Fall Foraging & Hungry Kitchen Crow

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After work one day, earlier in October, I meandered through a local trail to see what I could forage. It was a blustery day with off and on rain and intermittent clear skies. Whenever the seasons begin to make their shift, there's a sort of battle that goes on in the sky. It's an odd micro climate I live in. The temperature, wind and rain can vary quite dramatically from where I live to where my job is located, a mere 7 miles away. The buttes, small valleys, dense forest patches create pockets of strange isolated weather happenings. One of the many reasons I love it out here...

Plantain.

Rosehips.

Yarrow leaf.

I gathered up what I stumbled upon. Originally I was looking verbascum thapsus, mullein. I've always been oddly drawn to that plant and I was hoping to find some to begin forging a relationship with it. Mullein loves disturbed rocky soils and despite the fact that I was in prime mullein growing territory, I found none!  I did however find a surprising amount of young yarrow leaf shooting up and the always abundant plantain. Rosehips aplenty too.

I plan to make a healing salve with the plantain and yarrow, once dried.

Along this very same trail, I found a sun bleached crow skeleton. After months of seeing him just sit there, I finally took him home. His skull was perfectly intact as well as some wing bones. As an animist, I believe that his spirit still resides in his bones and over time, we have developed an interesting relationship. One day, I walked into the kitchen to find him exactly like this...

Maw! Maw! Feed me!

Maw! Maw! Feed me!

Silenced with chicken skin and fat. He's my kitchen table companion, often watching as I process herbs, pull cards and taking food scraps as offerings. He's always hungry and a little greedy. He is a surprisingly and both unsurprisingly communicative and active spirit to work with. One of his wing bones resides in my bone throwing set and he's always sure to make his opinions known.



Arrival of Darkness & The Hibernating Bear

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Oregon coast.

October started off ridiculously glorious, almost alarmingly glorious, here in my city. Bright warm days, golden sun, sun glasses, crop tops and shorts still an option. Warm weekends spent in debaucherous revelry were snatched away from me too quickly. But, all good and beautiful things do inevitably come to an end.

The rains came alright though, they came just fine. When the rains don't come, or they're late it worries me. Mt. Hood sat all greyish for weeks... and then boom! The next day he was covered in a white blanket. It poured heavy those last few weeks of October and through this early November. A second spring as I like to call it. Everything becomes green again after the dryness of summer, moisture loving plants come back to life...

And then darkness descends. 4pm sunsets, living in a perpetual state of gloaming and artificial light when it's too dark too see in your home. I am exalted in the sun, it gives me a joy I can't describe. But, it's an odd comfort this season and despite my moaning and groaning, I take full advantage of what it has to offer: incubation, hibernation, introspection.

Wildwood and bone reading.

The Bear has been a figure in my dreams, in my divination, in the ashes of burned candles and wax. The mother with her offspring lurks in the forests of my dreamscapes... I stopped for a moment in a book store not too long ago, to take a peek into Ted Andrews book Animal Speak. He wrote of how the female bear goes to her den for the winter, the seed that she carries is nurtured in the darkness and in the spring, she emerges proudly with what she cultivated in incubation. This is what Bear is encouraging me to do, I believe. I listen.

My den is outfitted, my work has presented itself to me and I shall begin. Through dreams, through trance and speaking with spirit. The work never ends and it is always beginning.

A Bath for Sorrow and Loss.

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I stood in my kitchen this morning before dawn, shivering, wet, cold and red eyed from tears.

I lost someone dear to me. I felt anger, sadness and betrayal, my mind was spinning. I spent the night unable to sleep and as 4:45am approached I decided to wash it away. Spiritual bathing is old and effective. I rose and made coffee and I put together a blend of lemongrass, rosemary and angelica. I said my prayers into the cup of my hands while holding each herb. I prayed that I may be relived from sorrow, from the anger, from the racing thoughts, the feeling of weakness. I prayed for strength. I hadn't really cried yet about it, but I did then. Like a dam breaking under the pressure.

  • Lemongrass removes old conditions and cleanses.
  • Rosemary to cleanse and bring power to me as a woman.
  • Angelica to heal and bring strength to me as a woman.

I could have added some some other things, but this blend called to me. It was simple and sounded right. Balm of Gilead, good for a wounded heart, would be a fine addition and I may add that in my next bath. I will continue this work over the course of several days.

I brewed all of this up in boiling water, making a strong infusion. I diluted it in a basin, set it in the tub and poured it over my body, from head to toe, allowing the water to collect in the tub. I called upon my ancestors and spirits to aid me, and prayed as I forcibly ran my hands down my body. Pushing it off, shaking it off, washing it off. And that's how I ended up standing in my kitchen dripping wet, cold but relieved. After I air dried, I put on clean clothes and walked to my nearest crossroads. As I approached the center of the crossroads, I tossed my used and collected bath water over my left shoulder towards the rising sun. I walked home and didn't look back.

Further reading: This is how we heal, by Miss Bri.

Knowing When to Pause.

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The days have been filled with avoiding the heat. The earth here is parched and the grasses are dying. You can smell the deep tang of the invasive blackberries in the midday sun, mingling with the loam of the forest, heated pine resin and the sweetness of dried grasses. Briar path days are upon us. I've taken pity on my neighbors dehydrated rose bushes (they've moved out and are gone) and am currently watering them. The plants feel glad. I've noticed the black (Br'er) rabbit family and local hares only come out to graze at dawn and dusk, avoiding the heat. It almost feels as if my little area is holding it's breath for a bout of rain, I think it really is.

There's an odd feeling of burn out I've been dealing with. I don't know if it's burn out, per-say. But I feel like disappearing somewhere for a little while, disconnecting from the internet and stopping the flow of communications. That need to isolate yourself and recharge so you can reconnect. It's hard when you have a lot of real life obligations, when you simply can't turn off the internet and you feel that never ending nagging persistence to be super productive, to get shit done and be awesome consistently, nonstop. Realizing when to pause can be difficult. Knowing when you're just not going to be productive anymore can be hard to recognize sometimes.

I feel like the land, dehydrated and longing for a good nourishing rain. The rains will come inevitably, right now it's a matter of digging deep with these roots to tap into the moist soil far below me.

I pulled the Page of Cups this morning. She's descended to the bottom of the ocean, alone. She uses her intuition to guide herself and she finds answers in the scrying bowl. My need for the element of water is apparent in this card. I think a good spiritual bath is in order, a bath at dusk to remove and a bath as the sun rises to bring in that which I desire.

Hermes & Violet Thoughts.

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My gym time is one of the ways I do devotional activities for Hermes. What's this got to do with violets? I'll get there, don't worry. Hermes holds a very special place in my heart. He's a jovial guy and many of his attributes are things that hold a prominent place in my life. I'm a business owner, a ram, I hit the gym on a regular basis and I aim to improve my writing and communications abilities. I dream very vividly and have a fondness for birds and often look to them for omens. He's also just a bad ass. I love reading about him in myth, he just comes across as the kinda guy you could have a beer and totally chill with. Or you know, get up to some mischief.

So, violets right? I make a point to focus on Hermes during my workouts. I give him my sweat, my pumping heart, my exertion, my focus. I make a point to commune with him. Violets dropped into my brain out of nowhere a few weeks ago. I walked home and the phantom scent of violets hit me over and over again, it's not even violet season mind you! Today, mid oblique crunch, there it is again. Violets. "Alright," I say to myself, "time for some google action." What's the first thing I see, after googling 'Hermes violets'?

photo by, Married with Dinner.

photo by, Married with Dinner.

Oh, snap. Indeed. Hermes very obviously wants his violets. This brand unfortunately is basically impossible to get in the US, unless I'm willing to hop on a plane straight to Japan! While I do hope to someday get my hands on this lovely jewel of a liqueur, I think I will settle for some Tempus Fugit Liqueur De Violettes. Or, make my own, which I have plans for come spring of next year.

I was really surprised by this. Violets aren't exactly mercurial, they're connected to the planet Venus, the element of water and love. Aphrodite was often referred to as violet-crowned. The sweetly scented flowers are calming and gentle and make me think of softening the woes of love, inducing lust, bringing lovers back together after a spat and tranquility. All sorts of ideas began bubbling into my head. Clearly, violets will make a great offering to Hermes in my personal practice, but this experience has brought me closer to a plant I had never really considered working with before. I actually encountered the wild violet this spring, for the first time. I had thought nothing of it, really. Just that they were the harbingers of spring. The first flower to pop up, they herald new beginnings.

I found this small wild patch at the end of my street last spring. I think I might transplant a few to the yard. And maybe even buy a few plants as they come available on websites this fall. Specifically the sweet violet - viola odorata, as this is the one with the sweet scent and flavor.

All sorts of wild crafty ideas are flying through my head currently. A violet water, similar to a Florida Water recipe. I imagine the color would just be fantastic. Violet liqueur, obviously. Cakes. Preserving the flowers in sugar. Perhaps even scenting the sugar, by placing lots of the fresh blooms in a jar, I wonder how that would work out. I suppose I'll have to find out next spring, these delicate little flowers are only around once a year. I look forward to getting to know this plant a little better come spring.

 

 

Tiniest Skull & Bushtit Chatter.

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A few weeks ago I found the tiny mangled body of a bird outside of our stoop. I imagine a cat must have gotten it, or it died of natural causes. I picked it up and placed it between my althaea and mugwort plants. Today, while examining my mugwort for upcoming full moon cutting, I noticed the little birds body was still there. I was surprised it didn't disappear by scavenging racoons and neighborhood cats that prowl our yard. It's little skull was sticking up neatly out of the dirt, well cleaned by nature.

This tiny skull belongs to the bushtit. It's the smallest bird in North America by weight, right next to the hummingbird. His little skull is smaller than the tip of my finger joint! I feel pretty lucky to have such a curio.

Birds hold a very special place in my heart, thanks to my wonderful grandmother who subscribed me to Birds and Blooms when I was about 10 years old. This imbedded in me a deep love of bird watching. Anytime I heard a call or saw a bird I couldn't recognize, I'd go on a hunt for information to learn all I could about its range and habits. I wanted so badly to see Cedar Waxwings when I was young, it wasn't until I was crossing a bridge in Iowa City, Iowa at age 22 that I suddenly realized I was surrounded by a huge flock of them! And I saw them for the first time in my life. If you ask my partner, I was ridiculously excited. Pretty sure bystanders thought I was crazy.

Depending on the species, birds are messengers, tricksters, symbols of purity and love. Bushtits to me, are the embodiment of joy, thriftiness, tranquility and a cohesive family. They often travel in large groups tree to tree combing for insects. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll encounter a massive flock of them while walking through the forest. One moment it'll be quiet, and the next you'll be surrounded by what feel like millions of the tiniest fluff balls. No matter when or where you spot them, they are merrily chirping away paying no mind to who's watching them. If you're still enough, they will let you get remarkably close to them while they're foraging. They have the brightest eyes and most content and happy expression.

Birding adventures are a constant. My current hope, is to find out who it is that makes this eerie trilling sound deep in the forests. I hear this call only in summer and I've never seen the culprit. With some binoculars and luck, maybe I'll find out.

Other birdy goodness: The Secret Bird Society by Candlesmoke Chapel.