Vegetable Soup: A Bit of Kitchen Witchery

Life with two toddlers is hard.  I go to bed exhausted at the end of the day and climb out of bed still tired.  It just doesn't seem fair that these little people get so much more energy than we do!  Often, I feel like a lackluster witch.  By the end of the day, I just have no energy left for magic.  Then I remember that the magic doesn't make me, I make the magic.  Anything I do can be magic.  And one thing I do a lot of this time of year make soup. 

Soup is not just the perfect cold weather food, it is the perfect busy mommy food.  It requires the use of just four utensils: a cutting board, a knife, a pot, and a spoon.  It is prepared ahead of time i.e. while the kids nap so there is no end of day rush.  It can be a great way to use up odds and ends in the produce bin before grocery day.  And for me atleast it comes with an amazing sense of accomplishment. 

Best of all soup is really delicious, nutritious magic!  Any time there is a  big cauldron bubbling on the stove there is magic in the air.  Superman comes home on soup days swearing he could smell his witch's kitchen for an entire block! So I love soup!  I think that fact is well established, lets get to the making of this magic.

A my house, there is no recipe for soup. Just like a spell, soup is full of love and intent.  It is really more art than science.  That said, I do have three rules for soup.

1. Start with onions and garlic, plenty of both.   
2. Clarify the pan with alcohol, drink a little too if you're not pregnant.
3. Salt is your friend, use it liberally. 

How I make my soup:

I start by heating up my largest pan over medium heat with a splash of oil in the bottom.  When the oil is hot, I add a whole diced onion and at least two cloves of garlic.  This is like prepping the canvas. 

While the onion softens, I start dicing a whole mountain of vegetables.   Starting with the root vegetables that take longer to cook. The goal is to fill my pot halfway line.  Everything gets tossed in the pot with a good stir as it comes off the cutting board.  Just about anything that grows in the garden is subject to my soup pot.  Zucchini, celery, kale, and dried tomatoes are some of my favorites.  While I dice, I focus on the love and care I feel for my family and the strength they will gain from eating my concoction.  Since my hands are all over the vegetables at this stage, it is the perfect time to charge them!  If you're feeling creative now is the time to add some herbs. Go with flavors you know work elsewhere and be generous. 

Once everything is in the pot, I look at it with a painters eye and ask myself if anything is missing.  If it is looking at bit too beige, I add some more tomatoes or carrots.  If it seems to heavy, I add corn or peas for a hint of brightness.  Ha!  Imagine reading these instructions in a cookbook!  When the veggies feel balanced, add salt and cover them with the lid to cook slowly for 30-45 minutes, stirring frequently.  This is a great time to clean the kitchen. 

Now it's time to break open the bottle! White or red wine are probably the acceptable choices, but I have been known to use Wild Turkey very successfully.   Clarifying the pan with the alcohol of your choice helps create a very light and lively broth.  To me, this step is the blessing of the vegetables.  So, pour at least a serving of spirits in the pan and listen to it sizzle happily while the aroma rolls around the kitchen.  Let the alcohol stew directly into the vegetable for a few minutes before adding fresh water to fill the pan.  I consider full to be about two inches below the lip.  At this point I will add 1/2 cup of raw grain and possibly some precooked, mashed squash.  Replace lid and turn heat to simmer. 

Now, go enjoy your afternoon.  Take the kids out to play, sit down with glass of wine, call a friend... Super is well on the way to being ready and you have the evening handled like a boss.  In about an hour, peek at your soup and give it a taste.  There is a good chance you'll need to add more salt.  After three hours or so, your soup is ready and your house smells amazing.  I always think of the aroma as my magic diffusing to all corners of our home.  If it's not quite supper time, turn the heat to low.  Super will be hot and ready when the time comes. 

Wild Woman Hair: Six Month Dread Update

Sometimes, it's hard to believe how long I've already been on this road.  It's been six months since I set my baby dreads and they have been such an up and down experience.  It seems like they can go from looking like a horrendous mess one day to tightening up over night and suddenly looking pretty fantastic the next day.  Since I washed and dried yesterday afternoon and separated this morning, I felt it was a good time to do a few selfies and update.  Let's just over look the blurry eyes.  It's been a hectic week. 

With my hair is still growing faster than my dreads are shrinking, I have far more open end than dread right now.  Also, it is a bit of a motley crew of dread styles.  Like I said before, I started out with twist and rip dreads in February, but now have a few back combed dreads in stubborn areas that didn't want to hold a dread and several free form dreads in the back where dreads fell out and I just didn't get around to putting them back in.  I am kind of partial to those extra messy little guys, too. I am still washing only with Dr. Bronners and a combination of baking soda, peroxide, and vinegar.  With one exception.  I have learned to put a few drops of essential oil into my soap every few weeks when the frizzies start building up. At this point, I still want my hair to be dry to help form the locs, but there really is such a thing as too dry.    

 

 

Here I am!  All put together for the day, wearing my favorite cardigan and scarf.  The cardigan is vintage Liz Claiborne circa 1980's.  I picked it up at a church thrift shop for fifty cents.  Whoot! Whoot!  I am really happy with my look.  I find that there is almost a spell like quality to my dreads that gives me a great boost of confidence in who I am.  The funny thing is, Superman's new co-workers are picking me out of a crowd in an instant.  They know I'm a witch from talking with him and I guess I just look witchy these days.  To sum it up.  I feel completely me and I feel like a BOSS!

 

Good morning, Mr. Magpie

I was only four or five years old the first time a magpie was pointed out to me.  Staring at those cobalt blue wings gleam in the Montana sunshine, all I could do was wonder at its beauty.   When I opened my pint sized mouth and commented in admiration, I was instantly shut down.  Magpies were "bad" birds.  (According to cattlemen, magpies are the scourge of the range preferable only to coyotes.  Because they will occasionally nibble a raw brand or preen the back of a cow so intently as to cause abrasions, most ranchers will shoot at every magpie they see.)  Feeling shamed to admire such a creature, I turned away from this bird who had instantly intrigued me and over the years nearly forgot about them.

Illustration by National Geographic
http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/birding/black-billed-magpie/

Recently, when we moved to Bozeman, I once again fell in love with magpies.  In our new neighborhood, magpies are as plentiful as children which is saying a lot.  People here still grumble and call them "dirty," but I no longer care.  The magpies are my friends.  Superman and I both make a point to speak to them on a regular basis and Miss Busy loves to yell "pie-pie" as she tries to coax them in for a closer inspection.  We have also had many hours of entertainment watching through the living room window as they play, fight, steal, and gather material to build their rather messy nests.

This past month, I have begin noticing that the magpies seem to pay a lot more attention to my porch than to those of the neighbors.  They pluck drying garment from my rail, uproot small plants, leave perfect beak shaped bite marks in my mother-in-laws tongue, and rearrange the decorations on my table.  At first, I chalked it up to knowing that they were safe in my space, but then they started leaving gifts. 

One night about a week ago, I heard a clattering out on the porch.  Considering it was a rather stormy night, I shrugged my shoulders and blamed it on the wind tossing around my mop bucket.  The next morning, I found a resin skull that usually sits on the table thrown back against the rail in the opposite direct that the wind would have moved it.  In the space usually occupied by the skull were two small rocks confirming who the culprit(s) had been.  Then a few days later, I went out in the morning to find a perfect magpie feather sitting in front of my garden shoes. 

As a result of all these goings on, I have made it a point to learn more about magpies.  The more I learn, the more fascinating they become.  In this past week, I have learned: magpies have a long association with witches and the occult, are known to hold "wakes" for fallen comrades, and that a magpie is the only non-mammal who can recognize themselves in a mirror.   They are also resourceful, attracted to human company on their own terms, and take on long term projects. 

From a magickal standpoint, magpies often symbolize a person who could experience more if they would only trust their limited occultic knowledge and the possibility of learning and/or experiencing the supernatural in a less than conventional manner. Folk lore also teaches that witches can turn into magpies, that's one bit of knowledge I'd like to gain.  As with most magickal symbolism, there is also a warning.  Those who relate to magpies run the risk of all alternative learners and relying on incomplete knowledge.  The lesson I personally take from this is: use what knowledge you have, but continue to learn and grow.  Pretty timely advice. 

 



Spiritual Gardening

 

A few weeks ago, Superman walked past my alter and mentioned that it looked rather sad.  He was right. I have since fixed it, only to get wax all over it on Lammas.   With all the time I have been spending in the garden, I have been substituting my altar time with Earth time. If I had a garden space of my own, I would completely move my altar outdoors during the more temperate months. 

 

 

Several mornings a week, I take Miss Busy and Little Moon to the garden with me.  Perched in their double stroller and armed with snacks and sippy cups, the girls settle into a meditate state of stuffing their faces. In the silence that ensues, I invoke the elements and offer praise to the Universe while I weed, sucker, and harvest.  Standing barefooted in my garden with soil on my hands, I connect with nature and am nature. 

Even now, when my garden is not nearly as beautiful as it was when these photos were taken, a rather intense hail storm battered all the beautiful leaves  I find great inspiration in the strength and resilience found springing from the earth.  The plants are beginning to show the signs of weather and age, yet still they are producing food for my family.  In fact, the stress of our recent storm seems to have spurred some plants my cucumbers and zinnias to finally produce.  It makes me think of how we as individuals often require hard times to nudge us along in our own development.  Mountain gardening is a challenge in so many ways, but the struggles associated with it are teaching me so much.  Not just about this ecosystem and climate, but about myself and my relationship with the Earth. 

 

Celebrating the Beginning of Harvest

This time around the wheel I am trying not to get too caught up in the philosophy of our Pagan holydays, but to enjoy them at their simple point of origin.  I want to celebrate the passage of time as told by the rhythms of nature.  Being so immersed in my garden this summer made Lammas a little extra special.  Garden season goes so quickly here that it really is the beginning of the end.  I could really get into telling you all about my garden, but that is a different post. 

 

 

As usual, I kept things pretty simple.  I decorated my altar with my most recently harvested garden produce, held a sparse 5 minute ritual which even that was too long since Miss Busy managed to pull a page out of her daddy's new book in that time, and made grain cakes for supper.  Once I got the girls settled for the night, I spent about an hour in the garden doing some maintenance and just enjoying the evening.  I left the candles burning, with the fan in the hall and they melted down very quickly so now I have a waxy mess to clean up off my altar, but I did enjoy my little holyday.  As the littles get a bit older it will all get a bit more in depth.

Mini Meditations

Lately, I've really been trying to focus on making my spirituality fit my life.  The hardest part is meditation.  It requires quiet, uninterrupted time that I just don't have.  So I am focusing more on mini-meditations, stolen moments to quiet myself and reflect.  A few of my favorites are listed below.

Hang the Laundry: I know it sounds like a chore and some may see it as extra work, but it's quite relaxing.  The repetitive motion and no brainer activity makes it a great time to think and reflect.  I leave the girls inside and use this time to focus on the invigorating power of the sun and the wind.  It always improves my outlook on the day. Plus the sight of colorful cloth diapers dancing in the wind gives me an enormous sense of accomplishment. 

Sit on the Toilet:  Yes, I did go there.  If you can't get a few moments any other way, hide in the bathroom.  Find a comfortable seat the floor or edge of the tub work just as well as the toilet and just quiet your mind.  The distinctive bath room white noise really helps.  Usually, I find myself hiding in the bathroom when it's been a particularly active day for Miss Busy.  Once I've found a few moments of comfortable balance, I try to focus on all the good, funny, silly things she has done.  It helps me feel far less frazzled. 

Get Something Done:  Maybe this sounds like the opposite of meditation, but stay with me.  If there is something you love to do, but feel you never have time, give it the time that you do have.  I keep some knitting or hand sewing easily accessible through out the day and sneak in a few minutes of work every chance I get.  The act of creating is very meditative for me and unless Miss Busy pulls my knitting down it is something that will never have to be redone.  If I knit one row, that one row will still be there tomorrow. 

Speed Write:  When there are just way too many things running around in my brain, I sit down and write them down as fast as I can.  Give it a try. No editing, no grammar checks, no reading over previous ideas.  Just toss them down on the paper as quickly as they pop into your head.  When you have finished, sit and relish a few moments of mental stillness before throwing the paper away or burning it on your altar. 

Fresh basil from the garden. It has nothing to do with this post
other than the fact that the smell of fresh basil makes me happy.

Mama Magick

Some days, with the inherent business of mothering two little people, I feel like my life has lost all of it's magickal aspects.  Although I make a point to light my altar a few times a week, it has been months since I've done any spell work or meditated.  There just isn't a moment where I can take my eyes off Miss Busy that long and, when her naptime rolls around, I fall asleep every time I sit down to meditate.  Rituals are hit and miss too since, by the time the moon is up, the only place I want to be is in my bed.  It's enough to become discouraging at times, but then I remember that "mother" is one of the magickal phases of a women's life.

Mothering is not just a chore like washing the dishes or filing paperwork.  The very act of being Mama is magick.  If you're feeling skeptical, consider breast milk.  Everyday, all day, my body and the body of every breastfeeding mama produces a very special magickal elixir.  It is far more than nutrition.  It is comfort and love and security.  It is healing tonic and soothing salve.  It is the start to a life time of good physical and emotional health. 

Just like knowingly casting a spell takes huge quantities of energy, the bodies automatic act of creating breast milk and nursing can be physically taxing.  When I choose to nourish my children with my own body, I choose not just to fill their stomachs with the healthiest substance known to man, I also choose to give them large blocks of time to soak in my love and affection unhindered.  Love is the intent of all I do for my children and intent is at the base of all magickal working. 

 

 

At this stage in my life, magick looks a little different than it did before.  I cannot let the spiritual side of myself go, but I do have to recognize that being a mama and a witch are not two different things.  I am both and as of this moment, my intent is focused mainly on two very small people.  Although I sometimes want to follow modern society and demand more of myself, in my heart I know that this is the natural order of things.  I may be doing the greatest magick of my life right now.