If you spy a flash of red in the brown and white winter landscape, it is most likely the native Winterberry cheering us on through the dark seasons of the year. Most people associate holly with December and the holidays, but the jolly jagged-leafed and berried sprigs that are popular in wreaths and other decorations are probably the only member of the holly family that keeps its green leaves over the winter. Most native hollies shed their leaves in Fall. The fruits of the Winterberry remain on its bare branches throughout the Winter. Winterberry is also known as black alder or fever bush.

 

This plant is easy to grow if you know that a male and female plant are both required in order to produce the coveted red berries. As long as a male plant is within forty feet of females, pollination will occur. The berries make it a lovely addition to the garden for wintertime interest, when almost everything else is dull and resting. Most importantly, though, the berries provide food for birds and small mammals at winter’s end, when nourishment is hard to find.

The Native Americans used Winterberry for medicine, gathering both the bark and the berries before the first frost. The berries and the bark are used for two very different kinds of remedies and are not interchangeable.

A decoction can be made of the bark by boiling down two ounces of bark in 3 pints of water until the liquid equals 2 pints. This can be applied externally for skin ailments. For diarrhea, fever or dropsy, the recommended dosage is 2 -3 fluid ounces.

The berries act as a powerful purgative and not recommended, even considered poisonous by some herbalists.

The Winterberry is a beautiful addition to any garden, especially if you are cultivating native plants.

In a peaceful, still-secluded part of Wales deep in the Berwyn Mountains there is an ancient shrine to a saint beloved by locals as well as strangers to this part of the world who make the pilgrimage. Her dedication to protecting little creatures of the forest, especially hares, lives on as it has since at least the sixth century, perhaps longer. She is Melangell, protector of the small wild ones. Her story is like a fairy tale that has come down through thousands of years as pure and true as the animals who remain protected today under her sacred promise.

Legend tells of an Irish princess who, rather than being forced into an arranged royal marriage, ran away to become a holy hermit, finding solace in the wooded haven of Powys, central Wales. There she settled in a cave, living on whatever sustenance she could find in her sylvan surroundings, befriended only by the resident wildlife. Her solitude was interrupted when Brochfael, Prince of Powys, discovered her after his pack of hunting hounds chased a hare into a brambly thicket. The hounds quickly retreated, cowering and howling in confusion. Puzzled, Brochfael made his way through the briers and was confronted by the calm gaze of Melangell, who nestled the hare in the folds of her garments. After he recovered from his astonishment, he began questioning her. Having heard her story, he did what any prince would do upon meeting a gentle, strong and beautiful woman in the forest. He proposed marriage. Melangell refused, of course, and Brochfael was sufficiently awed by her devout dedication to accept this. The noble prince then offered to give her the surrounding land if she would start a monastery where others could come and find the same spiritual serenity. After considering for a moment, she agreed but only on the promise that it would also be a refuge for gentle, wild creatures who, like herself, had no choice except to flee when threatened. How could a prince refuse?

The fairy tale has a happy ending. The promise was kept long beyond Melangell’s long lifetime and remains intact today. Hunting is prohibited. In fact, local hares are still called “wyn bach Melangell” or “Melangell’s little lambs”. Many still believe that if a hare is in peril and someone shouts “God and Melangell be with thee!” the hare will escape.

One fascinating question intrigues today’s archaeologists, folklorists, and pagans alike. Was Melangell, like so many other Celtic saints, actually a descendant of a long line of similar female residents of that valley who were guardians of the land? There is no proof of this because these things were never recorded except perhaps in oral traditions that are lost in time. However, there is a Bronze Age site close to her shrine that contains remains of a wall built by a pre-Christian community in the middle of the oak forest that spreads over the valley. Several neolithic ring barrows, cairns, and standing stones mark forgotten sacred spaces on the hilltops around the shrine. Melangell’s shrine itself is encircled by yew trees that are estimated to be 2,000 years old. Still more evidence may be the old name for the rock ledge that is known as Melangell’s Bed, also called The Giantess’s Bed. Throughout the Celtic lands, similar natural rock formations still carry titles associated with giantesses, hags, or other mysterious feminine figures, most likely memories of primordial goddesses whose names no one can recall.

Then there’s the hare, which throughout northern Europe is a symbol of the divine feminine. Julius Caesar recorded in his commentaries that the hare was sacred to the Celts. It was taboo to dine on hare in many parts of Ireland and Wales. In Wales there is still a belief in a hereditary line of “hare witches” or shape-shifting women.

Whether she is the spirit of an ancient priestess or a sixth century saint (or both!), Melangell’s holy vow to protect the woods and its small creatures still holds today. Her gentle strength shines on through the ages to inspire guardianship of wild places and sanctuary for those harmless ones who have no choice but to flee when threatened.

 

Illustrations include this sketch of a decorative portion of the rood screen in St Melangell’s shrine depicting her story. The rood screen was a feature of late Medieval church architecture partitioning the nave and chancel and made of open tracery in wood, stone or wrought iron and topped by a rood loft supporting a depiction of the crucifixion. St Melangell’s rood screen, built in the 1400’s, was originally colorfully painted.

 

Sources:

“Melangell with a Thousand Angels” – orthochristian.com

“Wales Best 100 Churches” by T.J.Hughes, 2006.

Illustrations public domain, Wikipedia Commons

Mara Freeman’s excellent blog – chalicecentre.net/blog

 

 

All the complicated details

of the attiring and

disattiring are completed!

A liquid moon

moves gently among

the long branches.

Thus having prepared their buds

against a sure winter

the wise trees

stand sleeping in the cold.

(“Winter Trees” by Jacob Broesch, oil on canvas)

 

 (originally published in WYRD, Winter 1988)

Capricorn, the sure-footed, climbing Goat, has been connected with Winter Solstice since ancient times. Observing the Sun’s progressively lowering path each day, early sky-watchers viewed Solstice’s advent with trepidation. What if the Sun eventually sank so low that it vanished forever, leaving the world in perpetual night? Vigils of every kind are still held all over the globe as Solstice approaches, but every year the Sun faithfully regains its dignified ascent. The Goat is the constellation in which the Sun appears to begin its renewed climb after Winter Solstice. In old star maps, Capricorn is portrayed as a sea-goat with goat’s head and body and fishy fins and tail. This supposedly allowed the creature to survive Winter floods and rains as well as to climb through the heavens.

 

There are a couple of legends explaining the strange goat/fish hybrid. One story tells how Pan leaped into a river to escape the fire-breathing monster, Typhon. He tried to change into a fish as he dove into the water but the shape shifting was hastily done and only semi-successful, leaving him with goatish torso and head. Another account describes Pan mischievously entertaining some river nymphs by trying to change his lower half into a fish as he jumped into the water with them. Jupiter, amused by this sight, put the bizarre figure into the sky as a constellation.

 

Another bit of Capricorn/Solstice trivia – in ancient Peru, Winter Solstice marked the New Year which was the Festival of the Beard. When the Peruvians looked up at this constellation, they saw Nicca the Beard, not the Goat. However, the beard happens to be one of the main features of a goat, so continuity remains. Celebrants wore masks with long beards to mark the occasion. Even today, many men grow a beard in Winter and don’t shave until Spring. Although in most cases, this is simply to protect their faces against the weather, I know some pagan men who like to consider this a personal reflection of the season transformation of the Sun God, young and smooth-cheeked in Spring and bewhiskered and mature in Winter! (and let’s not forget Santa Claus’ beard)

 

The Goat has a long history of playing the role of sacrificial animal, often pictured as dying, falling down with one leg tucked under his body. Saturn, the planetary ruler of Capricorn, generally brings denial and necessity into our lives, demanding sacrifices. Saturn brings us to our knees, humbling us through restrictions and teaching us patience through hardship. Even though Saturn can be considered the destroyer, the bringing of symbolic or actual death, Saturn is also a redeemer, turning our vision inward to contemplate the sources of rebirth. The fact that the body of the dying Goat ends in a vigorous fish tail suggests resurrection.

 

One recurring theme that persists throughout the subjects of Solstice and Capricorn is sacrifice. Of course modern Witches do not practice human or animal sacrifice, but the concept of sacrifice itself is still an important part of our practices. Originally, the scapegoat served as a vehicle for public purging of the community’s collective evils. Universally, before the beginning of a new cycle or new year, people are eager to cleanse and purify themselves from the negativities or troubles of the old cycle. Nearly every branch of Wicca/Witchcraft includes the traditional “dying god” myth but we often fall short, removing the idea of sacrifice to a safe distance by projecting it in symbolic terms only. If we really want to live out the axiom As Above, So Below, we must take these symbols and breathe life into them by incorporating them into our daily lives. It’s easy enough to connect the cycle of seasons with birth, death, and rebirth and even go so far as to ritually enact some of the myths of the year, notably the Oak King and Holly King. But unless we can really apply these symbols and mythological figures to our everyday lives, they remain only distantly remembered fairy tales, or at best good stories to tell around a Winter’s fire. It is up to us to keep our myths alive, and we cannot do this by merely going through the ritual motions in circle or temple.

 

Winter Solstice occurs when the Sun appears to stand still before slowly gaining height in its daily path through the heavens. In our coven, we stand still, like the Sun, observing ritual silence in an unlit circle beginning at sunset on the longest night. In this silence, we listen, taking advantage of the peaceful stillness to hear our own inner voices and receive spiritual guidance. As the night goes on, we start to light candles, one by one. Solstice night is the peak of our Dwelling-Within Time, time to search out and confront the darkest parts of our lives, digging out our innermost diamonds of light. Each and every one of us is indeed a star, pursuing our unique and specially blessed paths across this dark plain called Life. As the candle-glow gradually increases in our circle, each newly kindled flame reminds us of our obligation to keep growing like the waxing Light, climbing steadily like the regenerated Capricornus, even in darkness maintaining the gleam of perfect love and perfect trust.

 

Sacrifices vary. Sometimes tokens representing bad habits or stale patterns are “sacrificed” on the altar or in the Cauldron. A scapegoat can be created in whatever form is appropriate, into which the coven throws all of their accumulated rubbish and then the scapegoat is burned. However, making a sacrifice doesn’t always have to be a dramatic, somber occasion. In Yuletide giveaways, try giving away some of your own possessions, things you feel might serve another person better than they’ve been serving you. Often people get overburdened by material things and the possessions actually seem to own the person rather than vice versa. Even if this consists of merely cleaning out your closet and donating the discards to charity, the sacrifice will not only rid you of useless baggage and unclutter your life but will also help the less fortunate.

 

There is another side to this, though, and it is the sacrifices that we, as Witches, are required to make all year round. At Solstice, we look up and see Capricorn, the Goat, humbly dying on one knee yet bravely demonstrating that regeneration comes only by way of death. Therefore we should not hesitate or flinch at giving our own last drop of blood, our last penny, our utmost creativity, or our last weary bit of energy  to fill the Goddess’ Chalice. The biggest sacrifice we can possibly make is ourselves, and we should do this without fear, without sadness, and without looking back. Each of us experiences our own longest night, or dark night of the soul, which can happen in any season, any year, at which time we are forced to sacrifice our inner peace to face personal tests and challenges.

 

Listening closely on Solstice night, you may hear the song of your truest and highest self – not the various voices with which you answer to your various names. Everyone has a variety of faces or voices they assume as Mom, Lover, Sister, and so forth. This is perfectly normal. A pure, eternal voice, the voice of your ongoing spirit, separate yet intrinsically a part of your whole identity, can be heard if you listen with an open heart. Let its song lift you, carry you upwards, and lead you to fuller harmonies with your world. Acknowledge its power and fearlessly love and trust its wisdom. If you are silent enough to humbly sacrifice your assorted and often conflicting voices and just be still, if you learn to sing along with the angelic carol you hear on Solstice, you will discover a starry glow that will guide you through even the longest of your nights. Abandon yourself to this starlight, sacrifice all your self-centered needs, and let the star and its song become your center. By doing so, you will find unimaginable bliss and blessings.

 

Wishing peace and enlightenment to all – happy Yuletide!

 

If you’re like me, you are susceptible to what medical professionals like to call the appropriately acronymed SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) otherwise known as Winter Blues. Mine varies in intensity from year to year. This year, for some reason, it has hit especially hard. The symptoms include unexplained fatigue, apathy, excess sleepiness, appetite changes, depression and lack of concentration. General consensus states that the cause is lack of sunshine during Autumn and Winter.  Or perhaps it’s just holiday stress. Or both! Typical treatment involves basking under special light bulbs, supposed to compensate for the gloom of wintry days. Psychotherapy is often suggested.

 

This Green Witch mistrusts mainstream medical advice. After all, some doctors deny that “SAD” even  exists outside the minds of their patients. They are quick to reach for their pad and scribble out prescriptions for happy pills to get us through this little mood swing. I prefer to rely on my own resources and knowledge to drag myself out of SADness. It isn’t always easy summoning the energy to fight this gnawing emptiness that settles like a ball of lead in the pit of my stomach when I feel like doing nothing but hibernating until next year.

 

One herb or plant that helps also happens to be one of my favorites – Rosemary. Everyone knows the old adage “Rosemary for remembrance”, thereby some associate Rosemary with Samhain. While I can see the traditions of remembering the dead at that time, Rosemary also attends happier occasions such as weddings and anniversaries. She is a Sun-ruled herb, connected with the element of Fire. Her affiliations seem too bright for Samhain. I associate Rosemary with summertime because she thrives best in warm, sunny, oceanside climates. To me, everything about this herb speaks of cheerfulness and uplifting charm, from her slender, reaching branches to the sweetly pleasant, piney fragrance of her leaves.

 

The phrase about “remembrance” comes from Shakespeare’s Ophelia in Act IV, Scene 5 of “Hamlet” where she says to Laertes: “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.” In the late 1500’s Rosemary started appearing at weddings and funerals. According to legend, Shakespeare wrote with Rosemary on his desk to stimulate his mind.

 

In the 1300’s the first European alcohol-based perfume was distilled from fresh rosemary for Queen Elisabeth of Hungary. Queen of Hungary’s water is still enjoyed today. Much is to be said for it’s positive effects, since Elisabeth lived from 1305 to 1380, an extraordinarily long life for those times.

 

Brewed as tea, Rosemary definitely provides a lift. The flavor is aromatic, sharp, and bitter. Some say it opens up your psychic senses. It does brighten and waken, restoring a certain zest to life. Her association with protection, cleansing and even exorcism attests to her potential for banishing the darker stuff.

 

Externally, Rosemary is applied for relief of aches and pains such as in rheumatism, arthritis, muscle strains and wounds. It makes an excellent hair rinse and scalp tonic, especially for dark hair, and helps control dandruff.

 

Rosemary is part of the mint family. Her Latin name translates as “dew of the sea” because of her lovely pale blue flowers. Later she became associated with the VIrgin Mary.

Recently, Rosemary has become popular as little Christmas trees, probably because of the pine-like fragrance and the ease of trimming the plant into cute topiary shapes for the holidays. This is actually not such a great idea and it’s unlikely that a Rosemary purchased as a Christmas tree will survive long enough to be taken outside the following Summer. Imagine being raised in the ideal conditions of a warm, well-lit greenhouse, then transported to a big box store, put on display there, and finally carried through a blast of winter to a dry, overheated home to be hung with tinsel and ornaments. It’s the dry heat that is this unfortunate Rosemary’s worst enemy! That often makes overwintering Rosemary a challenge, whether bought during the holidays or brought indoors in a pot after a happy season in the sun. They don’t adapt well to drastic changes.

 

The best way to overwinter potted Rosemary is to mist lightly several times a day. It’s tricky to simulate the conditions of her natural habitat, where the sea breeze keeps her comfortable in the sunny environment but not too damp or humid. A good set-up is to place several plants together on a tray lined with pebbles to catch any drained-off water. The pebbles as well as the close grouping of the plants helps keep Rosemary nicely hydrated. Avoid placing them near heat sources that can gradually dry them out. A light, somewhat sandy soil with good drainage will help this herb avoid what might be its own version of the Winter Blues.

 

Sources:  Garden Witch’s Herbal by Ellen Dugan

Wikipedia

https://www.natufia.com/blogs/natufia/rosemary-a-symbol-of-love-and-fidelity

 

Sleeping hills all dressed in mist,

Grass frost-kissed, winter-caressed,

Nest of swansdown, midnight tryst,

Tangled, twisted, warmly blest.

Deep in darkness, door ajar,

No sleep, no dreams – November.

Beacon gleams on hill afar.

Star-kindled, I remember.

 

Rannaicheacht Mhor  (ron -a yach voor) is a traditional Irish bardic form of poetry. It consists of quatrain stanzas of heptasyllabic lines consonating abab. There are at least two cross-rhymes in each couplet and the final word of line three rhymes with a word in the interior of line four. In the second couplet, the rhymes must be exact, but the first couplet need only consonate.

Image of a bonfire on Uisnach hill from irelandsancienteast.com

 

It’s a little late to be writing about the 2018 Herb of the Year, but Hops are always worthy of mention.

They are among the oldest herbs to be cultivated for human consumption, notably for brewing ale. Hildegard von Bingen, the twelfth-century healer and herbalist, is usually credited with the first official mention of hops although earlier documentation goes back 300 years earlier as an ingredient of gruit, the ancestor of beer. It was recorded that Charlemagne’s father grew hops in his garden, which was important enough to be mentioned in his will in the year 768.

Gruit was brewed from an assortment of bitter wild herbs and flowers such as marigolds, mugwort, dandelions, heather, burdock, and what was known as “berghopfen” or mountain hops. It was spiced with ginger, juniper berries or other ingredients to give each batch a unique flavor. Beginning in the eleventh century, hops slowly took over the place of spices because it was a good preservative as well as being less expensive to use. By the sixteenth century, the English were differentiating between ale, which at that time contained no hops, and the beer brought in by Dutch traders. The Pilgrims brought hops with them to America and soon it was being cultivated from Massachusetts to Virginia.

Beer is probably the first thing to come to mind when hops are mentioned. Another form of brewing, as an herbal tea or as a tincture, creates a remedy that is relaxing and calming, much like the effects of valerian. A pillow stuffed with hops helps relieve insomnia. Hops are also known to be treatment for the discomforts of menopause because they contain estrogen. Tea helps banish stomach queasiness, aiding production of stomach secretions.

Getting started growing hops is easy if you follow this simple plan. Over the winter, do some research. Decide what kind of hops you want to grow and search out where to purchase them. Experts recommend obtaining rhizomes in early Spring and keeping them refrigerated until planting time. According to your geographical zone, wait until the last frost date is passed, then choose a spot for planting. The best site would be southern exposure with good drainage. Also consider the fact that hops grow vertically, and can reach a height of 20 feet, so be sure to be ready to provide them with good support. Plant the rhizomes 3 feet apart and 6 to 12 inches deep. Water them often but just enough to encourage root growth. They will sprout a few weeks after planting. Then stand back and marvel at their daily progress. In summer, they can grow as fast as a foot each day! Harvest time comes in late August or early September, when the cones turn a lighter color and feel dry. Whether you use them for brewing or for herbal remedies, they can be dried as you would any other herb and kept in a tightly sealed container.

Meanwhile, if you can’t wait to grow your own, hops are available through any mail order herb company or your local herb shop if you want to experiment with them over the winter. Health foods stores may carry them in capsule form. The side-effects are rare and few. Occasionally people who take hops for sleeplessness experience worsening symptoms and should either lessen the dosage or stop completely. Hops can sometimes cause menstrual irregularities – remember, they do contain estrogen and everyone’s bodies are different – and in that case, it is best to find another remedy.

It’s not too late to think about sampling the 2018 Herb of the Year or including it in your garden next season. Plan ahead – and good luck with next year’s harvest!

As a Green Witch, Airmid has been my patron for many years. I am dedicated to her service in a world that is in dire need of wisdom, knowledge, and application of the ancient healing arts. She has a sacred place in my garden where lady’s mantle grows at the foot of her statue. I often reach out to her for patience, guidance, and maintenance of vision when I work with plants. I like to think of myself as her daughter. I know she watches over me along with other Green Witches.

This is her story, handed down from Irish traditions.

Airmid, her father Dian Cecht, and her brother Miach were a family of healers who were among the mythical Tuatha de Danann, a mysterious race of gifted beings who settled in Ireland in ancient times. The three of them tended a magical well or sacred spring by which they could revive the dead. Their mortally wounded warriors were placed into the healing waters while father, daughter, and son sang over them with the intent of making them whole again. It never failed.

Trouble began when Dian Cecht’s abilities were overshadowed by those of his children. When Nuada, King of the Tuatha de Danann, lost an arm in battle, he was deemed unworthy of his royal role because a blemished king was unacceptable. Dian Cecht crafted a silver arm for Nuada, which allowed him to remain as king. Then Miach and Airmid took it one step further and used this charm to restore Nuada’s arm to its formerly flawless strength.

Bone to bone
Vein to vein
Balm to Balm

Sap to Sap
Skin to skin
Tissue to tissue

Blood to blood
Flesh to flesh
Sinew to sinew

Marrow to marrow
Pith to pith
Fat to fat

Membrane to membrane
Fibre to fibre
Moisture to moisture

(Carmina Gadelica, volume IV, pp. 215-217, Alexander Carmichael, Scottish Academic Press, Edinburgh 1970)

This charm has been passed down in oral traditions and is still used by healers today.

Dian Cecht, in a jealous rage, killed his son. After he was buried, 365 different herbs sprung up on his grave.  Airmid plucked them up and sorted them out on her cloak according to the special qualities of each one. Dian Cecht, however, was still angry and tossed the cloak into the air, scattering the plants into chaos.

Nevertheless, Airmid remembered it all and quietly kept the secrets locked in her heart to pass down to her followers to this day. The number 365 assures us that her beloved herbs are effective for any purpose, all year round, not just in leaf and flower but also in seed, stem, or root. She stands with us in all seasons, waiting to answer the call for healing.

We need her now, more than ever, in a world where destruction of Nature is running rampant. There would be no life on Earth without green things, for they sustain us in every way. From the mighty redwoods to the humble moss beneath our feet, the green world must be healed and preserved if we are to see the coming generations alive and well.

Airmid can show us the ways to healing. There are cures for every dis-ease and wound available in Nature, both physical and non-physical ailments included.

Here is a poem I wrote in honor of Airmid, who was ever-resourceful and filled with hope for the future.

 

“Conachlonn for Airmid“

 

Airmid’s cloak enfolds us all-

Falling leaves, old spell weaves

Sweet, tragic magic, shattered,

Scattered. Grieve not for Airmid!

 

Earth-secrets wait to be found,

Bound in ribbons of rebirth.

Remember embers of light,

Bright seeds, healers of Earth.

 

(note: the conachlonn is a simple bardic form of chain poem in which the last word of one line connects by repetition or rhyme with the first word of the next line)

 

“Chase”

 

Summer to Autumn,

Stag to the doe,

Folly to wisdom,

Warrior to foe –

Dreamer to rainbow,

Poet to verse,

Hounds to the marrow,

Thief to the purse –

River to ocean,

Thirst to the cup,

Always in motion,

Never gives up –

Laughter to sorrow,

Breath unto breath,

Chasing tomorrow,

Birth until death.

(by Goldie Brown)

 

 

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton