saint_of_me (saint_of_me) wrote in virginia_witch,
saint_of_me
saint_of_me
virginia_witch

Storm Calling.

The middle of last week (it was before Katrina, I think!) I did a ritual to call up storms and rain from the south.



If you want to read about the other ritual, go to dark_experience since my time is limited. Otherwise, suffice to say it wasn't strong enough to draw power from a hurricane, though the breezes got a little stronger. Any kind of magical work that I do tends to result in some rainfall. Not the same for snow, or so I think.

So anyway, I waited 5 days and then went wandering around my neighborhood. Walks always put me in a magical mindset eventually. I was fortunate to find some milkweed pods that were ripe. Milkweed, though not recognized as a magical herb in any text I've read, is one of my favorite plants. I think because it's so obnoxious to strait-laced people. There isn't much growing in my neighborhood so I found a good, weedy, swampy piece of land and tossed the fluffs up for the winds to catch. This is another thing that, in my youth, I did when I wanted it to rain.

About another week passed (and Rita) and there was no rain. I became sincerely worried about the plants and the local stores of water. Well, mostly about the plants.

So last Friday I set off with my dagger, a rose, and a little bit of weaving (friendship bracelets) for a spot I think has magical potential. It is a low bit of ground that has warm and cold breezes. I'd like to think this is a good indication of spiritual activity (besides, when you're in the 'burbs you take what you can get!) I gathered some milkweed pods. The were covered with bugs this time.

The grasses were very high. I saw a lot of brown recluse spiders. There was a little stream that was stagnant at one place. I took a stick and moved some soil so the water could flow more freely. Lots of frogs and something (a cat?) that ran through the grass very fast at knee level.

A tiny island had a tiny willow. I got my feet soaked. Put my dagger into the soil. Spread milkweed fluffs around, set down my rose and my "weaving". Then I put my hands over the circle space to try to sense something.

...I hesitate to say there was something fay and old there, beneath that tiny stunted willow. In my mind I explain the prescence by saying it was a hamadryad who used to have a much older, grander tree. Willows will break root off to make new trees, after all.

Then I asked for rain, promised to come back, "blessed" the place (a particular wordless outward directed thought), and retrieved my dagger and -soaked my feet again- left.



Cross-posted to dark_experience, darkpaganism, omni_magick, naturalwitches, and nonfluffymagick.
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