A Witch’s Garden
May 24, 2025 • No Comments
This is one of those topics that comes with caveats because, I am sure, a witch’s garden is whatever the witch wants it to be. Gardens are reflective of their caretaker’s personalities and therefore as unique as each individual and purpose. And, as with a witch’s cat, a witch’s garden (any garden, really) will have its own agenda.
The Basics
That said, there will be guiding principles. In traditional folklore, witches lived in an agrarian setting, either as part of a community or adjacent to it. It stands to reason that, whatever else the witch was up to, they most likely planted a kitchen garden: herbs, vegetables and, if they were fortunate, a few fruit trees. There were likely some pretty flowers to attract pollinators and ensure a fruitful harvest.
Does that sound disappointingly mundane? It shouldn’t. Just because plants are well-known to us, don’t assume they are without enchantment. Apples have long association with myth and magic—from Snow White to Avalon, they are the go-to item in the fairy tale produce aisle. Helen of Troy might have been the face that launched a thousand ships, but it was the prize of a golden apple that started it all.
Sadly, I’m short of heroic legends featuring kale.
Medicinal Gardens
It’s fairly well-established that historically witches tended to be older single women with opinions and, more notably, land and fortunes the male elders felt would be better off in other hands. Say, their hands. As part of the property transfer process, these troublesome females were accused of concocting poisons, curses, and spells. Noxious herbs were prominently featured.
A knowledge of healing herbs was part of any housewife’s toolkit. They would be grown or gathered in season and preserved for future uses. What those herbs were varied depending on local practice, but a few are easily identified. Eyebright, for instance, is easy to use for making an eyewash effective for seasonal allergies. Heart’s ease, also known as wild pansy, has been used since the Middle Ages for cardiovascular and autoimmune issues. These plants were used so widely they were named for their healing properties.
Danger Gardens
What can cure, can kill. Plants are at the front of this line. An easy example is digitalis, or foxglove. While it’s the basis of an effective medication, it features in dozens of mystery novels as the heart-attack-inducing herbal slipped into a victim’s tea. Similarly, the right kind of eucalyptus infused in honey is a great cough syrup. The wrong kind is only good for koala bears. Even common culinary herbs, like thyme, can have adverse health effects in the wrong doses.
This is the territory of the Hollywood witch’s garden. Or, in more of a real-life setting, the Alnwick Poison Garden. On the surface, it might look fairly ordinary—mandrake is highly poisonous, but is just another bushy green thing to the untrained eye. Whether a curse or a cure, who needs magic when botany can do the heavy lifting?
To understand how to prepare and deploy the garden residents is the practitioner’s true power. A well-tended plant is very willing to show just how capable it can be. It’s only sensible to be cautious and very, very polite to whatever witches, fairies, or other garden keepers are about.
Magic Gardens
While gardens can feed, cure, or kill us, is there room for a magical element that would set a witch’s garden apart? Yes, I’m sure there is. I’ve been to gardens that felt special in a way that’s impossible to describe. I was taught as a child to leave a corner of the garden wild for the nature spirits, so maybe that makes the difference. The best words I have for those gardens with a little extra is harmony. They’re functioning as an energetic whole instead of a collection of manicured parts.
The witches in my books don’t always have gardens like the Carvers in the Dark Forgotten series do—some do live in apartments—but they do have an understanding of the energies that guide the botanical world. Healing is about restoring nature’s design. Evil is disrupting it. Vampires are in some ways outside nature—they have stepped beyond the norm into a kind of suspended state.
What kind of gardens would vampires have? I found this post from the National Garden Bureau on goth gardens. I’m enchanted by the blenderized concoction of yogurt and moss that can be painted onto objects to encourage insta-mossy hardscaping.
Hungary Water: Part 2
March 21, 2022 • 3 Comments
This is the continuation of this 
blog describing the recipe and my first try at recreating Hungary Water. I left the test batches to steep for about three months. I waited some months more to let the scents settle down and blend.
My first observation is that volume is important. By the time I strained the vegetable matter from my test batches, I didn’t get much yield—maybe half a cup per jar. The results were also very concentrated. When I do this again, I’m going to use at least a quart-sized container and more liquid.
The rosemary scent dominates the results, but that could be because it was the one element that was home grown and therefore freshest. All three bases initially overpowered the scent of the herbs but calmed down with time. The witch hazel version was fairly raunchy when it first brewed but is now the most pleasant of the three. It is a nice addition to a bath and as a facial astringent. I used the cider vinegar version (diluted) to rinse my hair after shampooing it. This is an excellent way to add scent and shine, but please be careful with color-treated hair as the vinegar can be drying. The vodka version was my least favorite. It killed some stubborn weeds in the driveway and probably any other living entity within five yards. I’m pretty sure the driveway glows after dark and the raccoons are building a bomb shelter.
My honest assessment is that a) a greater liquid volume would create a better balance of scents, b) the combination of herbs could possibly be simplified, and c) I need to do more research into a good liquid base for this purpose. The witch hazel is acceptable, but I’d like to keep exploring.
Bottom line: this experiment opened the door to some interesting possibilities for more research and experimentation.
Pesto!
February 20, 2022 • 1 Comment
As a follow up to our previous post about basil, here is my favorite pesto recipe. Substitutions are easy–if pine nuts are too expensive, walnuts, toasted pumpkin seeds, or
any combo of the three can be used. If basil is not in season, I’ve used spinach or a blend of spinach and arugula for a punchier sauce.
Put into blender or food processor:
- 4 cups of basil or other greens (such as spinach, parsley, arugula and/or other fresh herbs)
- Crushed fresh garlic (3 cloves) or good-quality powdered garlic to taste
- Half cup pine nuts or other nut/seed combo
- Scant cup of grated parmesan cheese
- Dash of lemon juice
Blend the above until smooth, adding olive oil to thin to the desired consistency (about 1/3 to 1/2 cup).
Pesto literally means “paste” and can be treated like any other condiment. It’s brilliant on pasta, but can also be combined with yogurt to make a great salad dressing. I also use it as a flavoring in wraps and sandwiches or as a veggie dip.
Love, Hate, and Severed Heads – the Secret Life of Basil
• 2 Comments
Many herbs have stories, and basil has more than most. The name derives from the Greek basileus, which means kingly or royal. Associated with love potions, angry monsters, and tales of romantic tragedy (and decapitation), basil’s legend goes far beyond pesto.
Basil is associated with the masculine, Mars, fire, and Scorpio. It is a culinary herb and also a strewing herb, valued for its scent. As an inhalant, it stimulates the intellect. As an incense, it invokes the presence of astral and mythological creatures and gives strength to pursue positive expansion, releasing fear associated with spiritual growth. Traditional health uses vary. It is used in folk medicine to treat fevers, and there is some investigation being done on treatment for herpes-related conditions like shingles.
Basil is used cosmetically for brightening the complexion. Sweet basil oil (Ocimum basilicum) is used in perfumes and also in a scalp massage to stimulate healthy hair growth.
According to the Ancient World—or at least the Greco-Roman segment thereof—basil was associated with anger and insanity. Perhaps this comes from its association with scorpions, salamanders, and also the basilisk, a dragon-esque creature that could kill with a glare. Given all the cranky crawlies, it’s a good thing basil was reputed to draw the poison from venomous bites.
It’s hard to say when the humble herb moved from angry lizards to love potions, but by the Middle Ages a sprig of basil became a love token and a means of attracting wealth. It was also said to have grown at the site of Christ’s crucifixion—further evidence of its ability to repel evil—and in some regions was planted on graves. In India, holy basil (Tulsi) is used for purification and protection.
Basil’s twin spirits of love and hate twine together in Giovanni Boccaccio’s Decameron, a 14th Century collection of Italian tales. Many know the story from John Keats’s 
1818 poem retelling the story. In a nutshell (or herb pot), lovely young Isabella is destined for an advantageous marriage but falls in love with a handsome servant named Lorenzo. Furious, her brothers murder the young man. Guided by the ghost of her dead lover, Isabella digs up his body, chops off his head, and buries it in a pot of basil. There, she can water it with her tears and waste away in fine tragic fashion.
For such a grim tale, it inspired a wealth of lovely pre-Raphaelite art, like this painting by William Holman Hunt.
Common garden basil is native to India and flowers in high summer. I’ve never found basil easy to grow indoors. It loves heat, but not too much; rich soil, but not too much richness; and exactly the right amount of water. A bright windowsill is good, but be careful not to introduce other plants nearby. I had a thriving pot of globe basil until I left a planter of cat grass beside it just long enough to deposit a swarm of pesto-loving aphids. The best home-grown basil I ever saw lived in a compost box beneath a tent of plastic that kept the cold dew off the leaves. There, the plants grew to a Jurassic size I’ve never been able to replicate.
Check this blog for my pesto recipe.
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: herbal medicines should be prepared and taken under the supervision of a trained professional (and that does not include me or this blog).
References:
I consulted quite a few sources for this blog, but here are the main ones:
Easley, Thomas, and Steven Horne. The Modern Herbal Dispensatory. Berkeley, California: North Atlantic Books, 2016.
Beyerl, Paul. The Master Book of Herbalism. Blaine, Washington: Phoenix Publishing Inc., 1984.
Grieve, Mrs. M. A Modern Herbal. London: Tiger Books International, 1992.
Cunningham, Scott. Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs, 2nd edition. Woodbury, Minnesota Llewellyn Publications, 2020.
Rose, Jeanne The Aromatherapy Book: Applications & Inhalations Berkeley, California, 1992