The Magic and Mischief of the Darktide

Thank you again for such a wonderfully joyful month of celebrating the darkest weeks of the year! The last books of our giveaway are going out to:

BrigidsBlest - A Grimoire for Modern Cunningfolk

Margarita - Weaving Fate

mtngirl - By Rust of Nail & Prick of Thorn

Eveline - Krampus and the Old Dark Christmas

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The ice crept in two nights ago, growing over every surface and crushing the last struggling plants in the garden between its frigid fingers. It left a blanket of sparkling crystals, and froze the water in the birdbath into a sculpture that was unappreciated by its intended patrons. On the days the sun finds us, it is still warm enough to melt the layer of frost. But that celestial body is wandering off, rising so far in the south now that we get only mere hours of its direct light. In the shadowy places of the yard the ice is already settling in to rule until spring. Snow will follow in waves. But frost is the true lord of winter.

Autumn is said to be the season of the witch, and it's easy to see why. The golden days and cozy nights are naturally dripping with enchantment. But when we look at the power of winter, the cultures who formulated practices to keep themselves safe and fed in uncertain times, who told tales around the fire to weather the long nights and teach their children to have a healthy dose of fear and wonder, we can't help but notice that there is a deep vein of magic that runs through the season of frost and snow. Our practices instinctively turn inward. Our homes become our circle of power, our kitchens the alchemical laboratory, and our hearth/fire/stove the place where we conjure health, familial ties, and celebration.

Of course, winter looks and feels different for everyone. If you aren't in the northern hemisphere at present, you might be dipping your toes in the first days of summer. And even if you are beginning to experience a chill (or have already been digging yourself out of your driveway for a month) you may choose not to observe any winter festivities, or feel especially celebratory this year. You don't need to be a fan of St. Nicholas or the Yule Lads to get your winter witchery on. In my deepest despair one winter, I still managed to cuddle up with cats and blankets and a stack of books, bake too much shortbread while talking to my dead grandmother, and learned to read the Lenormand - and while I didn't feel like taking part in any festivities, those things felt very magical to me. 

This last giveaway of our celebration of the darktide is meant to offer you some ideas on making your own magic (and perhaps some mischief) through the winter months. I have three outstanding books for you if you'd like to gather some inspiration for enchanting your life, protecting your home and energy, and taking charge of your fate.

The first book I have for you is very special. Six years ago I contacted the late Peter Paddon and arranged to buy some autographed books from him for my festivities that year. His work was to be featured in the last giveaway that October, but late in the month he passed away suddenly. It didn't feel right to continue with the giveaway only a week after he left us, so I gently packed the books away for another time. One of the books eventually went to live with a friend of his, and now it feels right to hand out the remaining tome. A Grimoire for Modern Cunningfolk is the account of Peter's Crooked Path of witchcraft, and also looks at some comparisons and lore from other magical systems. It contains excellent practices that the author used himself (some he created), including his take on ancestral work. Peter's 'voice' really shines through in this book, and you can see why he has been missed. The book has been lovingly kept in good condition (and never read - I have my own copies of his work) and contains a short blessing and autograph from Peter.

Our second book is a bewitching look at protection magic from the fabulous and feral Althaea Sebastiani. By Rust of Nail & Prick of Thorn: The Theory & Practice of Effective Home Warding has arrived in beautiful print form just in time for all your winter warding needs. It's chock full of guidance on why you would want to make use of this practice (and why you might ease up on it), and various ways of implementing it, including instruction for tools (and what to do if you have no tools available) and techniques. Concise and no-nonsense, this is the book you want to have to keep the wailing winter spirits at bay. (You can get your hygge on after your wards are up.)

Our last book of magical wisdom comes from a familiar friend. Aidan Wachter has entranced us with his talisman making and insightful articles for years, and is now two publications into his master work on sorcery (which we hope never ends). If you'd like to alter the winds of fate, or have a better-than-average chance at molding your own life, then Aidan's books are definitely for you. Weaving Fate: Hypersigils, Changing the Past & Telling True Lies is a companion to his first publication, Six Ways, but it's also a spectacular standalone workbook that takes you through approaches for implementing change for yourself, and having a hand in influencing the world around you. I cannot recommend Aidan's books enough, and I know you'll love having Weaving Fate to delve into during the dark months ahead.

Our final giveaway of the season is a bit of magic and mischief all rolled into one. Because Tales & Treats for the Darktide was meant to conclude on December 5th, I couldn't let the festivities fade without giving a nod to the creature who will be out roaming that night. December 6th is St. Nicholas' Day, and the 5th is the Eve of St. Nicholas when all good children place a shoe out to be filled with nuts, fruit, candy, or little toys. But...if you haven't been so good this year, a different sort of fellow might be paying you a visit...

In European folklore, Krampus is St. Nicholas' horned helper who takes the lead on dealing out gifts for the naughty children. And by 'gifts' I mean a switching with his bundle of sticks, or a one-way ride in his basket away from your family and warm bed. Fun, right? The night of Krampus, or Krampusnacht, has become a world-wide phenomenon (and a sub-par Christmas horror movie) in which people can embrace the darker aspects of winter and face their fears. Al Ridenour is an author, podcaster, artist, and journalist who traveled to Europe to research the legend of this winter monster. He has collected these stories and experiences in his book The Krampus and the Old Dark Christmas: Roots and Rebirth of the Folkloric Devil, which would be excellent to curl up with as the twinkle lights get tucked away and the January winds begin to howl at the window. 

These last four gifts will be up for grabs until the minutes fade away on Krampusnacht (December 5th). On the morning of St. Nicholas' day, after I collect my chocolate and oranges from my shoe (because I'm always a good girl, even when I'm not), I'll draw the names from the hat and send out these books to four lucky folks.

We are wrapping up with the same game as always - your comment counts as your entry. Please be sure I can get in touch with you if your name is drawn. You can let me know which book you'd prefer in your comment and I'll do my best to match wishes with names whenever possible. If you'd like a second entry, simply share this giveaway on social media and swing back to let me know you've done so, and I'll add your name to the hat again.

Thank you so, so much to everyone who has dropped by this last month to play along with me! This has been a trying year (at best) and I knew it would be a quieter celebration, but I've been truly uplifted by your messages and comments, and I'm really happy you wanted to join me again this year!

PS - This should go without saying, but because someone inquired about it I do want to emphasize that all the items that I give away are brand new. All books are unread and are sent out in the exact form they were bought/received in. All card decks are unopened and untouched, and again, are sent out in the state they are received in. Shipping can be rough on items but I don't ever send out anything damaged and I always wrap the item and use padded envelopes to keep things in good order. Any small imperfections in the item were there when they arrived to me or were purchased in person by me. Thank you!

Legal Bits:

* This giveaway (or "sweepstakes") is open to all residents of Canada, (excluding Quebec residents) the USA, Great Britain, Europe, South America,  who are 18 years of age or older. This giveaway is void where prohibited by law.  Please be aware of the contest/sweepstakes laws in your area.

*  Canadian residents will be subject to a skill testing question before being able to claim their prize (this is standard law in Canada).  The skill testing question will be in a form similar to: 1 + 2 - 1 =

*  This giveaway is not for profit and no purchase is necessary to enter.

*  This giveaway is sponsored/administrated solely by this blog/blog author and is not affiliated with or sponsored by Blogger, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or any other entity, nor can they be held liable.

* By leaving a comment intending to enter into the draw for the giveaway (or "sweepstakes") you are knowingly agreeing to these rules/conditions.

I have chosen all the books/cards featured this month myself.  I have not been paid to feature a book, nor have I been asked to advertise for anyone.  This giveaway is not endorsed or sponsored by anyone other than Rue and Hyssop.

Talisman of the Darktide

The extraordinarily lucky person who will soon have this gorgeous charm around their neck is:

lillie8302 

Congratulations!

The last giveaway of the darktide will be live tomorrow!

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After a brief visit from the sun this week, the gloom has enfolded our valley again. I don't mind the feeling of snow approaching over the mountains, or the near-constant scent of woodsmoke from the hard working chimneys in the village. It's a cozy sort of bleakness, to be sure. The birdfeeder is stocked for our outdoor friends, and the oven has been put to good use as the temperature drops and the wind howls at the door. I'm prepared to meet winter, although I'd prefer it to arrive late and then excuse itself early.

The light rushes off hastily on these late November afternoons. I half expect to see a rabbit clutching a pocket watch, racing ahead of it. The shadows slip in early now that the sun is rising and setting further and further toward the south. The brightest glow in the sky seems to be the moon, which is swelling toward full and will peak on the evening of the 29th into the early morning of the 30th. With the trees bare, the Winter Moon...Frost Moon...Beaver Moon...can easily be seen and swooned over. It is this particular shadow, these bare trees, and this full winter moon, that is the inspiration for our next giveaway. 

Pati Tozer, the extraordinary silver and gem artist in residence at Tree Speaks to Stone, has revived one of her stunning hand-cut silver talismans just for us. 

The Forest Holds the Moon is hand sawn sterling silver, from Pati's own original design. Hauntingly beautiful, it measures 36mm or approximately 1.4 inches in diameter, and hangs on dark and twisted (just the way we like it) silk cording from Japan. It has a brushed finish, and will look otherworldly hanging around your neck.

The captivating The Forest Holds the Moon pendant has been temporarily brought back to life for this winter only, and you can win one of the two pieces that will be created this year, before it returns to retirement. (If you don't win, you can always purchase the other pendant, which resides at Tree Speaks to Stone.)

If you would like to wear this enchanting charm into the winter months as your personal talisman, please leave a comment below. If you'd like a second entry for this draw, feel free to share either this post, or any of Pati's amazing art pieces, around on social media and then comment again and I'll drop your name in the hat once more.

You have until the full moon begins to fade on December 2nd to comment, and then I'll draw the name of the very lucky recipient. Please ensure your comment links back to you in some way or leave your email in a safe manner so I can contact you if you win. You may also use the "make contact" form in the sidebar (I have been receiving all the entries sent along this way, so no worries - your info makes it to me).

So, so many thanks to the incredible Pati, who has generously offered up her work for our darktide frolic this year! Here is the amazing shop again. And you can also find Pati on Instagram where you always get a first look at new creations and her wonderful world of silver and stones. 

And to those who feasted yesterday, I hope your gatherings were small and safe, and your tummies and hearts were full and happy. As we move into the celebratory season with earnest, I hope you will find comforts that, while they cannot replace large family gatherings, will help you feel warm and loved in ways that matter.

Legal Bits:

* This giveaway (or "sweepstakes") is open to all residents of Canada, (exluding Quebec residents) the USA, Great Britain, Europe, South America,  who are 18 years of age or older. This giveaway is void where prohitibited by law.  Please be aware of the contest/sweepstakes laws in your area.

*  Canadian residents will be subject to a skill testing question before being able to claim their prize (this is standard law in Canada).  The skill testing question will be in a form similar to: 1 + 2 - 1 =

*  This giveaway is not for profit and no purchase is necessary to enter.

*  This giveaway is sponsored/administrated solely by this blog/blog author and is not affilitated with or sponsored by Blogger, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or any other entity, nor can they be held liable.

* By leaving a comment intending to enter into the draw for the giveaway (or "sweepstakes") you are knowingly agreeing to these rules/conditions.

I have chosen all the books/cards featured this month myself.  I have not been paid to feature a book, nor have I been asked to advertise for anyone.  This giveaway is not endorsed or sponsored by anyone other than Rue and Hyssop.

An Evergreen Winter: The Comfort and Protection of Conifers

The snow is falling in such ghostly flakes that I almost need to squint to see it. Each icy star is so tiny that it doesn't so much fall as dance through the air, whirling around me, kissing my nose and cheeks, melting even as it arrives at the very edge of my skin. It's the same sort of teasing weather that our small party of wildcrafters enjoyed in the woods last month at year's end. We made our way across the snowy landscape, seeking out evergreens to keep our homes jolly and stocked with conifer medicine for winter tide.

We were kept company by chickadees, and stalked the foot trails of deer and coyote, and something with larger paws...lynx, perhaps. We set off together, then wandered slightly off course from one another to find our own trees to whisper to. I lingered at a Douglas fir whose large boughs reached toward the place my dog was buried over a decade ago. Her bones are there still, and though I've been reunited with her in dreams over the years I was surprised at the fierce longing I felt while I was standing beside her resting place. I gathered a few small clippings and kept them tucked aside. Some of those fir tips were for tea, and it gave my heart mild comfort to think that I might be rejoining us in the smallest way by ingesting an infusion from a tree that was fed with her body.

I spent some time with Ponderosa pine, happily gathering up sprays of needles and brushing my hand lightly down the bark to collect any loose resin that had dripped the length of the trees. One pine had been scored heavily by a bear, and another next to it had fallen, its standing remains worn smooth by animals using it as a rubbing post.

There was juniper to be had as well, along with merry green wolf lichen, and a few bright red rosehips left on a stand of wild roses. Once our arms were full of our bounty, we found our way back to my friend's cozy kitchen where a pot of soup was warmed. Rum and eggnog was the seasonal aperitif and a delightful assortment of home-fermented foods accompanied the meal. We spoke of herbal medicines and the hard-won victories of our own peace and well being, while we nibbled on roasted apples topped with maple orange whipped cream.



Conifer medicine is good medicine year round, but there is something especially comforting about bringing evergreens inside in the winter months. The traditional scent of the holidays aside, trees in the pine family (Pinaceae) and some of their cypress brethren (Cupressaceae) are chock full of vitamin C and can offer aid in dealing with respiratory issues/infections, making these trees a perfect cold tonic. Anti-inflammatory and diuretic, the needles can also be infused in oil for a pain-easing massage blend for muscle and joints. Taken as tea, in nutrient-rich vinegar, or transformed into a soothing chest rub, pine, fir, and juniper can assist in keeping your body humming along through the coldest season.

In folklore and magic, conifers seem to act as guardian spirits and are especially useful as helpers for healthy and safe home-keeping. Their stories and lore echo the practical application of these stalwart trees by the original inhabitants of the land. Lodgepole pine was employed in home-building for First Peoples, providing the poles for tepees and lodges, and fragrant fir boughs were gathered as bedding and as floor covering.

Juniper has a history of aiding purification work, assisting in the clearing of both real-world pests, such as insects or rodents, and those of a more spectral variety. The fragrant shrub was used as funerary wood in some forest tribes, the smoke offering protective company to the departing soul. Even in fairy tale, juniper is burial chamber and underworld where the dead can be reborn, as the The Juniper Tree story tells. Cedar, and in the west specifically Pacific red cedar (Thuja plicata) was the conifer of choice for coffins and sea-faring vessels and had so many daily uses that it was known as "Mother Cedar" to the Salish peoples.

The south has its own evergreens (the devastating decline of longleaf pine in particular, is worth reading up on) and here too, in southern rootwork and hoodoo traditions, we see pine added to incenses and floor washes for protection and cleansing/clearing work. Cedar is used in work where gentle persuasion is needed, and evergreens in general can be considered money-drawing just by their nature and name.

Hoarfrost on pine, British Columbia

In my own practice the fir, pine, and juniper I collect in the woods before the winter solstice are bound together with words of protection whispered or chanted over the bundle. I often add a sprig of prickly wild rose, the maroon skin of the branches and the deep red hips lending a pop of red to my green swag. Sometimes I'll even attach a cutting of Oregon Grape, which has a decidedly holly-like look to its spiny leaves. This grand bundle will guard my door and household from December through until late January. The neighbours might give a side-eye to my lingering branches, their own holiday decor long put away, but my evergreen guardian is meant for keeping unwanted spirits from stopping by on a winter's eve and the bitter season doesn't begin to loosen its grip around these parts until February dawns.

As I find myself in the last hours of January now, my sentinel swag is retired and the greenery sorted and re-purposed for incense and magic-making. It pleases me to consider that the aromatic smoke of pine and fir wafting from my censer was once the ward at my home's threshold. This previous-incarnation adds an extra note to any clearing or protection work I do with the incense or washes I create with these trees. (While I might add juniper and cedar to a clearing incense blend, they are more often utilized in my ancestor practices.) If your practice follows seasonal or wheel-type observations, the arrival of Imbolc or Candlemass marks the traditional burning of Yule greens. Generally, these greens would not remain in the household after this point as to keep them indoors would be to invite in poor luck. I burn a small selection of my conifer branches in my fire bowl as a tribute to the passing season, and put the rest up in glass jars for future use.

I truly hope you have weathered your winter beautifully. Perhaps you've found comfort in hygge, coziness and good company, or you've ventured out to ski runs or sledding hills. If you didn't save your holiday greens for Imbolc bonfires or incense, don't fret. Soon, bright green fir tips hinting of citrus will emerge with the coming of spring and you can find new ways to enjoy conifer medicine and magic!


*Please note that conifers can irritate the kidneys with continual use. Please research and know your pines/fir/junipers/cedars before imbibing them (a good field guide or local forestry website will be of great help). Junipers and some pines are not recommended while pregnant or breast-feeding.


Articles and Recipes for reveling in conifers:

Gathering and Processing Conifers, from Rebecca at Thorn & Wonder

Incense crafting, from Sarah Anne Lawless

Evergreen salt scrub, from Rosealee de la Foret at Learning Herbs

Juniper berry spiced cookies, from Danielle at Gather

Foraging for Pine needles, from Colleen at Grow, Forage, Cook, Ferment

A Midwinter Herbaria, from Becky at Blood and Spicebush (Pine is mentioned)

I have another small batch of my conifer oil, bottled and listed in my shop, ready to take home.


Sources:

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer (specifically the chapter "Old-Growth Children" in which she speaks of cedars)

Edible and Medicinal Plants of Canada, Lone Pine
(Lone Pine produces beautiful field guides)

The Old Magic of Christmas, Linda Raedisch (chapter 12, specifically "Juniper")

The Untold History of Healing, Wolf D. Storl (chapter 2, specifically "Juniper")

USDA Ponderosa Pine guide

The Stirring

Fresh snow blanketed The Valley a few nights ago. It arrived late in the afternoon and flurried with such spirit, long into the next morning. It was almost invisible at first, but so quickly the feathery flakes multiplied and soon there was a good bit of weather happening beyond the warmth of my home. I never get tired of the sight of it. I long for spring, waiting impatiently for the first green to appear. I groan at the ocean of white beyond my window covering every field and hill, broken only by roads ploughed dutifully by the towns and districts. But when it falls... There is little that stirs my heart like falling snow.

I want to kiss when it snows. Long, deep kisses, with warm lips and tongues that taste like hot cocoa. I want arms around me, taking the place of the blankets that I drag around from room to room. I want to see candlelight flickering, its glow hunting shadows across the walls. I want good stories, low, murmuring music, and the sound of a snoring cat. I want my grandmother's shortbread melting in my mouth.

I'm fortunate to have some of those things. I'll manage without the rest somehow, while perusing a few of my favourite seed purveyors and contemplating how long it will take the snowplough to find my rural street. I have had a beast causing havoc with my lungs for the past week. It's left me weary and frustrated, but my daily application of a poultice has been a lifesaver, and I'm finally sleeping through the night without waking up in frantic fits of coughing. I take each day as it comes. Another mustard plaster. Another towel, warm from the dryer, slipped onto my chest when the mustard cloth comes off. Another cup of mullein tea.

Christmas tide a minute wide,

Twelfth tide a cock's stride,

Candlemas tide an hour wide.

(old saying that speaks to the increase of light after the solstice)

We've had a full ten minutes more daylight today than we did when the year turned over. That is no small miracle when you live in the thin portion of an hourglass-shaped valley that routinely gets socked in with low cloud. We greedily welcome every small measure of increase we can get, when it comes to light. I spent the twelve days following Christmas filling my journal with daily observances and insights. Some folks mark these days leading up to twelfth night or old Christmas (January 6th) as omen days for the coming year (and just to be particular, some folks start on old Christmas and count forward eleven days for what the next twelve months will bring). Each day might have a hint to give, as far as weather, health, or fortune. I found that I witnessed a large amount of wildlife this year. Hawks and eagles, a lynx, and several giant crows all crossed my path in late December and the first week of this month.

Now that all the modern and old holidays are tied up with bows and put away for another year and plough Monday has come and gone, marking a return to work, there is little to keep a distracted creature like myself from my daily duties and chores. I am a bear at heart, and am so content to hibernate in January (and much of February if truth be told) but this year I seem to be stirring - almost pacing in my eagerness to get out. The weather here in southern British Columbia has been bitter and the wind unceasing, and so there hasn't been much in the way of walks by the river or trips out to my fire bowl. We are at that strange still time of mid-January, post winter celebrations and yet not quite reaching the time for the observances of chasing away the cold season. Even the Wild Hunt, in some tellings of the tale, is said to have lost its ferocity after Twelfth Night (yet other tales speak of the Hunt riding racously into early February before it rests).

The times betwixt, when the division between the worlds of man and spirit loses what little solidity it may have , are in the West Country the 'wisht' or 'hood' times; moments bewitched or empowered.

~ Gemma Gary, The Black Toad: West Country Witchcraft and Magic

What is to be done in the betwixt time, when we are still in the dark, cold caress of winter's hands, yet the buds of the magnolia are fat and furry and the local vineyards are pruning in preparation for the waking of the grape? What do we do when we cannot rest as we might have once during wintertide, because the old guard has stepped down and the keys are about to be handed to those who are incapable of being good stewards? When what was hangs so precariously, like the last ice-bitten apple on the tree. What then?

We make magic. We call back the Old Ones - the ones that never left this land. We ride with The Hunt or form our own band of misfits, and we make beautiful trouble. If you can stand and fight, you do that. If you can heal or protect, then you do that. If you can curse...you know where I'm going with this. My work may be quieter than yours, but it is happening. I've picked up my feather robe again (I've been haunted of late by dreams of people in flight like wild swans) for there is work to be done in the air as well as on the ground.

Stir. Wake. Make magic. The Wolf Moon of January is here. The light creeps in. The earth is not dead, nor is her slumber as deep as it was yesterday. Find reasons to celebrate, because even in the time of ice and cold and darkness and in the face of an incoming tyrant, we live. Gather your forces. Your ancestors. Your spirits. Doreen Valiente said "Once a person has had even one of these experiences of contacting the forces behind the world of form he or she is no longer in mental bondage to that world." Shake free of your bonds.

I want to sit in front of a window and watch the snow fall, and kiss. I want to sleep. I want to wake and find the world as exquisite as it was on my very best days. It's okay to want those things. It's just fine to take a breath. To ask for someone to hold you for a moment. But then we get up. We move. We howl and keen, and call down the stars or call up the dead, or do whatever we need to, to make sure there is a world to awaken to in the spring.

We aren't just here to turn the wheel, and to be polite placeholders for the seasons. We are here to stir the pot. Paint grease on our broomsticks and fly. Cause mischief. I intend to resist. Stir. Create. Burn. 

I'll meet you at the fire.

Witch Notes ~ bits of this and that:

~ My friend's mother introduced me to a mustard plaster/poultice. Mix dry mustard with the smallest bit of water until you form a paste. Spread on a clean rag (you won't be keeping this cloth) and place over your chest, being sure not to let the mustard seep through onto your skin (it will burn, baby). Leave on for ten minutes or more if you can handle the smell and tingling, and then remove and replace with a nice hot towel from the dryer (or hot water bottle). It's a lovely, stimulating treatment for heavy lungs. Kiva Rose also recommends an onion poultice which I've used a few times and found quite nice (perhaps give your spouse a head's up if you are going to slather yourself in onions - just to be fair).

~ A 'cock's stride' or 'cockstride' is said to be a small measure, primarily one of distance or length (in regards to time). Interestingly, there is a good bit of lore that speaks of how ghosts who were banished or 'laid down' by a priest might be allowed to return to their home by a cockstride a year (generally after first performing some almost-unending task - you can imagine how long it might take a waylaid ghost to return to its preferred haunt at that rate). Folklorist Mark Norman speaks more of those tales here. 

~ Briana Saussy speaks of omen days here.

~ There are many stories and cross-cultural takes on the Wild Hunt. I rather enjoy the book Phantom Armies of the Night: The Wild Hunt and the Ghostly Processions of the Undead, by Claude Lecouteux. Another fair source is The Esoteric Codex: German Folklore by Delbert Geitzen (chapter 59, specifically).

~ Do check out a mid-winter festival near you. There are many ice festivals, winter sports-themed celebrations, and assorted pre-lenten revelries to take part in.


Sources:

A Dictionary of English Folklore, Jacqueline Simpson, Stephen Roud (see: cocks)
The New England Farmer, Volume 2, Thomas Greene Fessenden, pg 271

Ozark Superstitions, Vance Randolph, Chapter 2 - Weather Signs
Where Witchcraft Lives, Doreen Valiente, pg 89

Trees, Trails, and Chickadees

The hills have been calling me for two weeks now, but the days have been frigid and icy and the wind wicked - not the kind of weather suitable for much except blankets and books. This week, a warm front moved in and melted the small amount of snow on the valley floor, leaving puddles for happy ducks and revealing green grass, and late autumn seeds for the profusion of quail picking through the yard. I gathered my wildcrafting friends, wise women who know the land and its stories, who hear it speak to them, just as I do, and we went up into the trees and the great rock bluffs to wander for a while.

The snow fell in tiny wisps of almost-flakes while we spread out and followed the trails that called to us. I became enthralled with a grove infested with what seemed like hundreds of chickadees. Their calls, excited peeps, and pecks and scratches on the tall pine and fir were a symphony, and their jumping and flittering from tree to tree, a ballet. You may have your Nutcracker, but I'll keep the wild chickadee troops, who eat massive amounts of food each winter's day and then induce hypothermia each night in order to stay alive through the long, cold months ahead.

There were other paths to follow. High mountain juniper called out to me, and I now have some infusing in oil for an after bath treat for my cold-weary skin. I stopped for a while and listened to the wind as it whispered through the old, sky-high pines. I traced deer tracks for a time, winding back and forth through the trees. I wanted so much to follow the coyote too, to see where it had gone roving, but my friends called out to me from a gorgeous bluff over the hill, and I left that trail of paws for another day.

We found several small trees that someone had cut and left where they fell. Why such waste, there's no way of knowing, but we allowed ourselves to scavenge the boughs of the fir and pine lying there to bedeck our own homes for the season. The drive home, in a vehicle stuffed to the roof with evergreens, was divine.

There was soup to be had at the end of our exploration, hearty warmth handmade by someone who knows her way around bones and herbs. As the cold faded from our own bones, we spoke of transformation, discovering the depths of ourselves, and finding where we belong - even if that is in more than one place and even if that knowing makes us ache.

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go. 

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

Excerpt from "Wilderness" ~ Carl Sandburg

Last night, after crushing a bit of juniper in my hands and bringing it to my cold nose, again and again, I finally drifted off to sleep and went back to that path of paw prints in the snow. I don't know if I ever found the canid that left them, but I woke feeling like I had been wandering all night in the cold.

Tonight there are candles lit, and extra blankets at the ready (as there will be for all the long nights to come) and I can't help but think about the chickadees gathering in their hollowed trees and any other shelter they can find, intentionally dropping their body temperature, transforming their food stores from the day into fuel to keep their body shivering until the dawn.

I don't know that I will mind if my dreams lead me back to the wintry forest. I might follow the trail of paws again, or perhaps I might learn something from those tenacious birds who embrace the cold, and find a way to evolve to suit it. Maybe they can teach me about going deeper, to the very edge of life, only to wake in the morning and begin the adventure again.




Assorted wintry bits:

~ The stars are falling again - the Geminids will put on a show for you on December 13-14th if you feel like looking to the sky. Great info here.

~ My delightful, if grumpy about the winter holidays, friend Hob from The Orphans's Almanac is now into his Nights of Krampus giveaways. You only have 24 hours to get in on each night's fun, so make sure you stop by his blog daily over the coming week to check out the wonderful and wicked goings on!

~ If you want to know much, much more about animals and working with them in a meaningful way as a spiritual practice, then do check out Sara Magnuson's class Animalia. Sara is wise, and passionate about her work with animals/animal spirits and this looks to be a fantastic course.

On Shortbread

This morning a malaise struck, and while I took care of myself with herbal tea and minerals, I yearned for some old, familiar comfort. When I'm terribly sick, bone broth and pillows are my usual choice of nurturing, but today's odd ache called for a spell of baking.

There is something about a warm kitchen and the scent of a sweet creation being conjured up, that soothes me. I have many happy memories of helping my mother bake, or being in my grandmother's kitchen while she whirled about.

Today I pulled out my grandmother's shortbread recipe, written in my mother's hand - well used and loved.  It's a simple recipe, usually made from memory, and often only at Christmastime.  I don't know why the family only makes it once a year. I spoke with my aunt tonight and she gasped at my making it. "All that butter" were her exact words.

Should you too decide to toss your cares about butter to the wind, here is my grandmother's simple recipe:

1 cup of butter, softened
1/2 cup of fruit sugar
2 cups of unbleached flour

English, Scottish, and Irish shortbread are similar. There are untold variations, not just from people to people, but even among family members. All involve butter, sugar, flour. You can use the exceptional Irish butter if you can find it, or true Amish butter, but good-quality, regular butter is perfect too. If your butter is unsalted, add a pinch of salt to the recipe.

We use "fruit" or "berry" sugar which is simply a finer grade of sugar than regular granulated. Regular sugar works too, or you can pulse it in a food processor a few times to make it a bit more fine. Scottish shortbread sometimes calls for brown sugar.

Cream butter with sugar and then add flour 1/2-1 cup at a time, kneading with your hands until the dough starts to crack.

Roll the dough and place in a pan or a cookie mold, or roll into balls and flatten - whatever rocks your shortbread socks.

Cookies - bake 350 degrees for approx 12 minutes
Bars - bake 350 degrees for approx 20 minutes

I am told that it's all about the hand-kneading, with shortbread.  Once I've got my butter and sugar together (I use a pastry cutter) I get in there.  In the pictures below, the top-right photo is the dough as I am adding flour. It gets a bit crumbly at first - keep kneading!

The picture on the left shows the dough "cracking." Again, it depends on which family member you ask, but kneading takes 5-10 minutes or until you are foolishly bored. I spent the time thinking of my grandmother - I'm sure that is why the cookies taste so good.

I opted for the quickie-cookie route, but you can do whatever you like when the dough is ready. It is more traditional to press the dough into a pan or roll it out, and carve it into bars.

I'm a stickler when it comes to baking time. The perfect shortbread is slightly golden on the bottom - not brown. Don't overcook your shortbread - you want it to melt in your mouth when you eat it.

Today, January 25th, also happens to be Scotsman Robert Burns' birthday. Raise a glass of whisky then, or a cup of milk, and enjoy a bit a shortbread with me. We sung his "Auld Lang Syne" just over three weeks ago, and now let's leave off with his "Grace After Dinner."

O Thou, in whom we live and move,

Who mad'st the sea and shore,

Thy goodness constantly we prove,

And grateful would adore.

And if it please thee, Pow'r above,

Still grant us with such store;

The Friend we trust; the Fair we love;

And we desire no more.

These January Nights

What is worth a glance in January is so small, so fleeting, or so grand and impossible, that I seem to either rush by without notice, or stop and stare - and not so much in between.  The white that blankets us here in The Valley can bless an individual plant with an icy, crystalline dress, and at the same time turn a meadow into a vast sort of nothingness.  The endless hills to the north can blend, dull and white, into the low clouds or they can sparkle like evergreen-dotted fairytale castles in the sky when the sun breaks through to shine upon them. The views each day swing wildly from breathtaking to bland.

So too, are the first days-melting-into-weeks of the year. We've finished off or frozen the holiday leftovers and the decorations have come down, leaving everything a little more stark and uninspiring than the opulence of last month.  Yet there is still an excitement about starting a new year - a fresh calendar with 365 open spots for us to fill up with plans and dreams and celebrations.  There is hope for a year sprinkled with achievements and adventure.

I'm not quite ready to give up every last ornament and source of illumination. I need a small amount of festivity.  I like a bit of flickering light on these dark, cold January nights. I've kept back a tiny tree in a bottle - the most miniature Winter vignette.  And there are fir boughs here and there. Soon they will be picked clean for incense making and dreamy oil infusions. There are so many candles too, dancing shapes and shadows up the walls and on to the ceiling.

There is much to do during the day. Aside from the occasional date with the snow shovel, the daily offerings to the birds, and my local coffee shop to haunt, I've got plenty of year-end work to keep me head-down at the office.

The evenings are a different story. The days are lengthening, but the night still has its rule. It offers much time for cooking satisfying meals and gathering up blankets, books, and cats for a good long settling-in. There has been altar work too, and endless, steamy baths.

The rattles have made an appearance during meditation and a perfect little bell, gifted to me by a dear friend, is rung each night. There is so much quiet this time of year (however needed, appreciated) that to invite some moments of sound seems to me to encourage Winter along - not showing it the door just yet, but to let it know that while we are resting, we are also beginning to stir.

What stirs you on deep Winter evenings?  Are you venturing out, or staying in?  Does the new calendar send you bounding into the year ready to take anything on, or do you linger yet around the fire, letting your plans and dreams form as you gaze into your tea cup?

These January nights won't last for long - we are half through them already. I hope the remaining eves give you much pleasure or time for planning - whatever this first month of the year inspires.

A Few of My Favourite Things 2014 Edition

We have come upon the final "guaranteed delivery by Christmas" days of the miracle that is online shopping.  I myself, will be pummeling my little post office with an armload of packages that have come to be known as "The Massive Holiday Chocolate Migration," and so I thought I'd share a few of the things that have made my heart soar this year, in case you would like to get those awesome folks on your gift list something special.  There is still time to snap up most of these items - as always, check with the shop proprietors to ensure holiday delivery.  Or just order something for yourself as a "holiday survival" reward!

If you'd like to see what I recommended last year, go here.

Assorted Awesomeness

I love snail mail in a huge way.  There is nothing that makes me happier than finding a hand-written note in my mail box.  I've been a huge fan of Vanessa's postcards for years, and if you've ever won a book from my October giveaways, you will have received one of her cards with your prize.

It may sound odd, but a stack of beautiful postcards might be the best gift ever (if you are shopping for me). There is something perfect and simple about a postcard - just enough room for a fond thought and a good wish.  She has a wonderful selection of art prints and fun labels at A Fanciful Twist too.


Cat Fish Creek Candles is an Etsy shop that was pointed out to me by the lovely Dana, and I'm completely smitten.  A few hundred different beeswax candle designs, ensures that you will find something that catches your eye. Designs range from animals and holiday themes, to food and spiritual symbolism.  As for me - I really need this happy little sheep in my life!

Mischief and Magic

Magic-maker Jacquelyn Tierney created these mugwort sticks from her own beautiful plants and offers them up in two perfect sizes.  I can't think of a better stocking stuffer for a gardener or a witch.


"Fifty-Four Devils: The Art and Folklore of Fortune-telling with Playing Cards" was featured last year, but I'm going to list it here again because the author, Cory Hutcheson, is donating the proceeds of his book until the end of the year to the Peter Paddon Memorial Fund. It is a fantastic book and a great gift for anyone who enjoys cartomancy, and you get the added benefit of donating to a good cause.


Carolina Gonzalez is the proprietress of Camino De Yara, an enchanting shop of charms, magical herbs, and ritual services.  Carolina's products are superb and her selection of herbs is impressive (including rare plants only found in the Canary Islands where she lives).  Because of the distance, shipping from the Canary Islands may not get to you by Christmas, but do bookmark this fantastic shop for your future magical needs.


The Wildwood Tarot is a deck I picked up earlier this year, and I'm lost in it.  I've been using it mostly as a meditation aid, but I imagine at some point I'll get around to doing full readings with it. We are still in our courting phase, I think.

Bath and Botanicals

Adirondack Aromatherapy creates some of the most stunning soaps I've ever seen.  I'm currently scrubbing down with her "Theives" variety, but I'd like to try them all!


King's Road Apothecary is a delightful shop full of incredible goodies created by the talented Rebecca (whose blog Cauldrons and Crockpots is top f*cking notch). Aside from wanting to be her when I grow up, I also really dig the products I've purchased from her.  My current favourite is not even something I buy for me - her "Busted Joint Ointment" helps my mother with the arthritis pain in her hands, and for that I'm a customer for life!



As a last gift,  I'm going to mention my friend Hob's new blog "The Orphan's Almanac" - not just because he is a wonderful writer, but because right now (and for the next 8 days) he is having a "12 Nights of Krampus" celebration, and you can win something awesome each day. Make sure you get your entries in before midnight when Krampus comes and the gift is gone!



*photos are copyright to, and property of, the shops listed below them and are linked back.

Leaving November Where It Lies

How swiftly November came upon us, and not even a proper courting before the land froze solid, thawed, and then chilled again.  I was walking in the tamarack a brief month ago, and now I can't even drive up the hill without encountering a few feet of snow.  Autumn seemed so rushed to leave - such a fleeting lover.  My lips were barely kissed with warm rain before the winds came and tore every leaf from its job, waving at passers by.  So short-lived were the oranges and the flaming reds. The Summer held on so long this year, that Fall only had time to give a sly wink and then moved on.

I've taken much of November as catch-up.  I work two jobs in October every year, and with putting the gardens to bed, running wild with the book giveaways all month long, and of course the usual cat, niece, and parent herding, I was a bit ragged by Halloween.

Like a good granddaughter does, I visited my grandparents' graves on All Souls Day, and washed the stones and left flowers and a treat for my grandfather. He usually gets my homemade cookies, but this year I found some Eccles cakes in a shop and knew that it was the perfect offering.  His mother used to make them, and we all keep the recipe sacred in our family.  I'll make some at Christmas and be sure to take him another treat.

I had a lovely chat with my friend's 92 year old mother about her celebrations of All Souls in Bangladesh.  When they lived in the area, there had been a large Catholic contingent, and the celebration on that day stretched through the town.  People would come singing out of the little hill settlements, and down along the roadways, and everyone would meet at the cemetery to clean the graves and lay flowers and candles.  Afterward there were prayers at the Catholic church and feasts later at homes that hosted hundreds of people passing through.  My friend's birthday is on November 2nd and she says that those birthdays growing up in Bangladesh were the happiest of her life.  She felt honoured to have a birthday on All Souls Day.

The souls themselves have lingered as Autumn moved on. The 'thin-time' seems to be always, but it is perhaps a more pronounced feeling as Winter approaches.  The sounds of the vitality of Summer and the buzzing of the earth have been quieted in sleep.  This slipping in to hibernation tends to offer up the space for the softer voices to be heard, leaving no buffer against the silence, save the growing bustle of the holiday season.  And what else are the holidays for, really, but keeping the fires lit and the spirits lifted to weather the long, cold months ahead.  Even as we celebrate we keep an eye to door, lest the wolf, Krampas, or Marley's ghost find their way in.

"There is an old tale that Herne the Hunter,

Sometimes a keeper in Windsor Forest,

Doth all the wintertime, at still midnight,

Walk around about an oak with great ragged horns;

And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,

And makes milch-kine* yield blood, and shakes a chain

In a most hideous and dreadful manner:"

* milk cows

The winds are battering The Valley this week.  The ice has come early, and settled in.  The Wild Hunt is riding and the Old Woman of Winter is sending the deer into the lowlands looking for food. The meagre offerings left in my front flower garden will not sustain them for long, but they are wise and know of the silly woman who talks to deer and leaves seeds and nuts out for birds, and extra helpings hidden under the trees just for them.

And so, as Autumn gives up its last breath and is defeated before the rash advance of ice and snow, I will leave November where it lies, with a quick kiss on its hastily turned cheek.  It gave me but a moment's rest before the excitement begins anew in December, and for that I am thankful.

I hope November leaves you safe, well-fed, and warm, with the good cheer and stamina to enjoy a December as restful or raucous as you like.






My late November-December reading choices: 

"Phantom Armies of the Night: The Wild Hunt and the Ghostly Processions of the Undead" by Claude Leconteux
"A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens
"Acadian Christmas Traditions" by Georges Arsenault

*quoted text from Shakespear's Merry Wives of Windsor

There Will Be Waiting Yet

Today the snow returned, and then the light. I sat for a time in the backyard, watching the snowflakes sparkle in the sun while they fell from the sky like tiny stars.  

This time of year is a tease. While eastern and northern folks don't even hope for signs of spring until April, we often see movement in late February. The snow melts, and even as the frost comes and goes, the most opportunistic plants push forth. It is not unusual to see the green of chickweed and little chive shoots this soon (delightful in an early-spring potato salad.) But this morning, glancing at the inches of snow lingering on the garden beds, I realize that I'm still in for a bit of a wait for those green gifts. 

I'm making potato salad anyway.

I've had my head down these last weeks - working my way through winter the only way I know how.  Shovel snow, feed the birds (and now the hungry ducks and deer come too,) trudge along through year-end and tax-time work at the office, snuggle cats, light candles, meditate, leave offerings, and then...breathe. 

Still, there is the slightest shift - barely perceptible - but it's there. I saw it in the mountain sheep ewes coming down the hill yesterday, heading low into the valley as they do when the grasses start to show at the edge of the roadsides. I saw it in the swans returning - just a few - but they are coming back to stop over on our lakes before they head to other destinations. The little pumpkin farm to the south of us has new covers on their greenhouses where they grow bedding plants for sale. The orchardists and those that tend the vinyards have been seen wanding through their rows of trees and vines, inspecting.

There will be waiting yet.  Which may be good for me.  As much as I long to see the earth again, I have work sitting in neat piles, and people wanting things from me - and I've been resisting. I'm only half-awake here, barely into the second week of February, and if the ground thawed tomorrow I know myself enough to fear that I'd toss my tax files into a corner and plunge my hands wrist-deep in the ground and not come back inside for any reason.

There are also many plans for this year.  Ideas and journeys and all sorts of adventures that make my mind swim with delight.  While I could easily lose an afternoon to dreaming about such things, I'm working on keeping my concentration on the tasks at hand, which often proves terribly difficult for my wandering brain.

My month thus far has been filled with distraction, but also with gentle forward progress.  

How is your February faring?