a witch's brew
Feb. 3rd, 2008 11:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
athenagreyThe Witch stood in front of her herb cupboard, thoughtfully opening this tin and that jar, inhaling the fragrant dried leaves within. Nodding gently to herself, she selects a pinch of this and a dash of that, until she holds in the palm of her hand a small saucer of fragrant, colorful and potent herbs. She cups her right hand over the top and whispers an invocation as the energy flows between her hands.
A low sound rises in the otherwise silent room, growing more insistent, filling the room.
She ends her chant, and drops the herbs into the pot.
She turns and silences the screaming kettle, pours out the water, and prepares a hot and fragrant tisane, a nice pot of herbal tea.
I have always been fascinated by the image of the witch as herbalist. I'm just not fond of the foul tasting brews that make up the formulary of the traditional herbalist. Surely there must be some magick in the things that taste good, like rooibos, orange peel, and cornflowers?
I come from a line of tea-drinking women, confident ones who believed in the ritual of wetting the tea leaves and unleashing wisdom and comfort. Gram had a massive kettle on the back burner, big enough to make tea for the whole village, a small army, and all her children and grandchildren. Mom said that during The War (yes, always spoken with capital letters like that), they had to re-use their tea leaves and make do with evaporated milk in cans, but tea was what kept them going. From early childhood, I remember listening to my mother's quiet sip-sip-sip and smelling the comforting fragrance of her tea.
The next rainy day, I shall sit down with a steaming pot of tisane, some catalogs, and my magickal herbal. I am sure that many of the things we drink for pleasure can be consumed mindfully and with the benefit of magick.
A low sound rises in the otherwise silent room, growing more insistent, filling the room.
She ends her chant, and drops the herbs into the pot.
She turns and silences the screaming kettle, pours out the water, and prepares a hot and fragrant tisane, a nice pot of herbal tea.
I have always been fascinated by the image of the witch as herbalist. I'm just not fond of the foul tasting brews that make up the formulary of the traditional herbalist. Surely there must be some magick in the things that taste good, like rooibos, orange peel, and cornflowers?
I come from a line of tea-drinking women, confident ones who believed in the ritual of wetting the tea leaves and unleashing wisdom and comfort. Gram had a massive kettle on the back burner, big enough to make tea for the whole village, a small army, and all her children and grandchildren. Mom said that during The War (yes, always spoken with capital letters like that), they had to re-use their tea leaves and make do with evaporated milk in cans, but tea was what kept them going. From early childhood, I remember listening to my mother's quiet sip-sip-sip and smelling the comforting fragrance of her tea.
The next rainy day, I shall sit down with a steaming pot of tisane, some catalogs, and my magickal herbal. I am sure that many of the things we drink for pleasure can be consumed mindfully and with the benefit of magick.
