by Ellen Dugan
As I finish up this book, I’m looking back at everything my home, family, and gardens have experienced over the last calendar year. And in this past year, I have experienced change to both my home and my garden in very dramatic ways.
A Life Lesson from Mother Nature
In nature there are unexpected storms;
in life there are unpredictable changes.
chinese proverb
The summer of 2006 and the winter of 2007 were particularly tough on my home and gardens. It began with tornadoes in July 2006 that ripped our sixty-year-old trees apart. The storm winds tore off gutters, shingles, and sections of the garage roof. Eighty-mile-an-hour storm winds caused large tree limbs to snap and fall, punching holes in the roof and mashing established perennial beds full of magickal plants, herbs, and flowers.
So did I stand there and ring my hands and cry during the storm? No, I did not. Did I indulge in some squealing? I’ll admit to that. When the storm hit, it was unlike any other storm I’ve seen. A roll cloud came through, and the wind picked up in an instant. There wasn’t even time to think hmmm, this looks nasty. All of a sudden it was here.
My son Kyle and I were standing in the kitchen, as those windows face northwest, and we watched the storm come in. We knew there was a severe thunderstorm predicted, but in the Midwest that’s not unusual. Where I live, everyone just says, “Oh, another storm. Well, I’ll just go look outside and see how bad it is.”
Suddenly it hit, fast and furious. This was no typical summer thunderstorm. I wanted to get both of us away from the kitchen windows and take cover in the hallway, since we don’t have a basement. Of course, Kyle wouldn’t budge. He was looking out the kitchen windows and yelling “Awesome!” as the neighborhood trees started to snap.
I grabbed him and tried to drag him into the hallway. As he is a buff six foot two inches tall, that was not easy to do. When one of our big elm trees snapped and then hit the house, he stopped arguing and then instead grabbed me to get in the hallway. I squealed like a little girl—I had no idea how loud of a boom that a tree makes when it falls on your house. Even my son was shouting.
Items began to fall off the shelves, and the pictures were rattling on the walls. It was a wild couple of minutes. Then, as quickly as it began, it passed. The thunder continued, but the meanness of the storm was over. We carefully went back into the kitchen to peer out the windows, and all we could see were downed electrical wires and leaf-covered tree branches against the windows.
After a bit of time, we cautiously went to the back door and looked out to discover the extent of the damage. I grabbed my cell phone and called my other son, who lives on his own, to make sure he was okay and ask him to bring us some ice. I knew we would be without power for days. In the twenty-plus years we had lived here, this was the worse storm damage ever. Then I called my husband, who was on an outing with my daughter, and left him a message to call me and then to come back home. Once the storm passed, I called my insurance company, reported the damage, and called the electric company and reported the downed wires—they got ripped right out of the side of the house. Kyle and I took pictures for the insurance people and then called my parents and asked them to bring over their chain saw.
Within an hour, we had begun the cleanup process. It took about a month to wait our turn to have the gutters and the roof repaired. I had most of the trees trimmed up to save them, but one had to come down. The shady perennial bed was mashed beyond repair, so I cut back the broken foliage and took it in stride. It would always bloom again the following year.
Six months later, in January of 2007, we got hit with a major ice storm. This storm was described as “catastrophic.” The weight of the thick ice pulled down even more tree limbs, and those limbs tore down power lines all over the neighborhood. I did magick all night long to keep the family safe. No one slept. We heard the transformers on the utility poles blowing up all night long. They lit up the sky in weird colors of blue and green. Not to mention the sound of tree branches cracking, then the rush of ice as they fell and the occasional boom as they hit the house or somewhere close by. With no power, you could not see outside. It was a very long night punctuated by the sounds of explosions or trees falling down. Fire trucks and the police were everywhere, trying to put out fires and to make sure people were not hurt. Our neighborhood sounded like a war zone.
This ice storm decimated most of the large trees in the area and snapped off huge sections from the trees in our yard, which had fallen on top of the house and punched holes in our roof again. This time we lost power for five days—which is a long damn time to be without power in frigid temperatures.
We knew we were in trouble the following morning when the sun came up, and we saw the damage for ourselves. You could not go out and look, you could only safely peer out the windows. It was too dangerous to poke around in the yard as ice-covered limbs were still falling. Later in the morning, we heard a rumble and looked out the living-room windows to see troops of National Guard soldiers walking down our street in their camouflage. They cleared out downed trees and ice-covered limbs as they worked their way down the street.
It was surreal to see soldiers and a Humvee rolling down our block. But Goddess bless them, the guardsmen went to every house and checked on people and handed out flyers for warming shelters and other emergency information. I won’t even mention the CNN national news van or the local news. My mind basically snapped to survival mode once I saw the soldiers.
That afternoon, my husband climbed up on the ice-covered roof, much to my dismay, to cover the holes in the roof with waterproof tarps. He was up there with a battery-operated drill, a pocket full of large screws, a few two-by-fours, and ropes. We tied off the edges of the tarps to bricks and large branches on the ground to keep the tarp down so it would not flap in the wind. It’s amazing what you can do when you have to. We cleaned up the tree debris in the yard ourselves to save money, and my husband had covered up the roof so well that the insurance company gave us a break on our deductible. Having our neighborhood declared a disaster area by the governor didn’t hurt, either.
We had thought that the tornado damage was bad. By the time the ice melted and people began the cleanup, there were more branches down on the ground then left up in the trees. Besides the roof damage, our shed in the backyard was completely mashed, our privacy fence was damaged, and the patio furniture was in pieces. We ended up with so much damage to the house that the local paper interviewed us, and we ended up on the front page. It was a real adventure.
After making the repairs to the roof (they ripped half of the roof off to the rafters and rebuilt it) and cleaning up the damage to the yard each time, the landscape and layout of my garden took a striking turn. Gone were two of my largest trees, one lost to the tornado and yet another to that horrific winter ice storm. What was at one time a mysterious shade garden was now laid bare and exposed to bright sunshine.
On Imbolc day in 2007, three weeks after the ice storm, I walked out in the backyard to regard the area where the big old maple tree had been cut down the day before. Even though I knew it was going to make a huge difference in the yard’s landscape, I was still shocked to realize just how dramatic of a change it was. All of those shady perennials, which were at the moment safely sleeping away the winter underground, were going to have to be dug up and moved come spring. My well-ordered and established beds were a wreck, and I knew I had massive amounts of work to do, both to heal the land and to reclaim our gardens.
But with all the change laid out before me and the realization of months of hard work ahead, a little seed of hope began to sprout in me. What better chance to dig a little deeper and to personally explore the wonders of the magick of herbalism and of the garden? That spring, we tore down the flattened shed and rebuilt a better one in a different location in the backyard. This gave us the opportunity to expand one of the patios, and it made the garden look much more o
pen. I transplanted all my shady perennials, which took about a week’s worth of hard work, and started over. We left the bed open where the maple tree had stood. We did amend the soil and plant a few annuals, but I watched it to see how much sunshine it would receive—it got a ton. So, since we had so much money tied up in landscaping and rebuilding the fence and the shed, I filled the space full of pots and containers and plotted the reestablishing of my enchanted garden for the following year.
Some of the magickal shady plants didn’t survive. A few of my foxgloves didn’t make it. My lady’s mantle, columbine, ferns, and sweet woodruff were all transplanted into what I figured would be shade but turned out to be sun. Oops. Well, come August, they and my hostas had taken a beating. So I watered, tried to keep them alive, and watched the sun and shade patterns. I kept notes all summer and fall and then considered my options. In a moment of dark humor, I said to my husband as we realized we had yet again more transplanting to do, “A lot of good perennials died this summer … I wonder how many didn’t have to.”
Garden Challenges and Starting Over
To make a great garden,
one must have a great idea or a great opportunity.
sir george sitwell
Now, as I sit in my office, it’s late January, a year later. Imbolc is coming in a week, and in my mind (and on paper) I have been working out where all those shady perennials will be moved to for the second time. As for that spot where the maple used to be, it is going to be planted full of sun-loving magickal herbs and perennials: monarda, coneflowers, butterfly bush, tall phlox, roses, yarrow, and lavender. So not only will it be a reclaimed and lovely spot again, it will also pull in butterflies and birds, and hopefully the faeries will return. With all the hoopla of rebuilding, transplanting, and salvaging what we could in the garden, we didn’t notice that tingle or tug that let us know they were there. But after a few group sabbat rituals were performed out in the garden area and patio this autumn, I knew we would get them to return. I learned quite a bit about the garden and green magick while we rebuilt the backyard. Now, if I go outside in the back, I can feel that sense of expectancy. Spring is on the way, and the garden is waiting to be rebuilt.
All I have to do is wait until spring, and then I’m diving in. I will replant, nurture, create, and bless a brand-new magickal garden. While it won’t be the mysteriously magickal and shady haven it once was, it will be bright, open, fragrant, and full of enchanting possibilities.
So yes, as a magickal herbalist, a Witch, and a Green Magician, you will face challenges, both in how and where you practice. However, it shows who you truly are when you can make it work despite what is going on around you—or when you can turn a garden misfortune into a gardening triumph.
Closing Thoughts
Nature has her own best mode of doing each thing,
and she has somewhere told it plainly, if we will keep our eyes and ears open. If not, she will not be slow in undeceiving us, when we prefer our own way to hers.
ralph waldo emerson
By exploring this particular path of magick and by listening to our own hearts, we gain a deep and meaningful sense of connection to nature and to the spirit world. This sense of reverence is but a tool and another magickal lesson to be learned. As we acknowledge the magickal forces and energies of nature while working with the green world, this puts us on a less-traveled route. However, it does offer the seeker a quiet sense of rightness and belonging. When we enter the wild places, looking for magick, we work hand-in-hand with nature.
So sit, pray, and practice your craft in your own sacred outdoor area, wherever it may be. Perhaps it will be in a sunny southwestern garden surrounded by succulents and bright herbs and wildflowers. Maybe that will be in your own backyard, surrounded by a witchy cottage-style garden of herbs, vegetables, and flowers. Perchance you are a clever urban Witch and have created a little oasis on the deck with hanging baskets and container gardens. Perhaps you go to the meadows, the woodlands, the mountains, or the beach to gain your sense of connection. No matter where you draw strength from the natural world, you must cultivate your relationship with nature and within your own magickal gardens.
Both green magick and herb magick are creative, physical activities. The longer you tend to and work in your enchanted gardens, the more you will notice that your use of the garden as a sacred space has indeed evolved, for the same divinity that is present in nature begins to transform you, too. Over the seasons and as you gain more experience, you will bloom into a more centered and spiritual magickal practitioner.
Individuals who honor the powers of nature, green magick, and the traditional ways of the wise woman and the cunning men gain a connection to the magickal world that is amazingly personal. Whether you are part of a large Pagan community or are all on your own, no matter if you work in a traditional coven, an open eclectic circle, or prefer to be a solitary, as a Green Practitioner (or Green Witch, if you prefer), you are truly never alone. Here, in the green world of the gardens, groves, wild places, hedgerows, forests, and woodlands, you are joined by the spirits of the wise ones throughout time.
The magick of the green world is waiting for you. Will you answer the call?
[contents]
Glossary
Strive to realize your kinship with all life on Earth by discovering more about the processes going on unnoticed in your garden.
maureen gilmer, the gardener’s way
Alkaloid: A nitrogen-based compound contained in a plant, usually capable of having a powerful effect on bodily systems such as painkilling or poisoning.
Allergen: A substance that causes an allergic reaction.
Amulet: A type of herbal charm, ornament, or jewel that aids and protects its wearer.
Annual: A plant that completes its life cycle in one growing season.
Autumn Equinox: A Pagan/Wiccan sabbat also known as Mabon. This festival is celebrated on the autumnal equinox, which falls on or around September 21. This is called the Witches’ Thanksgiving. It is the second of three harvest festivals and the forerunner of the “harvest home” celebrations.
Baneful herb: A toxic herb. A poisonous herb or plant that causes death if ingested.
Beltane: A greater sabbat celebrated by Wiccans and Pagans. Beltane begins at sundown on April 30. May Day, or Beltane Day, is May 1. This sabbat is considered the union of the God and Goddess. It is celebrated as a time of fertility, frivolity, and sexuality. Faerie magick is popular at Beltane, as it is also a time when the veil between our world and the world of faerie is thin, and anything can happen. Wreaths, baskets of flowers, and the Maypole are all part of the celebration.
Biennial: A plant that grows vegetatively the first year and then is fruiting/blooming or dormant the second year. Foxglove, hollyhocks, and Queen Anne’s lace are prime examples of this type of plant.
Bract: A modified or specialized leaf. They are usually smaller in size than the foliage leaves, or a different color or texture from the plant’s green foliage. Bracts may be brightly colored as compared to the foliage of the plant; good examples of a brightly colored bract are the Scarlet Indian paintbrush and the poinsettia.
Cassiel: The archangel of Saturn. His sacred flower is the snowdrop, and his day of the week is Saturday. He governs good luck, temperance, and creativity.
Chaplet: A crown of flowers, herbs, and greenery that is worn on the head.
Charm: A rhyming series of words (a simple spell) used for specific magickal purposes.
Charm bag: Similar to a sachet, a charm bag is a small cloth bag filled with aromatic herbs, charged crystals, and other magickal ingredients. Charm bags may be carried for any magickal purpose: health, safe travel, protection, to increase your confidence, and so on.
Craft, the: The Witches’ name for the old religion and practice of Witchcraft.
Cultivar: A cultivar is a variant of a plan
t that has particular characteristics such as a leaf or flower variation. This new variant is developed and maintained under cultivation. The name of the cultivar is printed in Roman type, within single quotation marks, and is capitalized. An example would be this popular and hearty variety of lavender: Lavandula x angustifiolia ‘Munstead’. Munstead is the name of the cultivar.
Cunning Man: An old term, traditionally meaning a male practitioner of magick and natural or holistic healing.
Deciduous: A tree or shrub that loses its leaves annually in the autumn. The plants go dormant during the winter months and regrow their foliage the following spring.
Dioecious: A plant that produces male and female flowers on different plants. There are male and female versions of these plants. Examples would be holly, bittersweet, and the yew tree.
Drupe: A fleshy fruit with one or more seeds enclosed in a stony casing.
Dryad: A tree spirit, usually associated with one tree.
Elementals: Nature spirits, or energies, that coordinate with each element. Earth elementals are brownies and gnomes. Air elementals are faeries and sylphs. Fire elementals are dragons, drakes, and djinns. Finally, water elementals are undines and sirens.
Elements: The four classic natural elements are earth, air, fire and water. These are the components of reality; without any one of these natural elements, human life would not be possible on our planet.
Enchant: The classic definition is “to sing to.” To enchant something means that you load, or charge, an object with your personal power and positive intention.
Enchantment: A spell, an act of magick. This word is often used interchangeably for the word spell.
