’ll be punished once the oranges are gone, the girl sings to the tree to make it grow tall. Finally, she cries out, “Break, orange tree! Break!” The tree shivers into a thousand pieces, and the stepmother with it. The girl saves a single orange seed from that tree, plants it, and goes on to sell the sweet oranges at the market.

An orange tree, filled with fruit, against a blue sky.
Photo by Olena Bohovyk on Pexels.com

Christian mythology from Andalusia says that Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were travelling a long distance, when Mary became hungry and thirsty. The family happened upon an orange tree guarded by an eagle. When Mary asked for some of the oranges, the eagle fell asleep and allowed her to take three — one for each part of the Trinity.

Orange blossoms and oranges are often used interchangeably in magical formulas, but orange blossoms have their own, unique associations and symbolism. They’re generally considered symbols of purity, fertility, and virtue, as well as abundance, luck, and positivity. When it comes to attracting things, orange blossoms are excellent in love formulas.

According to the Victorian language of flowers, orange blossoms represented purity and chastity. They were said to say, “Your purity equals your loveliness.” The flowers were often associated with brides.

The blossoms’ connection to purity likely comes from their white color and sweet scent. They also appear abundantly on orange trees, and are followed by fruit, hence their connection to fertility.

There’s some debate about which came first, orange the fruit or orange the color. The word “orange” comes from the Sanskrit nāranga, which originally referred to the orange tree. This gradually transformed into naranja, pomme d’orenge, and even the Middle English “pume orange.” Interestingly, the word “orange” wouldn’t refer to a color until the early 1500s.

Orange pomanders, made by studding an orange with cloves, are a descendant of the Medieval pomander. This was a small ball or case that held fragrant herbs and resins, which would be held to the nose and sniffed as a protection against bad smells (which were believed to cause disease). These cases originally usually contained ambergris, which led to the name “pomme d’ambre,” or “amber apple.” As these things often go, “pomme d’ambre” became “pomander” in English.

One of the most interesting ways I’ve seen to use oranges involves just two simple ingredients: a bottle of orange seltzer, and a bathtub filled with fresh water. Pour the seltzer into the bath and immerse yourself completely. (You can also stand in the shower and pour the seltzer over yourself). The scent and power of orange, coupled with the effervescence of the seltzer, is said to boost creativity.

A drop of sweet orange oil makes a lovely addition to oil blends for prosperity and luck. You only need a very little bit, though, as it can overpower the scent of other oils.

Orange peels are nice additions to potpourris. They add color, and they soak up essential oils pretty readily. To attract love, mix with cloves (a magical catalyst), cinnamon (another catalyst that draws in love and money), bay leaves (a power herb used for love and money), and orris root (a love herb that focuses the power of the other herbs with which it’s combined).

Oranges make wonderful offerings, particularly if you live in an area with orioles.

An oriole perched on a branch. The bird has a jet black head, bright orange breast, and wings with black, orange, and white bars.
Photo by Andrew Patrick on Pexels.com

Dried or candied orange peel is great in teas. You can also add orange blossom water to other beverages. Consider putting a splash of blossom water in a cocktail for attracting or strengthening love.

If you do choose to use orange peel in food or beverages, opt for organic oranges (or, if you can, grow them yourself). A lot of conventionally raised oranges have their peels treated with colorants and antimicrobials. While the amounts used are tiny and considered safe, oranges are also typically peeled before eating. If you plan to use the peel, shoot for fruits that have as little added to their peels as possible.

Oranges are a perfect little nutrient-packed snack that was once a treat for kings and queens. Tap into their sweet powers to attract more luck, love, and money into your life.

Uncategorized

Ginger Folklore and Magical Properties

Hot spices have a certain reputation in magic. On one hand, they’re catalysts — helping to speed things along and bring results more quickly. On the other, many of them are baneful or strongly protective. (Chili peppers, for example, are found in many a banishment and protection recipe.)

Then there are what I call the “sweet heat” spices. These are catalysts that don’t show the powerful banishing or repelling properties of other hot spices. They have heat, but their heat is more geared toward attracting things than driving or keeping them away. This is where things like cinnamon and ginger fall.

Since it’s December, I figured a post on ginger would be timely. After all, it’ll be time for ginger cryptids soon!

Ginger (Zingiber officinale) is related to turmeric, galangal, and cardamom. It originated in Southeast Asia, but there are a number of other plants that bear the name “wild ginger.” American wild ginger species are members of the family Aristolochiaceae, making them related to Dutchman’s pipe. While American wild ginger tastes and smells similarly to Z. officinale, they are not closely related. American wild ginger also contains Aristolochic acids which, while they have some medicinal properties, can also damage kidneys and trigger particular types of liver and urinary cancer. (Exposure to Aristolochic acid also correlates with a poor prognosis for liver cancer.) In short, anything that wild ginger can do, there are other remedies that can do it better and more safely. So, for all purposes that suggest ingesting ginger, please assume that this post refers to Z. officinale, and not members of Aristolochiaceae.

In ancient Greece, it was said that ginger flowers grew where Demeter’s tears had fallen after Persephone’s abduction.

In China, ginger was associated with the Monkey King Sun Wukong. He is a fiery-tempered trickster figure who first appeared in the novel Journey to the West published during the 16th century.

A knobby root of fresh ginger, alongside some whole lemons.

According to Hindu folklore, the first ginger plant arose when Lakshmi tossed a piece of ginger into the ocean.

Pretty much every culture that used ginger recognized it for its warming properties. In ancient Greek, traditional Chinese, and Ayurvedic medicine, ginger is regarded as a spice to ease respiratory ailments and improve digestion. Even today, ginger is used as a natural remedy to reduce nausea. It has shown remarkable efficacy for nausea triggered by pregnancy and chemotherapy.

One old healing ritual involves chewing a bit of fresh ginger root, spitting it out, and rubbing it either on a sick person, or on a photograph or poppet of the sick person.

Overall, ginger is a magical catalyst. This means that it helps achieve results more quickly. It’s also said to increase one’s “inner fire.”

Ginger is often used in romantic formulas to induce passionate feelings.

It’s said that the most powerful ginger roots are those that are shaped like humans, with a knobbly “head,” two arms, and two legs.

This root is associated with the element of Fire, as well as the Sun. As a solar herb, it’s frequently used in rituals and formulas for success and prosperity.

Just as a reminder, Z. officinale should be used for preparations that are intended to be ingested. Members of Aristolochiaceae should not be used internally.

Coin-sized slices disks of ginger root.

Since ginger is a catalyst used in formulas for romantic love, it’s an excellent ingredient in “date night” recipes. Use it alone or with other love- and passion-inducing ingredients, like rose petals or cinnamon, in food or beverages to share with a lover.

A simple money spell involves sprinkling a bit of powdered ginger in your wallet. (You can also tuck a few disks of dried ginger in there, instead.)

As ginger is also considered a physically empowering, warming herb that increases heat and vitality, drinking a cup of ginger tea before a ritual may help facilitate power raising. You can also brew some ginger tea, enchant it for strength, and drink it before playing sports or doing anything physically demanding or competitive.

It’s the Yuletide season here, so ginger is very easy to come by. You can find it in tea, cookies, cakes, and savory dishes alike. With so much delicious ginger at your fingertips, why not use some in your spellcraft?

Plants and Herbs

Cypress Folklore and Magical Properties

I first started this post in January… of 2020.

A bald cypress in autumn. The needles are a vibrant read and very close to falling.

The reason it took so long was because I wanted to do the subject justice. Cypress trees are my favorite trees. I feel closer to them, and more power from them, than I do other trees. They’re sacred to me. I even have a glass pendant filled with slivers of lightning-struck bald cypress wood, and a pendulum made of a naturally fallen bald cypress’ knee.

Since the local bald cypresses have lived up to their names and done their trademark needle-shedding, I thought now would be a good time to dust this post off and finally finish it.

To the ancient Greeks, cypress trees had a tragic origin. Kyparissos was a youth who was beloved by Apollo. Apollo gave Kyparissos a beautiful tamed stag who accompanied the boy everywhere. Unfortunately, the stag was slumbering in the forest when the boy was out hunting, and he accidentally killed his stag with a hunting spear. Heartbroken, Kyparissos grieved so deeply that he transformed into a cypress tree.

The staff of Asklepios, the Greek God of Healing, was made of cypress wood. Though cypress does have some medicinal qualities, it’s likely that his staff used cypress less for its healing attributes, and more for its connections to immortality.

Sacrifices to Hades and Persephone were made under groves of cypress trees. Asklepios’ staff may have been a symbolic placation of the deities of the Underworld, so that they would not take his patients.

One of Athena’s names was “Lady of the Cypress.”

Bald cypresses are so named because they are deciduous. Every year, they shed their needles during the winter months.

Bald cypresses (Taxodium distichum, in the Cupressaceae family) are also unique in that they form “knees” — tall, knobbly growths that spring straight up from the trees’ roots. Nobody’s really sure why this happens, as the knees don’t appear to serve a particular purpose and removing them doesn’t seem to affect the trees negatively. They just kind of… happen. Some theories for cypress knees describe them as an adaptation for living in very wet environments, by helping to aerate the roots, provide an additional means of preventing erosion, or helping to stiffen and strengthen the root system.

Some cypress knees get pretty big. While they’re mostly conical in shape, they can be really irregular and knobby. It wasn’t uncommon for travelers, particularly those walking at night, to mistake them for other people or even monsters.

In general, cypresses are guardians of boundaries. Members of Cupressaceae are symbols of death, immortality, the afterlife, and liminal spaces. Their typically upright growth habit connects the earth to the sky, and they’re commonly planted on the borders of cemeteries. Kyparissos’ legend further associates these trees with death and grieving. Since these trees are evergreen, they are identified with the concepts of immortality and the afterlife as well.

I wasn’t able to find much information about Chinese cypress species, but the bit I did find suggests that cypress seeds were eaten to preserve longevity. In Japan, hinoki cypresses have a prominent place in Shinto rituals. Hinoki wood is used to start ritual fires, as well as to make the priests’ scepters.

A close up of a cluster of green cypress cones.

Though bald cypresses are native to America, they still connect to similar concepts as their Middle Eastern, European, and Asian counterparts. Though they resemble evergreen conifers, they shed their needles every year — a symbolic death and rebirth. They also grow where the water meets the land, which is another liminal space.

According to Persian legend, a cypress tree was the first tree to grow in Paradise. It’s evergreen leaves and extremely durable and rot-resistant wood made it a fitting symbol for immortality.

Cypress motifs are frequently used to decorate graves and tombs. You can see this on Christian graves, and in abstract depictions on Turkish Muslim tombs as well.

Some sources claim that Indigenous American peoples believed that cypress trees had a connection to the spirit world. This claim is vague, however, and since I couldn’t find any specific references to which tribes and nations believed this, it should be taken with a grain of salt.

Cypress wood, when used in wands, is said to have a calm and soothing energy. This follows cypress’ use as a symbol of, and remedy for, grief.

Medicinally, cypress oil is used to soothe coughs, treat warts, ease hemorrhoids, treat cuts and broken skin, relieve pain from muscle aches and varicose veins, and ease symptoms of anxiety and depression.

Personally, I love cypress and get a lot out of its connection to the other worlds. Bald cypresses, in particular, are excellent emblems of the thin border between the material plane and the spirit worlds. I’ve used cypress to ease thanatophobia, and as part of an excellent oil for trancework.

If you don’t have access to cypress trees or wood, the easiest way to work with them is probably through their oil. Cypress trees are fragrant and produce a lovely essential oil. If you avoid using essential oils due to safety or sustainability concerns, you can also try purchasing some cypress needles and infusing your own oils. I’m fortunate that bald cypresses are native to this area, so there are plenty around when I need to gather twigs, needles, or cones.

If you work with grief, or as part of the counseling or deathcare industries, it may be worthwhile to explore the properties of cypress wood or oil. Even if you don’t choose to use incorporate this into your work, the aromatherapeutic and energetic properties may help ease the stress of confronting death and grief on a daily basis.

A close up of the base of a bald cypress trunk, showing four distinct knees. A pond and more trees are visible right behind them.

I have several bald cypress knees around my house. Some are altar pieces, some are floor sculptures, some are cabinet specimens. It doesn’t hurt bald cypress trees to have their knees removed, and many homeowners do so in order to make their yards a little safer and easier to maintain. You can often find cypress knees for sale on Etsy or eBay.

Cypress trees are great. If you live in an area with a native cypress species, plant one. They’re beautiful, they’re useful, and they’re powerful.

Plants and Herbs

Holly Folklore and Magical Properties

I’m lucky to live not too far from an arboretum, which means that I have the ability to observe all kinds of incredible trees. A Druid group that I’m part of regularly visits it, too, in order to learn more about native trees and the traditional trees of the ogham. This season, we’re focusing on holly.

The US boasts multiple species of native holly. While these are all of the same genus as the European holly (Ilex aquafolium) of the ogham, they’re not really the same. Nonetheless, if you’re studying the ogham’s history, significance, and usage, making friends with your local trees certainly helps.

Red holly berries nestled among dark green, prickly leaves.

Holly is good for far more than its significance in the ogham. It has a long history the world over as a medicinal and magical plant.

The ogam letter “tinne” didn’t always mean holly. (There’s strong evidence that it wasn’t originally a tree alphabet, but that’s a subject for another time.) Kennings indicate that “tinne” originally referred to a metal bar or ingot.

An ogham kenning is known as a Bríatharogam. These were used to explain the meaning of each symbol, as well as to help scholars memorize them. The three Bríatharogam for tinne are “trian roith,” “trian n-airm,” and “smiur gúaile.” These translate to “one of three parts of a wheel,” “one of three parts of a weapon,” and “marrow of coal.”

In European folklore, holly was considered a highly protective plant. (If you’ve ever felt it’s hard, prickly, waxy leaves, this probably isn’t too surprising!) It was also regarded as unlucky to cut down an entire holly tree — probably because you’d be removing its ability to protect you. Instead, there was a tradition of coppicing holly trees. This let farmers use the leaves as fodder, and gave artisans access to the highly valued holly wood.

This connects interestingly to the concept of holly as “one of three parts of a wheel/weapon.” All trees and woods have their own magical properties, and holly was considered useful for controlling. That made it useful for crafting horsewhips.

Also interestingly, holly’s ability as a protective plant has some mundane basis. Holly trees often exhibit a phenomenon known as “heterophylly,” where multiple types of leaves are present on a single plant. It’s not at all uncommon to see holly trees and bushes with both smooth and prickly leaves. Researchers have found that the appearance of prickly leaves correlates to recent browsing by herbivores. After a holly tree’s smooth leaves get eaten, it replaces them with prickly leaves to defend itself!

Ilex aquifolium, exhibiting heterophylly. Many of the leaves on this branch are spiny, but some are smoother and more oval in appearance.

Holly was also believed to protect against lightning strikes. There’s evidence that the prickly shape of holly leaves helps conduct lightning, protecting the plant itself and neighboring trees and structures from damage. Somewhat ironically, certain holly species are also extremely flammable. Please thoroughly research specific species of holly before choosing to plant one near your home.

Celtic legend speaks of the Oak King and the Holly King. Each one ruled over one half of the year — the Oak King over the warm months, and the Holly King over the cold. They would do battle each solstice, and the loser would have to submit to the victor. The Holly King wins each summer solstice and rules until the winter solstice, when he’s once again defeated by the Oak King.

In the Victorian language of flowers, holly represented defense and domestic happiness.

While some species of holly have been used medicinally for inflammation, fevers, and skin problems, it isn’t commonly seen in modern herbalism. There are generally safer alternatives that are equally as effective.

In addition to protection, holly is associated with beauty, prosperity, good luck, and vengeance.

Holly makes for good, strong wands. The wood is also really white in color, so it can take decoration well. Wands made of holly wood are said to be powerful for working with and commanding spirits.

Planting a holly bush near your house is useful for protecting against malevolent entities and energies, as well as lightning. Please note that some hollies are really flammable, however, so make sure you choose the right variety for this purpose. Alternatively, bring some fresh holly boughs into your home instead.

Place some prickly holly leaves in a glass bowl of fresh water, and let it stand in the morning sunlight. Bring it in before noon, remove the leaves, and use the water to asperge rooms or objects that you wish to protect.

Holly boughs, when brought into the home, are said to protect from mischievous fairies. It’s believed that fairies come into the home with the holly boughs, so bringing them in gives the fairies a place to stay peacefully during the winter months so they don’t cause trouble. However, the fairies must be shooed away and the boughs burned by Imbolc, or the fairies may decide to stick around and become a problem. In some cultures, it’s considered unlucky to ever burn holly, so it may be better to bring the boughs outside and leave them there instead.

Hollies are also valuable food plants for birds, even though they’re poisonous to other animals. If you’re trying to cultivate a better relationship with the local fauna and spirits of the land, it may be worth planting a native holly species. The berries are hard and unpalatable for birds during the warm months, but the last a long time and grow softer and sweeter after being frozen. This means that they’re one of the last sources of food in areas that experience cold winters.

Snow on a holly branch. The bright red berries are still clearly visible and vibrant.

In my area, we have native inkberry holly (Ilex glabra). These are a bit different from the usual hollies you see on cards and decorations, since it has smooth, oval leaves and small black berries. Even if you’re like me, and the traditional spiny, red-berried holly is in short supply, native hollies are just as valuable, powerful, and interesting to meet.

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!