by Lauren
I suppose I have a brown thumb. Not black – I’m not completely hopeless with plants – but I’ve killed a good number of succulents over the years.
So when we began the garden at Gryphon’s Landing, I was excited to contribute but unsure about actual plant care.
I set down bricks for the herb spiral in our first year and hauled soil for square foot gardens our second. I dug holes for herbs and vegetables; I learned their magical and culinary properties.
And I weeded.
On the hottest days of summer. Under the stifling weight of an incoming storm. On the most miserable days, it seemed, I feel the need to weed. It is an itch under my skin.
I need to scrape my fingers through the crumbling dirt. Curl my toes in the crackling grass. Touch lavender and sweetgrass and rue. Whisper the uses I remember, and ask about the many I forget. In doing so, I ease away the troubles of the day and ground myself – quite literally – in the spirit of the Earth. The days that I weed before ritual or lucid alchemy, I settle more comfortably into the headspace of magic. I feel my connection to the Earth, to the elements. To the spirits of land and sky. The rhythms of weeding comfort and calm me.
There have been bumps, of course. It took me a while to recognize weed from herb, and I still have to double check sometimes whether a plant is there intentionally. But as the summer wanes and our hard work bears fruit, I am delighted to pluck tomatoes and scythe pennyroyal for use as a coven. In the season of Lugh, we don’t just weed; we harvest.
I am not enough of a gardener, yet, to keep all these plants alive myself. But if I do the weeding, and others do the mulching…the harvesting…the brewing…then we have all put a bit of ourselves into the land. We strengthen our ties as a coven and deepen our understanding of the Craft. We surround our backyard circle with memories and scents. And our spirits together grow a stronger magic.