We don’t know about you, but we’ve found that spending the time collating, reading and sharing this collection of stories throughout the month really has made the dreary weather bearable. Diving into history, folklore and culture has been a welcome escape from the cold, short days - truthfully, it feels almost as if we’ve awoken from a dream to find that the world is slowly waking up too, the first signs of spring starting to inch their way up and above the soil.

In fact, as we’ve been busy enjoying Folklore February, the sun has been growing ever more powerful almost without us noticing. When we kicked off this series on February 1st, the sun was setting at 17:06 (local to us in Exeter, England) - whilst our heads have been buried in the books, the sun has been taking back his domain minute by minute and as we bring this series to a close, tomorrow’s sunset isn’t until 17:54! In the way of our ancestors, we have survived the dark days of winter by telling fantastical tales and sharing traditions.

That being said, Folklore February isn’t over just yet. We have another wonderful original story from one of our authors to share with you today, and tomorrow we’ll be launching our biggest giveaway in a long time with a whopping EIGHT books up for grabs for one lucky winner! Keep an eye on our Instagram page @verbenabooks and be the first to enter the prize draw when it lands tomorrow - at the end of this article, we’ve shared the Substack exclusive codeword that will get you a free double entry!

Today’s piece is an exclusive story from , author of The Magic of Seeds, The Witch’s Yearbook, and the 6 book Little Wild Library series! Dive in to the remarkable story of Ella Mary Leather, renowned folk-lorist and writer.

Scratch beneath the surface of the apple orchards and hop fields where I live in Herefordshire and you will find many customs, superstitions and remedies. The county is still predominantly rural and feels a little out of the way and forgotten. Hamnet was filmed in one of the black and white villages here, and no one here was surprised when Agnes (played by Jessie Buckley) cultivated herbs and conjured cures from mugwort and sweet cicely.

Many old traditions are being revived by those of us interested in local folklore, including wassails which erupt across the county on Twelfth Night to banish evil spirits from the orchards and to ensure a bountiful crop. One of the reasons we know about these ‘old ways’ is that they were recorded by Ella Mary Leather, whose book The Folk-lore of Herefordshire’ was originally published in 1912 and which has been reprinted.

Ella Mary and her husband Francis were respected members of the village where they lived (Weobley, where Hamnet was filmed), and Ella Mary frequently visited many country folk at times of hardship and distress, providing food and comfort. As she went about the community she collected folklore, whether it was songs and dances or spells and remedies, and fastidiously recorded what she found. She wrote:

Ordinary people couldn’t afford to pay a physician, so they relied on cures and remedies handed down from mother to daughter. Some of these had elements of magic about them; a level of understanding of the natural world was certainly required.

When I was researching my book on Elder (part of the Little Wild Library series) I dipped into Mary Ella’s book to discover that it was considered unlucky to burn elder wood or bring it into the home. One man was recorded as saying that he ‘would not carry bad luck into his house for the world’. I also discovered that the yellow inner rind of the bark of an Elder tree (called ‘ellum’) was boiled with milk as a remedy for jaundice. And to cure warts, nine notches were cut into a stick of elder wood, then the warts were rubbed with the notches. The stick was sealed in an envelope and dropped at a road crossing. Rather meanly, the person who picked it up got all the warts.

More romantically, when I was writing my Wild Rose book, I found this way to discover the identity of a future husband:

A young woman could also place a plate of flour under a rosemary bush and wait until morning. The initials of her future lover would be found traced in the flour.

Sadly, Mary Ella suffered the loss of two sons during her lifetime, one during the First World War, and she herself died suddenly aged only 52. Her husband Francis died soon afterwards, suffering from the loss of two people he loved so dearly. We are fortunate that Mary Ella lived her life so fully and left a body of work that speaks to us directly from the past, so we can appreciate it in the present.

Keen for more sprigs of wild wisdom? Clare Gogerty’s Little Wild Library series offers expert foraging tips, beginner-friendly recipes, easy craft ideas and enchanting stories rooted in botanical folklore.

Each pocket-sized guide is tailored for outdoor use, and encourages a deeper connection to the natural world. Whether you’re collecting fragrant spring blossoms or vibrant autumn berries, these beautiful little books are your perfect companions.

You can grab all six books in the Little Wild Library series for 26% off at shop.davidandcharles.com just in time for spring!

Order Today

That’s all for Folklore February! Don’t forget to head over to @verbenabooks on Instagram for a once-in-a-lifetime giveaway launching tomorrow - but although the giveaway is hosted on Instagram, we couldn’t resist giving our Substack audience a little something special…

For a FREE DOUBLE ENTRY, leave a comment saying ‘FOLKLOREFEB’ on the giveaway post when you see it tomorrow!

The winner will be announced on Friday the 6th of March, and this giveaway is open worldwide - good luck!

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With our last story being a wonderful original piece on nature and enchanting landscapes from , today we’re turning to animals - and what creature is more magical then the cat?

Dive deep into thousands of years of feline mythology from around the world in this extract from Anne-Sophie Casper’s The Magick of Cats.

The Cult of the Cat in Ancient Egypt

In ancient Egypt, the cat was ranked as a god. These small creatures were much prized by the Egyptian peasants as powerful killers whom they used to guard their grain silos.

Their powers of protection were particularly magickal. In ancient Egypt, the cat symbolised the connection with the afterlife and the invisible worlds. During archaeological digs, tombs have been discovered dating from 2000 to 1500 years before Christ on which there are depictions of cats. These tombs contained numerous ivory knives decorated with a cat shown standing on its hind legs, holding a knife in its front paws.

In this period of his tory, the cat played an apotropaic role, helping both the living and the dead to ward off bad luck, and providing protection from misfortune and evil influences.This is why numerous Egyptians were buried with their weapon.

The God Ra

For Egyptians, the gods were not simply spirits. They were believed to be able to take the form of a living being, a place or an object. Statues and depictions of Ra (god of the sun and the creation of the universe) have been found with a cat by his side.

According to Egyptian mythology, each night, the god Ra, accompanied by the goddess Isis (the divine mother), the god Seth (the god of disorder, confusion and disturbance) and his faithful four-legged friend, would fight the giant serpent Apophis (symbol of darkness, death and chaos). Night after night, they would win the battle thanks to the cat, who was armed with a long lance with which it fearlessly managed to cut off the serpent’s head. After the nocturnal chaos, every sunrise symbolised the victory of good over evil, and thus it continued, every day.

The Goddess Bastet

Like the god Ra, paintings have been found of the cat-headed goddess Bastet (Bast in Egyptian) depicted as a small lion. As time passed, the appearance of the ‘mother of all cats’, as she was known, metamorphosed into an association with wild and domestic cats, in particular black cats. This was no coincidence, as some authors described Bastet as being ‘a woman with the head of a black cat.’

The Egyptians worshipped the goddess Bastet. She protected their families and their homes. The goddess of fertility, joy, beauty and love, she guarded the secrets of women and their homes and protected them from bad luck.

Bastet was depicted with a cat’s head, or even the entire body of a cat, because this goddess emanated mystical, mysterious and divine energies – powers which were likewise attributed to the little feline, honours usually reserved for important personages, so they could be reincarnated.

The Egyptians were so attached to their fluffy friends that when they died, it was tradition to shave off their eye brows. Mourning lasted until the hairs regrew (or until the end of the mummification, around 70 days). It is likewise said that in those times, when there was a fire, people surrounded the flames forming a human protective barrier so that no cat would get burnt.

In Roman Mythology

In Roman mythology, Diana (goddess of hunting, animals and witchcraft) would turn into a cat when she needed to flee. In particular, when she needed to escape from Egypt, she transformed herself into a cat. As the animal was worshipped by the Egyptians, she passed completely unrecognised!

On another occasion, the power to metamorphose into a little cat once again proved to be exceedingly useful. In so doing, Diana was able to shake off Typhon (the god of strong winds and storms) who, after emerging from the bowels of the earth, pursued the gods and goddesses as far as the Egyptian desert.

Although the Romans enjoyed the company of cats (soldiers even took their pets with them to war), Emporer Julius Caesar is said to have been terrified of them!

In Ancient Greece

In ancient Greece, before they were bred as widely as in Egypt, cats were very rare, expensive, precious beasts. Men imported the animals illegally as gifts for their loved ones. According to one tale, there was once a young woman who demanded that her suitor give her an Egyptian cat. When he failed to do so she left him for another lover who made her wish come true.

The Cat’s Influence in China

The myth of the world’s creation

Chinese mythology recounts that when the world was created, the gods wanted cats to be responsible for overseeing the development of the Earth. Preferring to eat, play and sleep, the cats declined the divine offer. The gods then decided to endow humans with the power of speech, leaving the little felines with the job of keeping track of time.

With their large eyes, they had to follow the movement of the sun to ensure that the hours passed correctly. As with the Egyptians and Romans, cats were great allies of Chinese farmers, protecting their crops from the rats and mice that came to gnaw on them. To express their gratitude and appreciation to Lai Cho (the god of agriculture and bountiful harvests), the farmers took special care of the cats, feeding them, caring for them and stroking them as much as the cats desired. This ensured that the cats would feel at home and continue their task of protecting the farms.

Jinhua’s cat

In the book Cat Garden, dating from the time of the Qing dynasty, a legend tells of a cat in Jinhua, a town in eastern China, who was locked up in a small house for three years. Each night it would climb onto the roof and open its mouth wide to suck in the energy of the moon. As the days passed, this essence of the celestial body enabled it to become a spirit.

Once transformed, it went into hiding in the mountains during the day. When night fell, it would come out of its hiding place to meet people. If its path crossed that of a handsome young man, it would transform into a seductive woman and vice versa. Sometimes, it would even venture into houses, where it would urinate into jugs, gourds and water bottles to poison people. Over time, after many people had fallen prey to mysterious illnesses, cat hairs were discovered. The villagers called in a hunter to catch the cat. When he had fulfilled his task, the hunter skinned it and cooked its flesh. The sick ate it and were immediately cured!

In Japanese Mythology

Bakeneko

The prominent cat of Japanese mythology is the bakeneko, meaning ‘changed cat’ or ‘monster cat’. This malevolent creature of the folklore of the Land of the Rising Sun is associated with a legend dating back to the 16th century. When the silk industry in Japan was at its height, cats protected the silk worms, chasing away any animal that came near. During this period, it was illegal to buy or sell cats, which meant ever-increasing numbers of stray cats –and ever more legends and rumours as well.

Some cats, for example, were said to be able to walk on their hind legs, while others could speak or return to life after they had died. This is how the superstitions of the bakeneko began to spread. They were said to have the power to shapeshift into human form; or to take possession of a body, place or family in order to bend them to their will, force them to do their bidding or even kill them. In Japanese mythology, the bakeneko could be seen licking the fish oil lamps and spitting out balls of fire. All cats were said to become bakenekowhen they reached the age of 13, if they weighed less than 3.5kg (7¾lb) or had a long tail. Even though the bakeneko are frightening figures, Japanese people are fascinated by them. Every October a special festival, the Bakeneko Matsuri, is held in their honour in the Kagurazaka district of Tokyo.

The Vampire Cat

There is a widespread legend in Japanese mythology, that tells of O Toyo, the favourite among Prince Nabeshima’s ladies, who had night mares every night. She would dream that a large black cat was spying on her as she slept. One night, when her sleep was very disturbed, she awoke with a start and realised there was a huge beast with phosphorescent eyes crouched, watching her from the foot of her bed.

Rendered mute with terror, O Toyo was unable to cry out or move. At that moment, the great feline leapt for her throat and throttled her to death. After burying the young woman under cover of darkness, the cat assumed her appearance and her life. O Toyo continued to visit the Prince, but his strength began to ebb away. He became more and more sick. No doctor could find the reason for this mysterious decline. After many long weeks, despite her apparently good intentions, O Toyo’s scheming was revealed. To save his skin, the Prince determined he would leave her and have her decapitated.

As her head fell from her body, it was a cat’s head that rolled across the floor. Those present realised that the cause of the prince’s sickness was this vampire cat who drank his blood!

Celtic And Norse Mythologies

The Cat-sith

In Celtic mythology, cats are not always the good guys. The Celts were very suspicious of them. They did not trust them as they feared that they would steal the souls of deceased family members before the gods could claim them. As a result, the little felines were banned from funeral rites. The Celts did every thing to prevent them from approaching their deceased. However, druids and sorcerers were often accompanied by their faithful furry friend as they performed their rites and spells. Cats held an important role and acted as an intermediary between the world of the living and the world of the dead.

The cat-sith, or cat-sìdhe, also known in Ireland as the cat sí, was a fairy creature said to haunt the Scottish Highlands. There are many legends relating to the cat-sith in the Scottish and Irish folklore of the early Middle Ages; legends tell of a fairy race known as the Sìdhe or Sith, lived in the hills of these two countries.

The cat-sith had black fur with a white spot on its chest and was the size of a dog. This cat was probably inspired by the Kellas cat which seems to be a hybrid of the European wildcat and the domestic cat. According to legend, they looked like this because they were really witches who had assumed the shape of a cat. Once again, the power of the number nine is important: the Celts believed that a witch could turn into a cat nine times. The first eight were simple shapeshifts, but on the last life, the witch would remain in the skin of the cat-sith.

It is tradition during the Samhain festival (which marks the end of the harvest and the start of the winter season in the calendar of the Wicca year), to leave out a small bowl of milk for the cat-sith to drink. In return, the cat-sith blesses and protects the house and all who live in it. If they forget to put out the milk, the family may suffer many years of bad luck.

(Video game fans will already be familiar with the creature known as Cait-sith in the game Final Fantasy. He looks very different from his namesake in traditional folklore, sitting astride a giant stuffed seed with which he communicates using a megaphone).

The Irusan cat

Another legendary figure of Celt mythology is the Irusan cat, said to be as big as a cow, which lived in a cave in Ireland. Far from hiding away, it lived a happy, rich and pleasant life.

The chief bard, Senchan, composed a satirical song mocking the giant cat. After he sang it, Senchan was never seen again. St Kieran, protector of the Irusan cat, was said to have killed him.

Cats Among The Trolls

One legend tells how a farmer, who owned a cat, extended a generous invitation to the trolls each year to join him to celebrate Christmas. However, the trolls were known for often being dangerous. One particular year, the farmer invited a traveller and his bear to join them.

Having eaten his fill of the festive fare, the bear fell into the arms of Morpheus. One of the trolls mischievously tried to waken him by offering him more food, believing him to be the big cat! The bear became enraged and terrified the trolls with his growls. To them it sounded like thunder, something they feared above all else. Since then, it is said that having a cat in the house keeps trolls, and the problems they cause, away.

The goddess Ferya’s cats

In Norse mythology, Freya (the goddess of love, sexuality, beauty and fertility) was worshipped by many peoples.

A powerful warrior, this goddess is also associated with magick and arcane knowledge. Known as ‘the mistress of cats’ because all cats were sacred to her, Freya is the patron of the Viking art of magic, divination and shamanism (seidr), which is why she is associated with the energy and character of cats. In this mythology, winged cats were said to have supernatural strength and indeed two of them pull the goddess Freya’s chariot.

We’re sad to say that we’re nearing the end of Folklore February - there’s just one tale left to share! We’ve saved a gem until last, and we’re delighted to be ending the series with another original piece from one of our authors… we won’t say who just yet, but you can ponder the theme of the story from the cryptic clue below:

If you’ve enjoyed Folklore February, then keep your eyes peeled for our huge giveaway launching on the 28th - we’re going to give you the chance to win every single book that we’ve mentioned in this series!

To stay up to date, you can follow us on Instagram here.

(Are you a fan of feline folklore? Order The Magick of Cats today at the link here).

Step into the spiral of time, and open history’s apothecary cabinet with this enchanting piece and herbal recipe…

We walked across the boggy land from Yarrow water towards the Yarrow stone, an ancient grave marker engraved in Latin not far from Selkirk in the Scottish Borders, thought to be the resting place of two 5th century princes. We then began heading towards Dryhope tower, a defensive mount built by the Scott family in the 16th century to protect and guard people and animals. The family where not motivated purely by protective instinct, but they were also notorious rievers and existed in a realm where the border families on both sides of the Cheviot hills thrived on raiding and enduring blood feuds.

In a landscape that was once governed by fear, force and survival and with such a name as Yarrow, it is not surprising to see a proliferation of wound healing plants. (Although, in this instance, the name Yarrow refers to the environment, thought to come from the Anglian family name Gyrwe, meaning marshland or fen-dweller and probably arising from the blanket bogs which gift this environment the appearance of cushioning as opposed to literally being the common name for Achillea Millefolium.)

The cold, dreich February light gives a sense of otherworldliness, and we are sure we can hear the soft tread and subtle whispers of young women, clearly trying to pass by unheard and unseen. But their language and murmured conversations about Mary ‘the flower of Yarrow’ and her husband the notorious Wat Scott inform us that they are not of our time, and we try to place them on a timeline.

We soon realise that the women come from a moment when this land is still held in favour by the Scottish crown, the king that we surmise is James the VI (1st of England. He is, at this point, too busy condemning witches and trying to avenge the workings that he supposes summoned the storm that nearly took his wife from him, and has not yet fallen out with the Scott’s and slighted the tower, as in the background we can see it fortified, complete, not yet a ruin.

We have, we realise, got caught up in a time spiral.

The young women are secretive, staying hidden as they search for plants, treading carefully along the edge of the marsh where the trees step their roots into the marsh. They tiptoe in the shadows away from the water, pockets full of moss for soaking up blood and viscera, looking, still seeking bone binding Comfrey and wound healing Yarrow to use for a vital staunching of raiding party wounds.

Herbalists often talk about plants ability to appear in areas where they are needed the most, you will find liver cleansing dandelions rooted stoically outside pubs, graze-mending Plantain poking its head from the edges of asphalt covered playgrounds, cleansing Birch clamouring to rewild disused quarries, and you may chance upon mood lifting St John’s Wort when you feel down hearted.

So, we are not surprised to see the ancient women now find the plants they have been looking for.

As they return towards a hearth-lit stone building their voices start to weave a story, one intended to cause shivers and while away the darkening evening.

They launch into a tale that had started as a rumour concerning the nearby village of Yarrowfoot, one claiming that it is home to a ‘Witch-nag’, that the blacksmith’s apprentice is being ‘hag ridden’, turned into a horse at night by a auld wife who has made a pact with the devil and now rides across the valley to drink with another riever laird, an Elliot they surmise, who will come and attack and steal the tower’s herds.

As they speak, the girls shudder and peer out into the shadows fearfully.

A few Yarrow flowers are added to boiling water from a pan on the hearth and allowed to infuse. They know that not only will this plant help wounds to heal, but it will also help to calm and reassure - this has been the herb of warriors and witches since ancient times, and legends of its healing powers communicate themselves across the ether to us.

These girls may not know of Chiron, but would have certainly heard the click of his hooves where Yarrow grows: the legendary centaur, wise herbalist and healer had gifted Yarrow to the warrior Achilles to use when he was injured. The Romans who had built walls and ditches on either side of this plain, to the north and south of the Cheviot hills, had worshipped Achilles, and their beloved legends have somehow become steeped into the landscape.

The girls start to settle down for the night; their stories are done, the herbs and mosses are stored safely, and there will be no raids tonight.

As they do so, we step back into our own world and look around once more...the stones that used to traverse the marshland are now surrounded by a boardwalk, the first green fronds of Yarrow are appearing through the damp brown February mud and we gather a few leaves for a calming tea of our own, pondering a future with their stalks once warmer days come and the first flowers appear. It is only February after all, and the first flourishes are only just beginning.

This is a time to seek first leaves; Tiny Nettle leaves before the stings gain power, lymph cleansing Cleavers, soothing Chickweed, and maybe, if you’re lucky, a frond or two of Yarrow.

As we start to emerge from the old year, the winter, I invite you to sip a Yarrow tea, lower your stress levels, dream of stories, folklore and days past, and begin to imagine what the future might hold.

Recipe: Yarrow Tea

• Take four or five tiny new stinging nettle leaves, a stem or two of Chickweed and a 6cm long shoot of cleavers, along with two fern frond leaves from Yarrow.

• Wash them well in cold running water.

• Add to a mug and pour over freshly boiled water, allow to infuse for at least three minutes, or longer if it suits you.

• Sip and dream of Springtime plans.

Amanda Edmiston is a writer, artist and storyteller with a background in herbal medicine, splitting her time between her native Scotland and beautiful Northumbria. She has been weaving herbal stories as Botanica Fabula internationally for over 15 years.

Amanda first invited us into the time spiral to explore a place where plants, folklore, history and fairy tales meet in The Time Traveller’s Herbal, and the adventures will continue in June this year with Collected Curiosities: Rejoin our herbal time traveller in 1800’s Scotland, and embark on a journey of mystery, movement, and medicinal magic.

You can also discover more of Amanda’s ways of working with Yarrow in her online course: Meadow Meanders on her website Botanica Fabula.

Enjoying Folklore February? We have a magical collection of stories lined up ready and waiting for you to explore - subscribe for free to immerse yourself in the enchanting world of folklore!

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Eager to read more of Amanda’s herbal storytelling? Check out her Substack profile at , and pre-order a signed copy of Collected Curiosities below!

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In our month of magic so far, we’ve shared everything from the thrilling tales of the open seas to the spells hidden in gardens across the Western world - including original pieces written exclusively for Folklore February by two of our authors here at Verbena Books!

Missed the start of Folklore February? You can catch up on and ’s original stories here and here.

Today, we’re delighted to be publishing a never-before-seen bonus story from Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast by ! Lose yourself under the waves with the watery wisdom of Mami Wata…

(If you would like to read this story in PDF form, you can download it for free below)

Mami Wata Bonus Story

2.57MB ∙ PDF file

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The Mermaid Witch

Mami Wata is as deep as the ocean and as old as the sky. She was born in the hot, salty Red Sea, where her tail grew long and serpentine. She followed the rivers and tributaries far into the lands of Africa, to the south and the west, befriending the creatures of the shallows and the deep. Every now and then she would surface, soaking in the sun, looking curiously at the people as they walked on land—their strange feet pressing into the sand, or fitted into shoes— trading, buying, and selling the beautiful objects they made that would glint prettily in the sunlight.

One day Mami Wata found a golden comb and a mirror made of smooth glass and pearlescent oyster shells, its reflection revealing her own beauty to herself. She took these to a lovely sunbaked rock by the water, her tail luxuriating in the gentle waves. She pressed the golden comb through her long black curls, staring at her dark brown eyes in the mirror, the rainbow colors glimmering off her scales in the watery sunshine.

It was here that a human man came upon Mami Wata, startling her. He was so beautiful, his bare muscles rippling in the sunshine, his odd brown feet coated in soft beach sand. He stared at her in shock, and she smiled. He came closer, and she wondered what it would be like to touch his dry skin, feel the muscles of his legs, the tiny hairs all over his body. She offered him her hand, elegant and smooth, irresistible. He couldn’t help but come closer. She drew him gently into her waters, into the waves, and she showed him something of her world, disappearing into pleasure and an eternity of the sweet waters of love. When she finally returned him to the shore, flushed, drenched, and in love, she blessed him with wealth and good luck as long as he returned to her often and never took another woman in his life. He agreed to this easily, drunk on her beauty, power, and magic, and knowing somewhere deep in his bones that to do otherwise would be extremely unwise.

Mami Wata took several lovers like this, exploring the different bodies of these human men, each time returning them safely with blessings as long as they remained hers forever. This was working well for everyone until one day one of these men stole her precious golden comb and oyster shell mirror. Perhaps he liked their glint and shimmer as she did. Or perhaps he was trying to prove something to an unbeliever. Either way, this would not stand. This man did not understand Mami Wata’s power.

So she followed this man out of the ocean, her tail shifting into long, strong legs. She took her time, pausing to admire the strange objects at the market, clothing herself with fine fabrics and thick dark sunglasses that could protect her from the brightness of the sun on land. She took as much as she liked, trading these goods for an endless illusion of human wealth that was no more than the sparkle from a few grains of ocean sand. When she was finished with her purchases, she walked to the man’s house, finding him showing off her comb and mirror to a woman, who peered at them with interest.

Mami Wata bared her teeth, sharp as a piraña’s. The woman gasped, with the good sense to be afraid, and fled. Mami Wata smoothed her teeth and her smile and asked nicely, at first.

“You will return these items to me and to the ocean. If you do so, I will bless you with wealth and good fortune. You will remain faithful to me—and only me,” she glanced at the door the woman had left through. “If you do not…” suddenly, her face turned the strange blackish green of the sunless deep, her eyes the silver of a shark’s fin, her teeth sharp once again. “If you do not,” she continued,” I will curse you with illness, misfortune, and the shadow of death for the rest of your life.”

The man, terrified, dropped to his knees, bowing low. He held out the mirror and the comb, and Mami Wata took them in her delicate hands, her fingernails long and white as the shell of a hermit crab.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling sweetly, her face again the otherworldly beauty the man had known before. “Now come, my darling.” And so this man followed her to her realm of oceanic bliss, where he stayed for what translated to years in human timelines. True to her word, she returned him to the surface with blessings of wealth and good fortune, young to all who had aged in his absence, and he never dared to look at another woman again in his life.

The more the people came to know about Mami Wata, the more they adored her. They left her offerings, prayed to her, honored the blessings and the danger of the great waters. The woman who had run away in fear years before had become her devotee, leaving her offerings of woven baskets and jewelry, and she was blessed with wealth and handsome lovers. Mami Wata cared for her people as a mother to her children—with the occasional punishment if they dared stray too far away.

Generations passed like this in peace and prosperity. But one day something truly terrible happened. Cruel, pale skinned people arrived from a faraway land and stole her people away from her shores. They packed her people onto ships, chained them, took them away from their land and their families. They were violent and hateful, an evil brood, calling out the name of some distant god with weapons in their hands. Ship after ship came all over Africa, enslaving her people, spreading them to distant realms to do the hard, cold labor of foreign lands. Mami Wata tasted blood when she saw their ships.

And so she followed them through the ocean, making herself multiple, many Mami Watas swimming in the wake of the great ships, disturbing their passage, capsizing them when she could. When one of her people was tossed overboard, their bodies limp of life, she would bring their souls back home where they belonged.

The Mami Watas worked hard, trying to protect her people, but there was only so much they could do, even with the power of the ocean behind them. When all the ships had gone and her lands were as gutted as a fish, she stayed with her stolen people. She disguised her many bodies as one of them, stepping with them onto new lands, new dirt, cooler waters, strange new beasts and plants, breathing different air, hearing strange languages, and helping her people heal from the blisters of labor and lashes of cruel oppressors.

When their hearts and bones ached, she helped them remember their songs and rituals. When they missed their home, she filled them with the love and blessings of the ocean and their care for each other. When they felt the anger of rebellion stirring in their bellies, she taught them how to shapeshift, like her, to fold their knowings into the enslaver’s beliefs, hiding them in plain sight. When they despaired, she whispered the seeds of revolution into their ears.

When the enslavers finally found her, hidden inside their Catholic saints, her prayers in the mouths of devoted church-goers, they called her a witch, a demon, a succubus. They made her into a horror story, an evil siren that would lure sailors to their deaths. Then they tried to change her story, to make her light skinned, with blonde hair that would tangle and snag on her golden comb. Once, they tried to outlaw her, as if the ocean could be tamed. Mami Wata only laughed, trusting in her people’s memory, knowing her powers—and theirs— were greater than those that feared her.

The Original Mermaid?

Mami Wata is a goddess, maybe, or a benevolent mermaid. Or possibly an evil mermaid, or possibly a woman who walks on land and steals men and children into the ocean. She may be influenced by European mermaids, or maybe she influenced them. She is to be worshiped, or possibly to be avoided at all costs. She might kidnap a man or a child from the land and take them to their watery death, or she might rescue them from a shipwreck, bringing them home safely and with blessings. She is a single figure, but also an umbrella term for a whole pantheon of male and female water deities. She is such an ambiguous character that the more I learn about her, the less I feel able to define her. Like Hekate and Morgan le Fay, she is a shapeshifter, uncategorizable, and that is part of what makes her so powerful.

This shapeshifting quality even extends to her origins. Her myths in West Africa date back at least 4,000 years, but some argue she originated in the Caribbean and her stories were brought to Africa later. She may begin with Oannes, a reptilian deity worshiped in ancient Mesopotamia, the Greek island of Ionia, and ancient Egypt at least as early as 2000 BCE. She seems to have some connection with the Sumerian goddess Ninhursag, the Egyptian goddess Isis, and the Hindu goddess Durga as well as the Hindu god Hanuman, who appears as Papi Wata, Mami Wata’s consort. She has a clear connection with the Yoruban orishas Yemoya and Oshun, who are also water deities, but it’s unclear if they are versions or offshoots of each other, and which would have come first. She is known, worshiped, loved, and/or feared in much of Africa and many areas of the African diaspora today.

The name Mami Wata likely comes from an ancient Egyptian root, mama, which means “truth” or “wisdom,” and uati, which means “water.” Some also see it as a form of pidgin English meaning “mama water.” This fits right in with her shapeshifting identity; pidgin is essentially a new type of language that pulls together different influences to create a vernacular that can be understood better by all sides. That is essentially how Mami Wata works her magic.

In many stories, she can walk on land with legs as easily as swim in the water with her tail. Occasionally she will transform into a man so she can wander the markets and check out the sunglasses. Some Mami Wata traditions emphasize her love of things—beautiful combs, mirrors, watches, and sunglasses—reveling in the wealth that she can display as well as bestow (and recalling, perhaps, a certain Little Mermaid who loves to collect human things and occasionally rescue handsome men from shipwrecks).

During the slave trade, up to 14 million people were taken from their homes in Africa and sent mostly to European colonies in the Americas. While these people were forced to convert to Catholicism, the enslaver’s religion, they found a way to secretly enfold pieces of their traditional African religions into it. This resulted in new religions like Vodou in Haiti, Candomblé in Brazil, and Santeria in Cuba, which are now actively practiced in many parts of the diaspora including the United States.

Like Morgan le Fay, Mami Wata probably gained some of her bad reputation during an era when women’s power was feared and the Catholic Church was trying to maintain and strengthen its hold. The witch hunting era was alive and well during the slave trade epoch, and any hint of spirituality outside of Roman Catholicism was too threatening to stand. In 1685, in the colony of Saint Domingue, African traditional religions were outlawed. This didn’t work, of course—it only drove the African belief systems deeper into the saints and rituals of Catholicism and into secrecy beyond that. This terrified the enslavers, and perhaps for good reason: Vodou is said to be a major part of what started the rebellion in the late 1700s that eventually led to the abolishment of slavery and the transformation of Saint Domingue to the new republic of Haiti.

To this day, Vodou and other diasporic religions with traditional African roots are often still shrouded in persecution (and its declawed modern counterpart, ridicule). The concept of zombies actually originates with fears that Vodou practitioners could raise the dead in order to make them into slaves—a concept explored in the classic 1936 horror film White Zombie. In true witch hunting fashion, Vodou practitioners were accused of ritually killing and eating a child in 1863—a common accusation during the witch hunts against anyone practicing their indigenous and land-based knowings.

Queer Mermaids

Mermaids have always been coded as queer and, perhaps specifically, trans. They can shift environments and even bodies. In the popular 1989 Disney film The Little Mermaid, which is based on an 1867 Hans Christian Andersen tale by the same name, the mermaid is motivated by desire for romantic love and the need for a different body. In both texts, queerness is somewhat built in: Andersen may have written The Little Mermaid as a kind of love letter to Edvard Collin, his lover, when he found out Edvard was engaged to a woman. In the Disney film, Ursula, the sensual, deep-voiced Sea Witch, was animated after the American drag queen known as Divine.

In both stories, the mermaid is sweet and innocent, pure of heart, while the sea witch is evil and unpredictable. While Mami Wata may have gotten the same witch-washing as Morgan le Fay during this time, it would be a mistake to see her as purely benevolent. She represents the water, which can bring blessings of fish and travel, or a cool dip on a hot day, but can also rage as a deadly storm and teem with dangerous creatures of the deep. Queerness too refuses the binary, insisting on opening its borders, seeing the possibility of love in a range of bodies and experiences. Any system that requires people to play specific roles, worship one singular god, and follow a single set of rules can’t stand for that.

The deities of ancient land-based beliefs were frequently both generous and terrifying. Like the ocean, the sky, or the forest, these deities could give as easily as they could take away. Over time, many nature goddesses became split into two, generally due to the waves of invasions by patriarchal cultures that slowly shifted the world’s societies from generally matriarchal to patriarchal, necessitating the concept that the feminine could either be “good” or “evil.” Inanna, the Mesopotamian Queen of Heaven, battles with her sister Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Underworld. The Greek Demeter, once the goddess of grain as well as the Underworld, remains in the sunshine while her daughter, Persephone, holds court over the Underworld. The Cailleach, Celtic Queen of Winter, is said to battle with Brigid, Goddess of the Springtime. Hekate was likely once an aspect of Artemis who needed to be separated out into her own shadowy figure. Over and over again, we’ve seen these goddesses split into two, separating out the “good” from the “evil,” the mermaid and the sea witch, even though they were once both/all.

Meditation With Mami Wata: Water Wisdom

Interested in working with Mami Wata to explore the depths of your unconscious mind? Download this free meditation by Julie Peters, also written exclusively for Folklore February!

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In 1976, renowned folklorist Margaret Baker set out to unearth the myth and magic that hid in gardens across Britain and North America. She compiled letters sent from gardeners across the Western world who cherished their superstitions dearly, passing down their traditions and stories from generation to generation. This collection was immortalised in Gardener’s Folklore, an authentic exploration of the ancient secrets of old-time gardeners.

Enjoy this exclusive excerpt from Gardener’s Folklore in which Margaret Baker emphasises the importance of February in the gardener’s magical calendar: do you know which day in February you should be planting onions, lettuces, sweet peas and cabbages?

For many centuries, until the introduction of almanacs, the gardener’s year was paced by sun, seasons, the rising and setting of stars, saints’ days, sprouting leaves and migrant birds. Many reminders are still in use, and we recall the wisdom of sowing parsley on Good Friday, of planting when cuckoo and swallow arrive and of setting shallots at the winter solstice. The pious prune their roses on St Patrick’s Day; the worldly with Grand National Day as a guide.

St Bride, Candlemas And St Valentine

The first day of Celtic Spring, 1 February, was Christianized as the day of St Bride, the White Goddess of England, Scotland and Ireland, whose symbols were the spring lamb and the dandelion. On St Bride’s Day, outdoor work begins in Ireland. The saint promised that after her day every second day would be hard and dry and St Patrick that after his day—17 March—every day would be dry.

All over North America, 2 February, Candlemas, is Groundhog Day, an occasion noted in every newspaper. If the groundhog emerges from his burrow then and sees his own shadow, frost and snow are still to come, but a cloudy day means happily that winter is nearly done. Similarly in seventeenth-century England:

Many gardeners in Missouri and Arkansas, homes of tradition, remembering the Old Style calendar, celebrate Groundhog Day on 14 February, Candlemas Old Style, now St Valentine’s Day. In 1933 when 2 February dawned clear and 14 February lowering, Vance Randolph in Greene County, Missouri, saw with amusement, ‘fur-riners’ prepare for six weeks’ more winter, while the old-timers, secure in their knowledge, cast aside their sheepskin coats and began to dig their gardens.

Inevitably some garden beliefs have switched from Old to New Style, partly because St Valentine’s Day, nearly two weeks later, is kindlier to planting. Styles now blend and adjurations march equably together:

wrote William Ellis in The Modern Husbandman (1750): in 1974 Cecil Atkins confirmed the saying as still well known round Waddesdon, Buckinghamshire, only a few miles from Ellis’s farm; other gardeners may apply the same instructions to St Valentine’s Day.

Onion sowing is properly done on St Valentine’s Day in North Carolina; English gardeners, on the other hand, are advised to sow after St Valentine’s, ‘when cats are on the prowl’, suggesting warm spring nights of ‘growing’—and mating—weather.It is a day specially fortunate for planting garden peas, lettuces, sweet peas and cabbages: one year when 14 February happened to fall upon a Sunday (a forbidden day for garden work) the residents of Kingston, Arkansas, anxious to comply strictly with the rules, rose before dawn to plant their lettuces, so as not to be caught violating the Sabbath by their neighbours!

Arthur Randell, a lifelong Norfolk Fenman, tells us that his father always walked into the garden early on 14 February to see if the trees were ‘on the drip’, which promised a good year for peas and beans. If the morning were dry he shook his head gloomily and pronounced that they would be ‘ate up by lice’.

In Dorset, the self same procedure applied to Candlemas: ‘N’importe,’ wrote one, ‘the weather prophet coolly moves on his peg and goes on predicting with equal confidence!’

Leap Year Beans

In a ‘leap year’, every fourth year, February has 29 days—as we all know. Proper order is overturned in the ‘ladies’ year’: girls propose to men and beans grow backwards in their pods. ‘The eye is to the point, in other years to the strig [stalk],’ a Surrey labourer solemnly assured Squire Leveson-Gower of Titsey in 1888, a leap year. The squire investigated and wrote astringently: ‘I have opened several pods of this year’s growth and find the eye is to the point—and it probably will be so next year!’ But a correspondent in the Grantham Journal of 22 September unreservedly agreed: ‘It has been discovered that all kinds of Windsor and French beans this year have been produced in the pods in the reverse position to that which is usual’. Investigators might like to remember to check their beans in the next leap year.

Saints David, Chad and Patrick

The days between the feasts of Saints David and Chad (1 and 2 March) and that of Benedict (21 March) are for pea- and bean-sowing:

When sweetpea growing became popular in the eighteenth century the belief expanded to embrace the flowers too. Sweetpeas sown on St Patrick’s Day have larger more fragrant flowers if the work is done before sunrise. The day is deemed good in Buckinghamshire for onion sowing, writes Cecil Atkins, but perhaps most generally observed was St Gregory the Great’s Day, 12 March, so notable a date for this purpose that Lancashire cottagers dubbed it ‘Gregory-gret-Onion’. In Wales the first daffodil of the year is said to bloom on St David’s Day to honour the saint.

On his day, 17 March, St Patrick ‘turns the warm side of the stone uppermost’ and the first potato planting is done in Ireland: a dilatory gardener who misses this signal date may remedy his omission by saying ‘praise be to St Patrick’ as he drops each potato into its hole. Mrs O’Regan writes from County Cork that her father always made a point of pruning his rambler roses on St Patrick’s Day, following a custom common in southern Ireland.

Thanks to immigrants the reputation of St Patrick’s Day is as lustrous in the United States as it is in Ireland, for planting peas and ‘Irish potatoes’ (as opposed to sweet potatoes) and for transplanting from cold frames under the saint’s beneficent eye. Maryland gardeners believe the day proper for cabbage planting but—in a pagan elaboration—the work must be done before dawn by a gardener wearing his night clothes: cabbages thus started are certain to ‘head up well’.

Keen to dig deeper into the magic of your garden? Learn all of the ancient secrets and folk practices behind a happy garden in Gardener’s Folklore, available to purchase here!

Let us know if you’ve been enjoying Folklore February so far! We have a treasure trove of tales lined up for the next few weeks, including three more exclusive stories from some of our authors - can you guess which mythological figure Monday’s instalment is about?

Throughout Folklore February, we’re going to be sharing enchanting stories from a range of cultures and traditions - including 5 original pieces written just for you by some of our wonderful authors!

Today, we’ll be diving into the deep sea with some maritime folklore. Read on for raging winds, benevolent gods and salty superstitions - do you know which country the myth of Davy Jones actually originates from?

Whistling Winds

Every maritime nation accounted for the winds’ origins. In the days of sail, weather was inseparable from progress, profits and victories. As vividly as on the day when the words were written in 1869, Captain George Moodie’s frustration leaps from the log of the Cutty Sark: ‘Lat. 26° 26’ S, Long. 23° 47’ W. Distance 15 miles. Calm! Calm! Calm!’ Another, blunter pen, that of Captain Matthew Ryan of the Ida M. Clark, added in chorus: ‘Calm! Calm! Calm! Dam! Dam! Dam!’

Every maritime nation accounted for the winds’ origins. Once in Brittany, all was still and sailors were forced, laboriously, to row everywhere. One crew, hearing word of a Country of the Winds, pulled their weary way to it and imprisoned the winds in sacks for the skipper to select the foul for drowning and the fair to serve the world. But an inquisitive sailor ripped open a sack prematurely and the evil sourouas or sou’wester (south-westerly wind) pounced; the ship was swamped and all drowned. In the confusion the other winds broke free, to the everlasting pain of seamen.

In the Greek story, Aeolus, god of winds, who invented ships’ sails, presented Odysseus with a wineskin enclosing all the breezes, secured by a silver string. But again curious rowers untied the fatal knot.

The Japanese wind-god carried a great sack of winds on his back; the Chinese ‘Earl of Wind, Feng-Po’ purveyed breezes from a goatskin bottle. Until late in the nineteenth century sailors were still disposed to call a lively breeze ‘a good bagful’, and the symbolism of winds persisted long after their assistance was no longer required – the motto of HMS Hood was ‘Ventis Secundis’: ‘with favourable winds’.

In an aversion pertaining to aural magic, outmoded, yet surviving, whistling at sea is still discouraged. Such ‘devil’s music’ might goad the gods into dangerous windy retaliation. It was said that whistling in calms produced fair breezes; in a wind, a killing blast. ‘Whistle only when the wind is asleep’ was the sea-rule.

Sir Francis Drake’s brilliant seamanship persuaded many that he had supernatural assistance and legend relates that Drake, the Devil and fellow wizards forgathered at Devil’s Point, Plymouth, to whistle up tempests and devilry to confound the Spanish Armada.

In every country contrary winds are devil’s work: ‘as busy as a devil in a gale of wind’ is a seaman’s way of describing one fully occupied. In China a sudden squall is ‘Tin-foo-Foong’ – ‘the devil’s headwind’. Naval men, reluctant to honour superstition, preferred to say that whistling might be confused with the orders of the bosun’s pipe.

Sea-Gods and Saints

What of the gods to whom seamen’s petitions were addressed?

Leader of the pantheon was Poseidon or Neptune, lord of the seas, inventor of ships, whose underwater palace-cave in the deep Aegean glittered with gold, who gathered clouds and waves, calmed seas and granted safe passages.

Represented as an old bearded man with a trident, trailing seaweed, he rode the foam in a divine chariot or car, drawn by frisking dolphins or by tritons, blowing conch-shells in his honour. These took their name from Triton, half-man, half-fish, son of Poseidon and his consort Amphitrite, female aspect of the sea, whose netted hair was dressed with crabs’ claws.

From Oceanus proceeded all the watery element; his sister consort Tethys was greatest of the sea-goddesses; his 3,000 aquatic daughters the Oceanids.

Proteus, guard to Poseidon’s seal-herd, and Nereus, ‘Old Man of the Sea’, inferior only to Poseidon himself, were affably ready to assist sailors. Nereus’s fifty daughters, the Nereids, were ancestresses of mermaids.

In Scandinavian waters ruled the all powerful Odin, who sent storms, and Njord, dweller in the shoreside ‘place of ships’, who held maritime pursuits in his hand. Almost a god and surrounded by booty from wrecks, sat the giant Aegir and his wife Ran, who stirred the waves to imperil vessels and cast a great net for every man who ventured upon the sea. To drown was ‘to go to Ran’.

Wherever the sailor found himself, the gods were there:

Viracocha, the ‘white seafoam god’ of Peru; O-Wata-Tsu-Mi, the Japanese ‘Old Man of the Tide’ whose messenger was a sea-monster; Tashire, Tawhiri-ma-tea and Taaruatai, Poseidons of the Society Islands; Tangaroa, with fish his children, the god of the Maoris. In the Hervey Islands, Vatea, half-man, half-shark, inventor of nets and fishing, and his brother Tirnivan, lord of fish, half-man, half-sprat, were esteemed. The Tahitians’ prayer on setting sail was, ‘Tahitia mai i te matou tere, e te atua!’ – ‘Harken unto us throughout our voyage, O gods!’ Varuna, a fish his sign, was the Indian Neptune. To the Chinese goddess, Ma Chua, whose shrine lamps provided protective ashes for junks, sailors called during storms as ‘Grandmother Ma Chua!’ The Arabs worshipped Kidir, brother of Elias, ruler of winds, god of voyages. The Hawaiian deities Kunra and Hina obligingly drove shoals of fish to the island in season. These were but a few among thousands.

The essence of all pagan ceremonies for sea-gods is contained in the voodoo ritual for Agwé Woyo, god of the sea, which survives in the West Indies:

By the mast of a brightly flagged boat, oblivious to singing, drums, trumpets or conch, stands the mambo, holding up two white chickens in signal to Agwé.

Two women fall possessed – the god has arrived!

In the rising din a ram is pushed overboard, the chicken are slaughtered and, with a seven-tiered wedding-cake, they join the offerings piled high in the model ‘Agwé’s barque’. With ritual consecration completed, six men heave the barque over the rail, it sinks like a stone, plucked down by the god’s own hands, and everyone bursts forth in a great song of réjouissance.

In many countries the coming of Christianity brought changes in honours; pagan petitions became the property of saints. Still, for the prudent mariner, old gods, if demoted and tamed to silence, lingered on.

Odin, for example, was now transmuted as Old Nick, the sea-demon with a hundred aliases – Nokke, Neck and Nyck; and the Indian god Deva Lokka as Davy Jones, noted for his underwater ‘locker’.

If you want to dive further into the salty magic of the waves, there’s a whole underwater world to explore in Margaret Baker’s Folklore of the Sea.

Filled with the myths and legends of the deep, this new illustrated edition of the cult classic folklore collection reveals the stories that swirled on the open seas, and the customs that remain a part of maritime life - you can order Folklore of the Sea at the link here.

Enjoying Folklore February? Subscribe to keep up with our month of magic. Can you guess the theme of our next story from the cryptic clue below?

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Under the cold light of Sunday’s Imbolc full moon, the goddess Cailleach Beara was woken - but has she won the battle to keep her icy grasp on the world for a few weeks longer?

In today’s instalment of Folklore February, we’re delighted to share an original piece from , author of The Full Moon Yearbook, Maiden, Warrior, Mother, Crone, and Witch, Healer Priestess, Outcast - read on to absorb yourself in the magic of this transitional month.

Cosmic Rhythms

Once upon a time, we kept the rhythm of the year not by calendar days, but by moons. Each cycle was named for its full moon: February’s moon was called the Moon of Ice in Celtic culture, and the Storm Moon in Wiccan and English Medieval tradition. The Chinese knew it as the Budding Moon, a time when the first hints of spring would appear, letting us know that the world would, indeed, warm up again one day.

February 1st is important as the halfway point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. It’s not springtime yet, but we’ve made it halfway out of the darkest part of the year, and we can feel a little hope poking out at the surface, depending, of course, on where we live and what the weather looks like.

The Groundhog’s Decree

Groundhog Day is a sweet little celebration beloved in many parts of the world, especially in North America. Every February 2nd, crowds of people bundle up to watch a groundhog named things like Punxutawney Phil, Wiarton Willie, Balzac Billy, or Buckeye Chuck pop out of his burrow. If he is scared by his shadow and runs back into his hole, we can expect six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, we can look forward to an early spring.

Many cold Canadians (like me) wait on tenterhooks every year to see what Shubenacadie Sam and his cohort will predict about the possibility of an early spring. No one ever holds the little guys accountable, of course, when their predictions fail. It’s tradition all the same.

What I didn’t know until doing my research for The Full Moon Yearbook is that this tradition is rooted in ancient Celtic folklore and pagan tradition. The cross-quarter midway point of the season was always a day for weather divination in its various forms. There’s even a story about it from the Celtic tradition featuring the wizened winter goddess, the Cailleach (pronounced kay-lee-ack, among other ways).

The Cailleach Beara is the goddess of winter, the creatrix of the world itself, an ice world blanketed in snow. She was a giant, an old woman with one all-seeing eye and rusted teeth the red of blood. It is said that each year she battles Brigid, the beautiful young goddess of fire and springtime, who takes over at Beltane (May 1st) until the Cailleach gains hold again at Samhain (October 31st, the autumnal cross-quarter day).

On Imbolc (February 1st), the Cailleach leaves her cave to collect firewood, aiming to sustain herself for a long reign over winter. If the sun is shining (enough to scare a groundhog with his shadow) she collects plenty, strengthening herself for a nice long winter. If it’s cloudy or stormy (too dark for a groundhog’s shadow), she stays in bed, forgetting the firewood, allowing Brigid the upper hand to end winter sooner.

It delights me to discover that the silly local Groundhog Day tradition is rooted in ancient witchcraft, land-based knowing, and mythology from my ancestry. We may have forgotten the roots of our practices, but on some level we still know them, still practice them, still delight in their resonances for our everyday lives. Maybe sometimes I’ll think of February as the month of the Groundhog Moon.

Punxsutawney Phil the Groundhog has indeed delivered his verdict on how much longer into 2026 the winter will last. After three polite knocks on the door of Phil’s stump, he was gently brought out by his handler and held aloft to the adoring crowd of thousands that had gathered together on that freezing morning to hear his decree.

All stood by with bated breath as Phil was placed on the stump, where he carefully considered the two scrolls laid before him before selecting one, which was interpreted for the masses by a member of the Inner Circle: Punxsutawney Phil had seen his shadow, and winter will prevail for 6 more weeks. (If you are so inclined, you can watch the spellbinding moment at the link here.)

If you enjoyed this original article by , you can head to her Substack publication or read her books for more enchanting folklore and mythical wisdom; In The Full Moon Yearbook, you can explore a year of rituals and healing under the silvery light of the full moon.

Make sure that you subscribe to keep up with our month of magic - can you guess what the next story is about? Here’s a hint - this topic is one of the world’s most used conversation pieces.

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Instead of letting the bleak weather get us down, we’re embarking on a month of magic: follow along for fascinating folklore and original stories from 4 of our authors here at Verbena Books.

We’re kicking off Folklore February with a special piece written especially for you by the amazing , author of The Solstice Yearbook! Absorb yourself in the magical heritage of today, the 2nd of February.

Can you feel a change in the air? With January behind us, and the Winter Solstice firmly in the past, this month brings a small, but significant, change in energy as we move towards the Spring Equinox. After months of darkness, it finally feels like we’re gently shaking off of the hibernation layer. Taking a slow, leisurely stretch.

Although this month can still be very cold and brisk, if you look carefully all the tiny markers of very early spring are there. Buds are appearing on trees, bright yellow Hazel catkins are visible in the hedgerow and snowdrops and hellebores are quietly pushing through the ground. The wheel is turning and bringing us out of our winter hibernation.

In the folklore calendar the 2nd of February was a significant date, celebrated with the festival of Candlemas. This ancient Christian festival was a time of purification, cleansing and candlelight. It falls exactly halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, marking a clear transition from one to the other. If you believe that the Winter Solstice marks Midwinter, and the Spring Equinox marks the middle of spring, then today marks the magical moment we cross the threshold from winter to spring.

In the folk calendar it was traditional to take candles to church on this date to be blessed for the coming year. You could then pass these candles on to a friend, or keep them as a talisman for the coming year to be lit any time you need a little extra luck or hope. Traditionally Candlemas was also the day to take down any remaining Christmas decorations and pack them away, officially ending the Christmas period and sweeping the slate clean for a fresh start to the year.

Snowdrops are out in force this month, and these have long been associated with Candlemas; one of their folklore names is Candlemas Bells. Their clean white flower heads and fresh green stems are a perfect symbol of the bright, fresh energy of this month. Although, according to folklore, they should never be picked or carried indoors but left outside and admired in their natural setting instead.

Some say the rituals of lighting candles, spring cleaning and gently closing out the winter at Candlemas were based on an earlier pre-Christian festival of light. Because there are no written records we can’t know this for sure, but sweeping the winter dust away and filling this month with clean, white candlelight feels entirely appropriate as the light returns and everything starts to feel brighter and fresher.

Because of the way the date falls so neatly between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, Candlemas has an important role to play in the solar calendar. For those that follow the wheel of the year, the calendar is divided into eight parts; the four big fire festivals of the Summer Solstice, Autumn Equinox, Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, as well as the four dates that fall exactly in between these, known as cross-quarter days. Each of these moments in the year are a chance to mark the waxing or waning power of the sun.

Candlemas is one of these cross-quarter days and it’s the first chance we get to celebrate the growing strength of the sun after the shortest day of the Winter Solstice. Every day since the Winter Solstice we’ve gained a few more minutes of light, but February is the month where this really starts to become noticeable and Candlemas is the moment to acknowledge and celebrate it.

The folk rituals of this month are simple and lovely and I think they bridge the gap nicely between the roaring fires and rich feasts of the Winter Solstice and the bright, colourful rituals of the Spring Equinox. As a festival day Candlemas is peaceful and understated, and all the more relaxing for it. You can celebrate in any way that feels meaningful to you.

I’ll be lighting a candle, looking for snowdrops (but not picking them!) and counting the minutes of daylight.

Happy Candlemas!

— Vicky

Did you enjoy this original piece from ? Head over to her Substack profile today for more beautiful musings, and take a look at her recently published title The Solstice Yearbook for a whole year of rituals, festivals and ancient magic for modern life.

Folklore February is only just beginning, and we have a whole month of magic in store for you! Make sure you subscribe to receive an enchanting collection of stories right into your inbox, or follow to keep up with us here on the app - can you guess the theme of the next tale?

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This February, we invite you to forget the frost and dive into the magical world of folklore with us. Throughout the month, we’ll be sharing ancient folklore from around the world, including five brand new bonus stories from some of our flagship authors here at Verbena Books! Not only that, but we’re going to end the month by giving away a HUGE bundle of books - stay tuned.

Why Do We Love to Tell Stories in Winter?

Traditionally, winter is the most popular time of the year to share folklore stories: humans have never shaken the instinctive urge to spend the long, dark nights swapping spellbinding tales by the warm glow of the fireside.

But these fables don’t just exist to keep us entertained and inspired during the cold months. Throughout history, winter has been perceived as the time during which the veil between life and death is the thinnest, especially around the solstice. This period naturally provides the perfect setting to share supernatural tales, a custom that was overwhelmingly popular in the Victorian era, when families would often spend Christmas telling ghost stories.

In the modern day we don’t follow these traditions quite so deliberately, but the need is certainly still there. People around the world love to watch horror movies in winter, and a recent study by The Cosy Scholar found that 40.85% of respondents read more during the cold months than during the rest of the year.

Look into the World Beyond

We’re determined to uphold this folkloric heritage, and throughout February we’re going to be immersing ourselves into the world of history and magic with fantastical stories that are endlessly revealing about their cultures of origin.

Follow along as we journey through the myths and legends of each realm with enchanting fables of sky, land, sea and beyond. We have a captivating collection of tales lined up for you, including brand new stories written specifically for Folklore February by four of our wonderful authors!

You’re going to have to wait and see exactly what treats we have in store, but we couldn’t resist dropping some hints. Take a look at the cryptic clues below and see if you can guess the themes of each story…

The first instalment of Folklore February lands on Monday the 2nd, and we’re kicking off with a tale written especially for you by an author that we know you love. Don’t miss out - subscribe now to kickstart your month of magic. ✨

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With those words, Margaret Baker began Gardener’s Folklore. First published in 1976, this work is a charming exploration of the myth and magic to be found in gardens across Britain and North America.

Determined to keep the folklore of this book grounded in living and breathing contemporary beliefs, Margaret Baker appealed to the readers of various magazines and newspapers across Britain, the Republic of Ireland and North America to write in. The result was an inundation of sincere, warm letters from gardeners across the Western world who cherished their superstitions dearly: Gardener’s Folklore is a record of those customs, immortalising the fables of the everyman that had been passed down from generation to generation.

As we enjoy the ancient secrets of old-time gardeners, it is easy to wonder about Margaret Baker herself - what does this enchanting book reveal about the author behind the words?

When Amanda Edmiston, author of The Time Traveller’s Herbal (and upcoming Collected Curiosities) was asked to narrate the Gardener’s Folklore audiobook, she had the very same thought. Being such a prolific and knowledgeable figure in the world of folklore, we’re led to imagine that Margaret’s life was rich with magic and whimsy: take a journey through Margaret’s world with Amanda in this vignette inspired by Gardener’s Folklore…

When I was first invited to narrate Gardener’s Folklore by Margaret Baker, I was delighted. As a herbal storyteller myself, I had turned to her books as a resource for many years. Now, though, I wanted to find out about the woman whose work I was about to share. She was clearly a private individual and there wasn’t much to go on, so I decided instead to create a little imagined vignette based on the personal notes within her books, a point where I could begin to relate to her and develop a deeper understanding of her work - here is that vignette for you to enjoy:

Westlothiana lizziae, an early ammonite, was once thought to be one of the world’s oldest known reptile fossils. This incredible, liminal creature had both amphibian and reptilian features, and was discovered in East Kirkton Quarry, near Bathgate in central Scotland’s industrial heartlands. Unearthed in the late 1980’s, shortly after Margaret Baker completed Gardener’s Folklore, I imagine her reading the news of this discovery, her interest piqued by the fossil’s location…

As I started researching the personal history of this fascinating folklorist and author, I couldn’t help but reflect on one of the few aspects I knew about her life: her trips to visit her four aunts in this very part of East Lothian, a place with an ancient past and rich social history that may have contributed to her interests and style as a writer later in life.

She was an observant and prolific writer, author of at least 23 books, who used correspondence and oral histories as a primary source. One of her key interests was the traditional uses, rituals and customs surrounding plants: she was a woman who was clearly fascinated by folklore’s ability to connect people to place.

So, I now want you to imagine nine-year-old Peggy running down through East Kirkton back to the cottages where her four aunts live, clutching the frond-like shape of Spathulopteris, a fossilised fern. It is 1938, and she has uncovered the specimen not far from the remains of the nearby limestone quarry, where the piles of discarded shale also yield fossils.

I imagine one of those aunts, maybe a former suffragette or perhaps missing a beau lost in WWI, now marching across the adjacent Bathgate hills. As she walks, she tells her niece about the sight-healing Eyebright flowering amongst the scrub, encourages the girl to search for stone arrowheads in the nearby iron-age hillforts, and regales her with stories of ancient warrior queens and magical charms. Certainly, Margaret remembered being told how the Rowan trees that marked the front doors of her aunt’s cottages were planted as protective guardians, and she shared that knowledge with her readers many years later.

Maybe that special fern fossil inspired locals to retell stories of the plant’s seeds and their potential to grant invisibility, and young Peggy began to wonder what other magics the everyday plants that lined her family’s garden paths might yield.

Perhaps that’s what inspired her to keep asking questions, writing letters, and sharing folklore as she got older, gathering colloquial knowledge alongside literary findings (as I have with my own work) that been built on, cited and embellished by many wonderful practitioners over the last forty years

I imagine all of this as I leaf through the pages of Margaret Baker’s books, seeking answers to my questions about her own life and practice, uncovering fragments of her journey hidden within the letters she refers to and the images she shares from her later life: in one example from the late 1990’s, she describes a recently acquired Sycamore leaf patterned biscuit tin, and meanderings in her own garden - an intriguing glimpse into the hidden aspects of the writer’s world.

There is more to uncover, but much is revealed just by reading Margaret’s books, and there will doubtless be new stories to share about this woman whose fascination with the folklore of plants, gardens, sculpture, rituals and festivals, captured a moment in time. A moment just as humankind took one of it’s dizzying lurches forward, and cherished lore threatened to be lost.

But for now, join me as we take an enchanting walk into Margaret Baker’s beautiful garden...

Did you enjoy this peek into the imagined life of Margaret Baker? A world of magic and folklore waits for you in Gardener’s Folklore and Folklore of the Sea.

Together, these timeless volumes explore the deep-rooted traditions, beliefs and customs that have shaped how we interact with both land and sea. Whether you’re a green-fingered gardener seeking ancient wisdom or a maritime enthusiast intrigued by sailor’s superstitions, this beautifully written and newly illustrated collection offers a rich and fascinating insight into the folk knowledge passed down through generations.

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You can further explore the enchanting herbal storytelling of Amanda Edmiston with The Time Traveller’s Herbal, a mystical collection of stories and recipes from the ancient apothecary cabinet.

Steeped in history, the herbalist’s art proved the way for modern science - but it didn’t necessarily need to have been replaced by it. In this wonderfully unique book, the traditional remedies and recipes that have been passed down through the ages are offered to the modern reader as a means to reconnect with the natural world, while reaping the benefits.

Including instructions for over 25 recipes using commonly found, foraged or easily procured ingredients, Amanda weaves a story through each make to captivate the modern reader.

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Moon, sun and stars

The moon’s phases

The ‘new moon’ marks the start of the lunar cycle and is reached at slightly varying intervals round a mean of 291/2 days, a lunar month, during which time the moon travels once round the earth. The revolution brings her once again into the same position relative to the sun and the earth. The moon shines by reflecting the sun’s light: at new moon her dark side faces the earth—she lies roughly between the earth and the sun—but as she waxes, more and more of the sunlit side comes into view, until at full—when she is at the far side of the earth from the sun—the whole of her sunlit face is turned towards the earth.

In gardeners’ parlance the period from new to full moon (the waxing, making or increase) is the ‘light of the moon’; the period from full to new (the waning, wasting or decrease) the ‘dark of the moon’. The year’s moons are seasonal benchmarks. Traditionally the May moon is the ‘plant moon’ when trees and plants burst into leaf; the April moon is the ‘germination moon’, time for seed-sowing; the frosty January moon benefits ploughed soil. In the old days it was said that timber or fruit tree props cut at the solstitial December or Christmas moon when the sap was down could be relied upon to endure for ever. At the nearest full moon to the autumnal equinox, most noticeably in high latitudes, for several evenings in succession the golden and glowing ‘harvest moon’ rises at much the same time, just as the sun sets. Daylight and full moon meet, giving extra light once acclaimed as a divine boon to aid crop gathering.

Consult the moon

Moon phase planting lore is bolstered on the one hand with immutabilities and shot through on the other with personal fancies and misunderstandings, as is inevitable in superstitions passed orally through many generations. Moon beliefs may be traced for thousands of years: the Greeks and Romans believed that sap in plants waxed and waned in monthly unison with the moon and, almost identically, in England, in The Discoverie of Witchcraft (1584) Reginald Scot wrote: ‘The poor husbandman perceiveth that the increase of the moon maketh plants fruitful so as in the fulle moon they are in best strength, decaying in the wane and in the conjunction do entirely wither and fade.’

One doctrine appearing consistently in North America and Britain is that, by imitative magic, moon growth stimulates plant growth and that seeds sown or plants set during the growing moon will emulate her. Some advocate planting in the days immediately preceding the new moon so that seeds will have germinated and will be ready to grow as the moon begins to wax. Thomas Tusser, farmer-writer of the Elizabethan period, believed this and wrote:

Lettuces and cabbages, sown two days before full moon and two days before new, were pricked out and transplanted at the same phases. At harvest time the younger ‘full-moon plants’, three times heavier, had firmer heads and yielded from 30 to 40 per cent more than the loosely built ‘new-moon plants’. Over a five-year test period peas planted two days before full moon gave from 70 to 100 per cent better yields. New-moon peas withered and yellowed earlier. Full-moon tomatoes showed better yields by at least 60 per cent over new- moon plants. Dr Kolisko wrote: ‘From the experiments of many years we can recommend with good conscience that tomatoes should be sown two days before Full Moon.’

Growing magic

First fruits

Lest a fruit tree that is bearing for the first time be discouraged, its fruit must be gathered with ceremony; in Normandy, first fruits were never picked at all but left as a hostage to future performance. The first fruits of each season emblematize plenty to come. Harold Nicolson spoke in his Diary of the silent prayer he was always moved to murmur at the first cuckoo, the first asparagus and the first green peas of the season and found it strange that a man so rational and urbane as he could feel such stirrings. In Michigan the first strawberry must never be eaten—‘throw it where a bird will have it’—a genuflection to old gods. When the first new potatoes of the Scottish season were dug it was important for each member of the family to have a taste—or the crop would rot: often roots were named for father, mother and children and the year’s prosperity deduced from the potatoes to be counted on each.

Wassailing the orchard

Until the early twentieth century the custom of wassailing—from the Old English wes hál—‘be in good health’—intended to encourage fruit trees to bear, was observed in many fruit-growing districts of England. It was an orchard rather than a garden custom, but there is also evidence of its practice on a quieter, more domestic scale. Its season ran from Christmas Day, 25 December, to Old Twelfth Day, 18 January, although Old Christmas Eve, 5 January, was perhaps the most usual day for the celebration, when the farmer and his men, carrying a jug of mulled cider, went into the winter orchard under dark skies and drank a cheerful toast by the best tree, in words such as:

The company bowed in salutation, rising heavily as though with sacks of fruit; cider was tossed over the roots and pieces of toast laid in the branches for the ‘robin’ (some said to Pomona, goddess of fruit-trees); and the party fired a salvo of rook-shot through the bare branches to awaken the tree-spirit to fresh endeavours. Robert Herrick, the Devon poet, explained expectations thus:

As well as a welcome chance to prolong Christmas fun, an underlying sense of magic vital to apple husbandry accompanied the ceremony. A witness to Devon wassailing introduced it in the 1970s to the great apple-growing region of Yakima, Washington, but many felt that the superstitious unsophisticated form was the more attractive. A Horsted Keynes, Sussex, woman remembered that as a child early in the twentieth century her grandfather had given her a penny to ‘howl’ or wassail his solitary garden apple-tree and to beat it with a stick; and in Surrey boys visited every tree in the garden, inserting the words ‘mulberry’, ‘nut’, ‘fig’ or ‘currant’ into their song, as required. The beehives were not forgotten.

Witchcraft and the supernatural

Garden ghosts

There are hundreds of garden ghosts. A cottage at Braishfield, Hampshire, is haunted by the ghost of a woman who buried her fortune in the garden but was unable to reveal its whereabouts to her friends before she died. Her phantom has been seen by several living persons and once, when the weather was perfectly calm and clear, tall flowers in a border through which she passed were struck as if by a small cyclone. Dogs passing a certain yew tree from which she emanates pause to growl, although nothing is to be seen. Other treasure-hunting ghosts haunt the gardens of Sykes Lumb farmhouse, Lancashire, and Byewater House, Boldre, in the New Forest, England. A ‘boggart’ or domestic fairy, who lived on a farm at Hothersall, Ribchester, played many tricks on the household, upset carts, caused butter not to ‘take’ and turned horses loose, until the knowledgeable farmer contrived to ‘lay’ the persecutor under a large laurel tree in the farm garden; since it was agreed that the troublemaker could not rise again while the tree lived, the farmer took the trouble to water the laurel often with milk to keep it in good health. (Some incantations for laying boggarts provided for their interment ‘so long as hollies are green’; that is, for ever.)

Gardeners return to former scenes. The garden of the Rectory, Pimperne, Dorset, is haunted by the ghosts of an old gardener and his dog who move across the lawn before vanishing. Sussex friends told the writer of an experience in the mid 1950s. They maintained a two-acre garden with the help of an elderly local man who had worked for the garden all his life and who had many stories of plantings, wall-buildings and unexpected frosts. He died, still working, at the age of 82 and, while this was a great blow, his employers carried on alone. One day the wife, after a long day pricking-out seedlings, left the potting shed in disarray. To her surprise on the following morning she found everything in perfect order, with seedboxes neatly stacked and sand and earth swept away. She imagined that her husband must have paid an early visit to the shed before leaving for the office, and intended to reprove him for bringing out his old pipe, for she had detected a whiff of tobacco smoke in the shed. But when her husband returned he said he had been late leaving that morning and had certainly not delayed to visit the garden. The state of the shed was never explained but on several occasions during the first summer after the old gardener’s death she had similar experiences, finding tools tidily returned to their racks and order restored, with always a touch of tobacco smoke in the air. It was decided that the gardener had not left quite so finally as it had at first seemed.

The Gardener’s Folklore

The ancient secrets for gardening magic

Collecting the scattered seeds of myth and folklore, Gardener’s Folklore unveils the magic to be found in the gardens of Britain and North America. Compiled from letters sent by gardeners to the author Margaret Baker, travel through generations of sayings and knowledge that you have perhaps heard before but not known their true meanings or origins. From garden ghosts and lunar phases to traditions and predictions, Gardener’s Folklore is a treasure chest for anyone with a green thumb and love for tales.

Don’t forget about our January sale! You can get 30% off of a range of mind body soul titles, as well as a number of craft books. What better time is there to embark on a spiritual journey or pick up a new hobby than January?

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The new charm for Killin was commissioned by a beautiful heritage sight in Scotland’s Perthshire countryside, The Old Mill in Killin, a place with fascinating folklore and a long tradition of healing. It was created following extensive research to try to see if there were any traditional recorded words or sayings, spoken word charms or blessings associated with the tradition of lustration: of washing the stones in the Falls of Dochart annually and re-bedding them in fresh river wrack.

Writer Amanda Edmiston (Botanica Fabula) has worked with the Old Mill Killin on intergenerational projects (Story Spinning and The Schools 65th birthday celebrations) in the village of Killin for over five years, and has spent a lot of time talking to older residents in the community and former residents further afield, gathering oral histories of the village for her project the Kist in Thyme, which took social history and stories of Scottish folk traditions to The National Museum of Rural Life and The Ashmolean Museum in Oxford amongst others and contributed elements to Amanda’s first book: The Time Traveller’s Herbal.

Unfortunately, none of these projects offered any further traditions associated with the healing stones, which are kept in the Old Mill and are said to have been gifted to the village by St Fillan, other than the still observed Christmas Eve washing and re-bedding. Older oral histories contained in the School of Scottish studies archive were the same. Former mill owner Graham Wilson and Killin’s William Walker were both recorded in 1964 as saying they only knew of the tradition as it stands today and whilst there are mentions of the healing traditions surrounding the stones recorded in the studies and research of MacLagan, MacNeill and others, they do not add anything other than what we already know. You can listen to Wilson’s account on Tobar an Dualchais here!

To this end Amanda wrote a new blessing with regard for historic form and traditional patterns associated with words that can maybe transmit a little magic and meaning to objects and situations…

You may spot that there are three verses, each is six lines long and Fillan is mentioned in each verse, so three times, and the words also ask the listeners to subconsciously start feeling better and to consider the power of the stones to enhance their health. So without even realising, the charm will have started to work as the words are spoken and heard!

Sources informing the piece include the 9th or 10th century Merseburg incantation, which has recorded variants in Ireland, Orkney and Shetland associated with healing sprains. The collected works of Alexander Carmichael held in the Carmina Gadelica (1900), in particular the Lustration (associated with washing or cleansing with water) and the Charm of Lasting Life, which both had elements appropriate to the many healing possibilities for Fillan’s stones.

Amanda is hugely grateful to Stirlingshire based teacher, Gaelic speaker and choir leader Mhairi MacKay for translating her poem from English into Gaelic, and hopes that everyone takes this new piece of writing in the spirit in which it is intended; to carry on the traditions, innate beauty and healing associated with our ancient folklore, memories and stories.

You will be able to discover more stories surrounding seers and folk remedies associated with Killin, rural Perthshire and further afield in her next book: Collected Curiosities which will be out in May 2026, published by Verbena.

The Time Traveller’s Herbal

Stories and recipes from the historical apothecary cabinet

With over 25 recipes and makes using commonly found, foraged or easily procured ingredients, author Amanda Edmiston weaves a story through the recipes about the craft of the herbalist, tapping into the traditional knowledge passed down through generations and reworking it for the modern reader. If you’re a budding apothecary, intrigued historian, or just someone with a love for botany and tales, The Time Traveller’s Herbal will connect you in new ways to the past and to the nature you see every day. The Time Traveller’s Herbal is available to order here!

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Ancient Egypt

Cats have a major place in many cultures, religions, and mythologies. In ancient Egypt, cats were loved and admired for their rodent and pest control and for protecting agriculture. But cats weren’t just important in Egypt for getting rid of venomous snakes or pesky birds; they were thought to be symbols of good luck and protection, and Egyptians also believed that the cat was a manifestation of the goddess Bastet. Bastet was worshipped by the Egyptians because she protected their families and homes—she is the goddess of fertility, joy, beauty, and love, and over time her association to cats became with wild and domestic cats, especially black cats. Because of this and just how special they were in ancient Egypt, if a man injured a cat he would be punished and if he were to end one’s life, even accidentally, he would quite possibly be sentenced to death.

You might’ve seen statues of cats in museums from ancient Egypt or pictures in history books of mummified cats. Again, this is because of their associations with goddesses and Bastet in particular—they were given as gifts which is why archaeologists have found so many mummified cats in burial sites across Egypt, including hundreds of thousands in prominent worship sites for the Goddess Bastet. People also mummified their cats to honour them and bring them as companions in the afterlife.

Japanese mythology

You’ve probably seen a little golden or white cat with a waving paw in various shops—this is the maneki-neko. Commonly thought to be Chinese, these figurines are actually Japanese with the name translating to “beckoning cat”, describing the motion it makes that is in fact not a wave. There are many legends and tales behind the origin of the maneki-neko, but they are generally believed to be bringers of good luck and fortune.

There is a deep-rooted belief in Japan that cats are powerful with both malevolent and benevolent roles. A prominent cat of Japanese mythology is the bakeneko, a malevolent creature that is said to be able to shapeshift into human form or turn into a demon, using its powers to bend others to their will. A cat would only become a bakeneko when it reached 13 years old and weighed more than 3.5kg, or if it had a large tail. In fact, it became a trend to cut off the tails of kittens to prevent them from turning into something monstrous or evil. The bakeneko can look like any other cat, but its abilities are anything other than ordinary; it’s said that the bakeneko can stand up on its hind legs, shape shift, and disguise itself, even able to take the form of its own masters to take control of the house! The list doesn’t stop there; the bakeneko can bring curses and misfortune, manipulate or raise the dead, speak human language, and project fireballs. It’s no wonder that the bakeneko is feared!

The Japanese bobtail breed is believed to bring good luck—this is the cat associate with the maneki-neko—and black cats especially are associated with good luck and fortune, believed to bring unmarried women desirable suitors. Cats are everywhere in Japanese art and tales, and their extensive love-hate relationship makes for a fascinating deep dive!

Celtic mythology

The main legend about cats in Celtic mythology is the Cat Sìth—Cat Sidhe in Gaelic. Like many things with the Celts, cats have magical qualities with the Cat Sìth being associated with the supernatural. The Cat Sìth was a fairy creature who supposedly haunted the Scottish Highlands, often depicted as a black cat with a white chest spot and as big as a dog. According to legend, the Cat Sìth were known for stealing the souls of the dead, particularly those unburied and unclaimed by the gods—this is why people tried to keep cats away from the dead and places such as funeral parlours, distracting the Cat Sìth in various ways until the body was safely buried. As the Cat Sìth were attracted to warmth, they’d also keep the corpse in a cold room to deter them.

It was a common belief that the Cat Sìth were actually witches and that they could transform into a cat nine times, but the final time they transformed would be their last and they’d stay a cat forever. This quite possibly contributed to the idea that cats have nine lives! On Samhain (Halloween), the veil between life and death is at its thinnest, so it’s not surprise that the Cat Sìth would cross over and prowl the earth, stealing milk from cows and rendering them useless. This is why it became tradition to leave out saucers of milk on Samhain for the Cat Sìth to drink in the hope that the Cat Sìth would bless them, protecting the house and those living in it. Those who didn’t offer milk would risk being cursed and having their cows’ milk dry up.

Black cats

You’ve probably been told that if a black cat crosses your path, bad luck will follow. Or that black cats are signs of evil, are Satan’s companions, or witches’ counterparts. Because of these superstitions, black cats are more likely than any other coat colour to end up in shelters and are generally the least likely to get adopted. But why have we let these superstitions get this far, allowing for black cats to continue suffering because of them? This fear of black cats runs deep, shown in Greek mythology but more widely popularised in Medieval times.

Once Christianity arrived in Europe and began overtaking pagan customs, many things that were previously signs of good luck or the divine were then linked negatively to witchcraft and the devil. This is why the Middle Ages were a particularly bad time for black cats; they weren’t just signs of bad luck, but counterparts of evil and even incarnations of the devil. This led to black cats being targeted for horrible violence, so much so that the black cat population plummeted to the point of impacting the rodent population. As time progressed, with superstitions about witches growing as well, black cats became more thoroughly associated with witches. Whether as familiars, witches in disguise, or spies, black cats became increasingly endangered with these beliefs travelling to the American colonies, as they became a popular link to accused witches.

This was not always the case. In some places, a black cat crossing your path is not a sign of bad luck but instead signified good fortune coming your way. In ancient Egypt, as we’ve already explored, black cats were held in high esteem because of their resemblance to Bastet. In many Asian countries, such as China and Japan, black cats are considered good luck, protective, and symbols of good fortune, with the idea that if a single woman in Japan owns a black cat, she’ll be lucky in finding love!

Black cats are so much more than their superstitions. They are loving, protective, and intelligent companions, just waiting for someone to love them and to have a family to boss around. Don’t let past beliefs stop you from loving black cats, and if you’re thinking of adopting a cat, don’t overlook these mistreated beauties.

The Magick of Cats

The cat lover’s guide to enchanted feline energy

The history of cats is vast, with mythologies about their supernatural powers and old wives tales about the good and bad fortune they might bring. In The Magick of Cats, you can learn about their seven magical powers; healing, protection, independence, affirmation, communication, the supernatural, and connection, and their legends in different cultures. With The Magick of Cats, dive into meditations, rituals, affirmations, and spells to tap into their enchanting powers, and discover how cats straddle both the human and the supernatural world with their connection to the Wheel of the Year and astrology. You can order your own copy of this beautiful title here!

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A. J. Pazolt, purser of the square-rigger Garthpool, bound from Belfast to Australia in 1928, left a warming account of Christmas at sea in the roaring forties. At midnight, preceded by a boy with a lantern, Father Christmas called at every cabin with carols and presents. Pazolt was roused by a gift of fine cigars thrust on to his berth. Father Christmas then went forrard with gifts for the crew and ‘Christmas peace settled over the dark ship’. Careful shaves, neat ties and white shirts formally honoured Christmas Day and with breakfast – a ‘royal meal’ of bacon, fresh eggs from the ship’s hens, and canned pears – went the distribution of gifts from the captain’s wife: an alarm clock for the skipper; good coffee for a connoisseur. Festive yarning, Christmas toasts and a great game of deck quoits occupied the forenoon; then dinner, also celebratory, with soup, tongue, plum duff and brandy sauce (the cook’s private consumption of pudding brandy was such that he could hardly stand!), cheese, nuts, sweets, paper-hats and crackers. In the great Southern Ocean, thoughts turned homewards with ‘Absent Friends! A Happy Christmas to Them All!’ Thus passed Christmas on one of the last voyages ever made to the Antipodes by a British square-rigger.

Struggling round the Cape of Good Hope at Christmas 1897, Captain Slocum wrote: ‘On this day Spray was trying to stand on her head, and she gave me every reason to believe that she would accomplish the feat before night!’ ‘For a Christmas box’ Spray ducked her skipper under water three times while he was reefing the jib. He was delighted by a big English steamer which signalled ‘Wishing you a Merry Christmas’ – ‘I think the captain was a humorist: his own ship was throwing her propeller out of the water’.

Ships of the Royal Navy, evergreens mastheaded, observe Christmas with a pudding often stirred in the making by the captain’s wife and the youngest sailor on board; and, echoing the Middle Ages when prelates and choristers changed roles and the Roman Saturnalia when master waited on man, ranks reverse. Sea Cadet Michael Cotton, embarked at Gibraltar in HMS Rhyl for Christmas dinner in 1976, found himself ‘captain’, and as his first official act fined the real commanding officer, Commander K. G. Lees, one bottle of champagne for being ‘improperly dressed’ – capless on the flight-deck; and in HMS Bronington, commanded by Lieutenant the Prince of Wales, the crew’s 1976 Christmas dinner was served by ‘captain for the day’ Leading Steward Ron Patterson, wearing the royal ‘woolly-pully’ – the navy’s uniform sweater.

Another custom nearly caused an international incident. In World War II Archbishop Damaskinos, tall, black-bearded, in the flowing robes and high hat of the Greek church, arrived on board HMS Ajax (Captain J. W. Cuthbert, RN) at Piraeus on Christmas Day, to discuss Greece’s future. To everyone’s horror the ship’s Christmas ‘Funny Party’ – Coco the Clown, Charlie Chaplin and a hula-hula girl, lights flashing on either nipple – hove into view. Recognising a rival in their trade they howled their applause round the astonished archbishop who, disposed to suspect a mortal insult, was only placated by the interpreter’s most strenuous efforts!

In another relic of reversed roles, ‘. . . the oldest man in the ship, be he admiral or jack-of-the-dust, strikes eight bells at midnight on 31 December,’ wrote Lieutenant-Commander Leland P. Lovette, USN, of the departing Old Year and the arriving New. Immediately afterwards the youngest sailor strikes eight bells for the New Year. On US ships the first log entry, by tradition, is in verse. Thus wrote Lieutenant Commander L. Wells of USS R. E. Byrd on 31 December 1976:

Folklore of the Sea

Myths and legends of the maritime world

The sea is home to more than just wildlife— there are stories, myths, and legends rolling with each wave just waiting to be explored! With stunning illustrations by Philip Harris, you’ll find yourself getting lost within the words written by the brilliant Margaret Baker that are inspired by the mysterious waves, famous ships, and curious taboos of the past. If you enjoyed this short, festive excerpt, you can discover more intriguing tales to do with creatures, gods, customs, and more in Folklore of the Sea, available to order here!

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La Befana in Italy

This tradition actually takes place after Christmas on January 5^th, known to many Christians as Epiphany Eve. On this night, children across Italy anticipate a visit from La Befana, an elderly woman who resembles a witch wrapped in a dark shawl, wearing a kerchief on her head, and riding or carrying a broom! Children will leave out stockings, waiting for the arrival of La Befana and hoping that they’ve been good enough to receive a gift or treat. But, for those that haven’t been quite so good, they can expect chunks of coal, garlic, and even onions! However, that coal is often made of sugar and chocolate, serving as a gentle reminder to do better next year while also keeping everyone happy. La Befana is a benevolent figure of warmth and love, and her visit marks the end of the Christmas season in Italy that is widely celebrated.

La Befana has both Christian and Pagan roots, creating a blended figure for many to enjoy. In the Christian tale, La Befana was a woman who lived at the same time as the birth of Jesus and was visited by the Three Wise Men. They asked her for directions and she provided them with shelter, declining their offer to join them on their journey and only changing her mind when it was too late. La Befana tried to find them with her broom and basket of gifts for the child but had no luck. So, in this version of the tale, La Befana is still searching for the baby, leaving treats and toys for well-behaved children in the hopes that she will find the child.

Many believe, though, that while the Epiphany stems from Christianity (the name “Befana” supposedly being derived from the Italian word “Epifania”), this folklore figure goes all the way back to ancient pagan propitiatory rites inherited by the Romans! One possible source of Befana’s origin is Strenua, the goddess of the new year (also known as Strenia and Strena). Strenua gave sweet gifts of similar nature to Befana, and was honoured to bring wellbeing and a healthy harvest. It’s thought that La Befana’s name could be a derivative of “Bastrina”, which was the word for the gifts associated with those given to Strenua during new year celebrations. Another source could be Diana, the Roman goddess of hunting, wild animals, the moon, and more. During this time of year and most importantly on the Twelfth Night, mysterious female figures said to sometimes be led by Diana would fly over newly sown fields on broomsticks to make them fertile and ready for the next harvest. These pagan roots mixed together with Christian stories have created the tradition of La Befana, and no matter her true origin, she does not wish to be found or seen, so if she catches you trying, be prepared for her to thump you with her broom.

The Krampus

Big, hairy, and scary with horns on their heads and carrying chains—can you guess what we’re talking about, or rather, who we’re talking about? The Krampus! With their haunting exterior and echoing bells, the Krampus can be seen come December in multiple European countries and cultures, making any child hope that they’ve been good enough to avoid their path. Thought to be a counterpart to St. Nicholas, the Krampus visited naughty children on 5 December, punishing them by swatting them with birch branches or even stuffing them into his sack and carrying them away. But before Krampus was tied to St. Nicholas and a Christian Christmas, he was a prevalent figure in pagan celebrations of the winter solstice! Said to be the son of Hel—the ruler of the realm of the dead in Norse mythology—it’s suggested that Krampus was once used to ward off malevolent spirits, helping people to overcome their fears. The Catholic Church actually tried to ban Krampus celebrations due to his resemblance to the devil, but like many pagan traditions and figures, Krampus persisted, now known for his blend of both Christian and pagan folklore.

Iceland’s thirteen Yule Lads

Iceland seems to be a popular country for us to visit this festive season; after exploring their tradition of Jólabókaflóð, and embarking on our own book swap inspired by it (which you can find out about here), this time we explore Iceland’s thirteen days of Christmas and the thirteen Yule Lads (Jólasveinar). With the 12^th of December comes the beginning of thirteen visits on thirteen nights, with gangly, Nordic Christmas elves descending one by one from the mountains to give gifts with a hint of mischief. These days they’re seen more as hearty troublemakers that spread joy, but that wasn’t always the case! The legends have changed a lot throughout history, but it is widely recognised that each Yule Lad has a different name and gets up to something specific each night.

On December 12 you’ll see Stekkjastaur (Sheep-Cote Clod), who is said to sneak into barns and suck the milk from sheep! The next night, December 13, we have Giljagaur (Gully Gawk), who isn’t quite fond of sheep’s milk so opts for cow’s milk instead—especially the froth! Then we have Stúfur (Stubby) on December 14, the shortest of them all who still manages to swipe the food and crust from frying pans. Next is Þvörusleikir (Spoon Licker) on December 15… Not much more needs to be explained about him. Following in that trend we have Pottasleikir (Pot Licker) on December 16 and Askasleikir (Bowl Licker) on December 17—at least your kitchen will be clean… sort of! Moving away from saliva being spread around your kitchen, we have Hurðaskellir (Door Slammer) on December 18 who instead causes a ruckus by slamming your doors! Then comes a Yule Lad on December 19 with an affixation for the Icelandic yoghurt Skyr— Skyrgámur (Skyr-Gobbler) will pinch any Skyr around! The ninth Yule Lad arrives on December 20 and is called Bjúgnakrækir (Sausage-Swiper), so be sure to hide any sausages being smoked before they get stolen. Our next Yule Lad is a bit creepier; Gluggagægir (Window-Peeper) comes on December 21 and will cast his eyes on people’s windows to search for things to steal. On the night before December 22, Gáttaþefur (Doorway-Sniffer) arrives with his long, large nose, using his heightened sense of smell to seek out treats, especially Laufabrauð. The Twelfth Yule Lad is less interested in treats and more on the lookout for meat— Ketkrókur (Meat-Hook) uses his hook on December 23 to steal meat! The final Yule Lad is Kertasníkir (Candle-Stealer) and he comes on the night before the 24th. Keep an eye on the little ones as this Lad follows children to steal candles!

Wassailing

Wassailing is rooted in Pagan times and celebrations and has been practiced in Britain for centuries, long before carolling became popular. Generally taking place on the Twelfth Night (January 5) or January 17 and originating in Southern England, wassailing is essentially a ceremony to scare away evil spirits and encourage a good harvest in the following season. But how does that happen? Well, an essential part of this celebration, like many ancient and Pagan traditions, is the relationship between us as humans and nature, and by nourishing that relationship with love and respect, good things are expected to come.

There are a couple ways of practicing wassailing that differ depending on where you are from—in some places, groups of people, or merrymakers, will go from one house to another holding a wassail bowl, singing traditional songs and spreading joy and well wishes. This part of the tradition is where modern carolling stemmed from! In the countryside, typically fruit growing regions, trees are blessed through drinking and song intended to get rid of bad spirits and awaken the sleeping tree spirits, the trees then ready to provide a good harvest. Also involved are a wassail King and Queen, who will lead the celebration and upon gathering around the biggest and best tree, will sing songs and place a piece of wassail soaked toast onto its branches as a gift!

You also have something called a wassail drink which is again different depending on which part of the country you are from. Generally, this drink consisted of warmed cider, wine, or ale with plenty of spices and honey or syrup, and fruit—sometimes baked—is simmered with it. Today you can include alcohol or more versatile fruits, but the purpose of the drink is to share with others, pour onto the roots of trees to ward off the bad spirits, and as an offer in exchange for gifts.

Kissing Under the Mistletoe

Kissing underneath the mistletoe can be traced back to a couple of traditions and religions, one of which being the ancient Celts! The Celts had a fondness for oak trees specifically, but mistletoe became sacred and a symbol of fertility to the Druids after they noticed that it bloomed during harsh winters when other trees such as great oaks would shed and become barren. This led to a ritual in which a druid in a white robe climbed a sacred oak tree, cutting the mistletoe with a golden sickle and catching it in a white cloth; the mistletoe was never allowed to touch the ground. After the cut, a prayer would be spoken and two white oxens slaughtered. This took place on the sixth day of a moon— a waxing moon— with the prayer and sacrifice being made to a god in exchange for prosperity! Mistletoe was thought to cure wounds and served as antidote for all manner of things, therefore known as a great healer.

Another derivative comes from a Viking myth of Frigg, the goddess of love and marriage, and her son Baldur. Baldur, the god of light, was beloved, and Frigg made everything from living creatures and plants to the elements and sicknesses swear not to harm him, but she overlooked the mistletoe plant. This would prove to be a mistake when the god Loki, envious of Baldur and his invincibility, sought the one thing that could harm him and used the plant to make a deadly dart to kill him. He succeeded and Frigg was devastated, declaring mistletoe from that moment on as a symbol of peace and love, her tears blessing the plant and promising the kiss anyone who walked underneath it so that her son would be remembered. Knowing both of these stories, it’s easy to understand why mistletoe has become a staple holiday tradition of spreading love, joy, and prosperity!

The Yule Log

The Yule log wasn’t always a delicious treat to have at Christmastime— back in pre-Christian Europe, it was an actual log carefully chosen and brought into the house, the word “Yule” itself coming from the Old Norse word “Jól”! The largest end of the log would be placed into the fire hearth and it would be lit from the remains of the previous year’s log. This often started on Christmas Eve and continued for twelve days (the Twelve Days of Christmas), the ceremony believed to bring good fortune, prosperity, and protection into the home, keeping evil spirits away during the colder months. The ashes were kept for this very reason and were very good for plants, and if you threw them out on Christmas day you’d be at risk of receiving some bad luck! This tradition is slightly different in various parts of Europe, and different kinds of wood are also used depending on where you are! For example, oak is traditional to use in England but in Scotland birch is first choice, that being said, in Devon and Somerset here in the UK some people use large bunches of Ash twigs instead of a log!

The flame is lit on Christmas Eve, marking the beginning of the twelve-day celebration— this is a time when families come together and invoke the spirit of the season. From days two to six, families will gather to share stories and enjoy festive treats, soaking up the glow and warmth from the lit log that symbolises the impending return of the sun. Day seven is the midpoint of this celebration, and people will come together for larger gatherings and enjoy a feast! Supposedly, the person responsible for re-lighting the log throughout these twelve days had to have clean hands. Days eight to eleven are for Yuletide traditions and reminding people of the importance of family, community, and nature. Then we arrive at the twelfth and final day when families come together one last time to watch as the log’s flame goes out, often celebrated with special rituals and sharing wishes for the new year.

Verbena Books

We’re home to a plethora of amazing books that dive into folklore, seasonal celebrations, nature, and magic, so if you enjoyed this article and want to learn more about festive traditions or the history behind celebrations you love, you can find our list here!

Let us know your favourite Christmas/Winter Solstice traditions, or any tales that you’d love to share! We always love hearing from readers and feel passionate about the joy and power of storytelling and community!

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In this excerpt from Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast, explore the unique ways that Hekate, Morgan Le Fay, Guan Yin, and Oshun can offer guidance for balance, intuition, bravery, and much more, and begin your journey to working with the divine feminine.

Working with Hekate

While this great witch-goddess was strongly suppressed during the rise of Christianity, she had a resurgence during the witch-hunting of the early modern era. Here, she was invoked as an evil crone, an ugly old woman who would kill and eat children. Despite this vigorous attempt to blacken her reputation, Hekate is enjoying something of a third incarnation now as the patron goddess of modern witches and pagans. People today feel a draw to remember the magic of the old ways, and Hekate is just the guide to help them do that.

Hekate is the goddess of the crossroads, whether literal or metaphorical. When you don’t know whether to go right, left, or straight ahead, Hekate will stand with you, torch lit, helping you see the way forward. She will not tell you what to do or do the work for you, but she will be by your side. So much of witchcraft is about listening inwardly, paying attention, using our senses to trust that part of ourselves that knows, without needing someone else to tell us what to do. Hekate’s torch can help light our way.

Meditation with Hekate:

Classically, Hekate was honored with the Deipnon, a supper held at the crossroads on the night of a new Moon. A simple way to practice this today is to leave some food or drink at a crossroads near you. Ensure that it is safe for local flora or fauna and/or well wrapped so that someone who might be hungry can come upon it and enjoy it. Do your spell or meditation here, or simply imagine a crossroads as you drop into your inner knowing. The following meditation will help you navigate a crossroads: a situation where you have a decision to make and aren’t sure which way to turn. Acknowledge the land you are on. Consider Hekate’s lands, ancient Greece and Anatolia, and all the places she’s traveled since then. Imagine a circle of protection around you, inviting only energies in alignment with the highest good.

Imagine two paths that you could go down. Name one “staying the same” and the other “changing.” Contemplate the first: the path that is closest to the status quo, closest to the patterns that are familiar for you, that would require the least change for you. Notice how you feel in your body when you imagine yourself walking down this path. Notice any thoughts or feelings that arise. Then attend to the second path, the path that feels more like changing, where you would need new skills, to draw on unfamiliar parts of yourself or where you’d need to ask for more help. Notice what it feels like to imagine yourself walking down this path. Can you see a third path, an alternative direction, or perhaps the option to do nothing at all?

When you’re ready, invite Hekate to join you here. See her in her three-headed form, able to see in all directions at once. Welcome her, honor her, and indicate your offering to her. Imagine her lighting her torch, and simply witness with her, let her see what you’ve gleaned from these possible paths. She may or may not indicate a direction, perhaps handing you a key to pass through a portal. Stay with her as long as you need to. When this feels complete, thank her, thank the land, the circle of protection, and your own ability to see with your mind, heart, eyes, and body.

Morgan and the modern witch

To this day, witchcraft is feared by some and embraced by others. Some still see it as a devil’s practice, while others work with it as a radical embrace of knowing and power outside of patriarchal religious control. Like Hekate, Morgan refuses to be categorized, to be pinned down as just one thing, and that’s part of what makes her so powerful and resonant even today.

Modern witchcraft can follow a specific religion like Wicca but it doesn’t have to. It can also be a simple practice of listening to intuition, paying attention to the land and the seasons, and performing simple rituals that help us understand ourselves and what we’re going through a little better. It can be a way of resisting the systems of oppression around us simply by insisting on being who we are, rather than who someone else tells us to be.

As an ancient Celtic goddess, Morgan would have presided over the energies of light and dark, birth and rebirth. These deities didn’t need to be “good” or “bad” because their power involved both. Morgan is ultimately a shapeshifter, a goddess of the Otherworld, and, perhaps, a human being with the same flaws and limitations as the rest of us. She can hold all those realities at once without being limited by any single one of them. The important thing is not what we’re able to accomplish or how other people talk about us. The important thing is that we know who we are.

Working with Guan Yin

Guan Yin will see the good in anyone, anywhere, anytime. Like Hekate, she will even take on the restless ghosts who are in hell for doing very bad things. She doesn’t care who you are or what you’ve done. If you are suffering, she will be there for you.

Miao Shan’s story teaches the healing capacity of compassion, especially for her father, whose body and heart she heals through her sacrifice. She also teaches the power of nature and paying attention – lessons we see in parallel tales like Cinderella, Vasilisa, and Rumpelstiltskin, where young women are forced to complete impossible tasks and need the help of the spirit world to do so.

Perhaps my favorite element of Miao Shan’s story, however, is her resolute insistence on listening to her own intuition, even to the point of defiance. She would have made her life much easier if she’d simply married as she was ordered. But something in her knew that was not her path, and despite the trials she faced, she calmly stayed true to what she knew inside herself. As sweet and loving as she is, she is also brave, even rebellious. Guan Yin knows her own power, even when others tell her it’s not there.

Meditation with Guan Yin:

This meditation is inspired by a classical Buddhist meditation practice that can be incredibly powerful for working with, rather than against, our emotions.

Acknowledge the land you are on and consider Guan Yin’s many lands as well. Now begin to contact an emotion you’ve been struggling with: sadness, anger, desire, or whatever else has been causing you suffering. Call up the emotion and any stories that come along with it. Feel it as fully as you can in your body and notice the physical experience that comes with the emotion.

Imagine Guan Yin here with you now. She is kind and gentle, able to hear the cries of your heart in this moment of suffering. She only sees your humanity; she does not judge you. She has ultimate compassion for what you are going through. With her by your side, allow the stories about the emotion to fade into the background. Especially allow stories of criticism, fear, self-hatred, and so on to be held gently by Guan Yin so you don’t have to. See how fully you can still feel this emotion without the stories associated with it. What happens to the sensations in your body when you are no longer judging how you feel? Does the emotion survive without the inner narratives about that emotion?

When this feels complete for you, focus your attention on Guan Yin. Take some time to offer her your listening, your attention, and your gratitude. She may have more to teach you here, and she may simply want to be with you. When you’re ready, thank Guan Yin deeply for being with you in this moment of suffering

Working with Oshun: fertility and healing

If you wish to begin a relationship with Oshun, there are many ways to do that with appropriate guidance and care from someone qualified within one of her many traditions. It is recommended that you work with a teacher and be initiated into her worship rather than doing it alone. In fact, some would warn you not to try to contact her directly without help because you might spark her formidable rage!

Whatever your background, however, Oshun touches on the human condition – specifically in its feminine aspect. Feminine energy is something that exists within everything and everyone. It is the energy of water, emotion, flow, movement, and that which animates the masculine. This story reminded me of one from the Shakta Tantra tradition from India, where a group of gods are unable to complete their work and pray desperately for Shakti, the feminine principle, to help them. When she appears, they bow themselves low, gems and riches falling from their crowns, understanding at last that the world simply doesn’t work without a balance between masculine and feminine energies.

Like Guan Yin, Oshun holds the feminine space of calm, creation, and, in some cases, the healing tears of compassion and grief. Oshun’s waters can bring us back to a state of balance where, like her, we can create life, fertility, creativity, and forgiveness. Ultimately, part of that healing is about humbling ourselves, bowing ourselves low to all we don’t understand, and welcoming the power of the feminine principle within ourselves.

Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast

Divine feminine archetypes for modern life

After writing Maiden, Warrior, Mother, Crone, Julie Peters brings us yet another stunning title that shines a light on ten more divine feminine figures, retelling their stories and providing us with their intriguing histories. With meditations, rituals, and more, find ways of working with these women and learning from their wisdom to help you wade your way through the trials of life.

Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast is out on 11 November, so begin your preparation for the new year with guidance from these ten figures by pre-ordering with the link here!

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Talismans and Taboos

Ships in bottles

In the Middle Ages ship-engraved stone amulets were carried as charms against shipwreck; later the ship-motif appeared consistently in wool-pictures, embroidery, ‘scrimshaw’ work and other sailors’ handicrafts. The choice may seem obvious. Yet until the twentieth century life afloat was cheerless and, for residents of the forecastle at least, an escapist image might surely have had greater appeal? One must seek a deeper reason than the sailor’s affection for his ‘home’. For whatever attractive alternatives offered, the ship herself has always been carefully selected as favourite motif. Rarely, if ever, does she appear storm-racked but rather proceeding swan-like in seas richly blue, white sails filled by fair winds, or at evening anchor in golden harbours. If de Loutherbourgs and van de Veldes were charmed by tempests and tattered ensigns, sailors were not. Portraying disasters merely brought them nearer; selecting tranquil scenes caused them to be. It was creative magic.

Inserting ship models into glass bottles, a lively if no longer magical conceit dating from the early nineteenth century, had similar purpose. Among those of the modern era still working on the craft in the old tradition was the Royal Navy’s COEMN ‘Phil’ Filby who, while serving in the frigate HMS Tartar in Icelandic waters in 1976, ‘launched’ a gaff-rigged schooner. The ship, a replica of a North American four-masted schooner, masts lying along her hand-carved hull, passed narrowly down the bottle-neck to rest upon a blue foam-flecked sea within. Miniature rigging lines were gently hauled and the masts rose, spars spread out, sails unfurled and billowed. The intentions underlying the enclosing of ships in bottles were not discussed by early makers (and were probably unacknowledged) but they were undoubtedly magical. There was virtue in putting a ship into a protected place where nothing could injure or endanger her. The sailor was in effect ‘corking up’ fair breezes and blue seas for his own use. Such models, hostages to fortune left with family or friends, ensured the sailor’s safe return from a voyage which he had done his best to see would resemble that of the bottled ship, tranquilly proceeding on the parlour chimneypiece.

Animal mascots

Luck-bringing animal mascots, long valued by ships, must be rescued at all costs if the ship sinks, or the crew’s fate is sealed. None must be killed except for food (this cogent argument pardoned one billy-goat on trial for butting the captain). Crews bitterly resented interference with pets; it was tampering with luck itself. One sorely-tried first lieutenant who testily ordered ashore all the ship’s pets was confronted the next morning by a donkey tethered to the torpedo tubes by twenty-two yards of the heaviest chain cable. It was freed only after an hour’s work by the artificer.

Like rats, cats have foreknowledge of wreck and will leave a doomed ship. Several passengers, including George Gott, noticed the cat of the New England paddle-steamer Portland carry her kittens ashore to a warehouse on India Wharf, Boston, just before the ship sailed on 26 November 1898. Mr Gott did not embark, nor did the cat. Others, too, decided that what was not good enough for the cat was not good enough for them. It was a wise decision – the ship was lost that night in a hurricane.

The sea-cat, indispensable in rat-ridden wooden ships, was, like land-cats, of double aspect; lucky certainly but, as befitted a witch’s assistant, with an uncanny influence on weather (discussed in a later chapter). Americans permit white cats only on ships; any fisherman meeting a black cat may defer sailing. On British ships one black cat was lucky, two never; but in 1976-8 a tradition of a thousand years was broken when, heeding Britain’s strict anti-rabies legislation, both the Royal and Merchant Navies set their ships’ pets ashore for good.

One of the traditional luck-bringers was Leading Seacat Fred Wunpound, believed to be the last ship’s cat in the Royal Navy. Fred died at his retirement home ashore in 1976. At the age of six weeks he was ‘pressed into service’ from the Plymouth pound of the RSPCA (a ‘bounty’ of £1 was paid for him – hence his name) and he afterwards travelled over 250,000 miles while serving as the much-admired mascot of HMS Hecate. Noted for his gleaming black coat, Fred, who laid claim to the title of ‘world’s most travelled cat’, lived in a wicker basket next to the ship’s gyro-room near her centre of gravity for he never really got his sealegs. ‘Missed ship on sailing’ (and the warrant issued for his arrest) and his qualifications for ‘kit upkeep allowance’ did not go unnoticed in his service documents. He received regular promotions until he became Leading Seacat in 1971; and when he ‘swallowed the anchor’ in 1975 and was ‘discharged to shore’, he held two good conduct badges, together with one mark against him of ‘disgraceful conduct’, after an incident in Brixham fishmarket!

The Perennial Sea-Serpent

Comb, song and looking-glass

So much for creatures which may or may not live. Indisputably mythical are mermaids, common in the world’s maritime folklore – in Germany as Meerfrau, in Denmark as maremind, in Ireland as merrow. Irishmen accounted mermaids pagans banished by St Patrick; Livonians, Pharoah’s children drowned in the Red Sea. The early gods and goddesses in fish form were their ancestors – the Chaldean Oannes; Atergatis, goddess of the Syrians; and the Philistines’ ‘Dagon . . . sea-monster, upward man, and downward fish’. Pliny had a tale of a ‘man of the sea’ in the Gulf of Cadiz ‘with complete semblance to a being in every part’, who boarded ships during the night and gradually caused the side upon which he sat to sink beneath the waves.

At Ker-Ys, Brittany, their traditional home, lived the morgans or sea-fairies, much like mermaids. As sirens, on the dangerous beaches of Finistère they spread treasures of irresistible beauty, only for unblinking human eyes. Fishermen who succumbed to temptation were drawn to their deaths in the waves. Before the prose period of maritime discovery defined her, the mermaid’s story (and to the French she is still la sirène) became entangled with that of the classical Sirens, who, with women’s faces and birds’ bodies, feathered and clawed, yet with glorious voices, charmed sailors to destruction. Warned by Circe, the Greek voyager Odysseus escaped their blandishments by stopping his crew’s ears with beeswax and lashing himself to the mast.

Time passed. Sailors captured ‘mermaids’. In 1560 fishermen caught seven merfolk off Ceylon; these, dissected, were pronounced as having skeletons resembling those of man. A mermaid found floundering at Edam in 1493 was trained as a spinner. Early confidence in mermaids was bolstered by the discovery of ‘sea-lions’, ‘sea-elephants’ and ‘sea-hogs’ – with the notion that every land animal had a sea counterpart. Among analogues were the ‘sea-bishop’ and the ‘sea-monk’ whose portraits, first published in 1554 by the Frenchman Guillaume Rondelet (1507-66), showed sturgeon-like fish with skin markings imaginatively constructed as features and ecclesiastical accoutrements. The monk-fish had ‘a man’s face, rude and ungraceful, with a bald, shining head; on the shoulders something like a monk’s hood; long winglets, instead of arms; the extremity of body terminated in a tail’. A scaly prelate in dalmatic and mitre, netted in the Baltic in 1531 for the King of Poland, carried a crozier; his assistant was cowled. With the sign of the cross the creatures civilly acknowledged their release into the sea.

Aside from enticement and their distracting presence mermaids were ‘weather-breeders’ – a sighting of them portended storms – and, as custodians of drowned souls, they were ever eager to increase their stock of prisoners. Speculum Regali spoke of a twelfth-century mermaid haunting a deep near Greenland, fish in hand. If she cast it towards a ship, it was certain to sink by tempest; if away the ship would reach port.

Folklore of the Sea

Myths and legends of the maritime world

The sea is another realm— a continuous mystery and full to the brim with creatures and tales that follow those who walk on dry land. In Folklore of the Sea, dive into the myths and legends of the deep, wading your way through superstitions, legends, and lore that, to this day, echo on the open seas.

Often eerie and always enticing, the stories and rituals throughout Folklore of the Sea call for you to get lost within them. With beautiful illustrations by Philip Harris, the words of Margaret Baker will draw you in and take your mind captive, showing you how these traditions of the past continue to follow those in the present.

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Learn about three of the divine figures featured in Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast and how they can guide you with this article!

In your book Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast, you say that you turned to witchcraft in your teens— can you tell us why, or what attracted you to it?

I was raised Christian. My family wasn’t obsessive about it, but we went to Church every Sunday. I learned the stories and the rituals, I performed in the nativity play, and for a little while I was an incense bearer (which gave me nosebleeds!). As I got older, I learned more about the history of the church and its misogyny. I needed a place to put my spiritual curiosity where I felt more like I belonged, especially as a girl.

I eventually stopped going to church. Instead I’d spend afternoons in the esoteric section of the library, reading up on astrology and spells. My friend Olivia and I would get together and try to perform magic out of whatever spell books we could find. We’re still friends to this day, actually, and both still witches!

I was also a very intense teen, very emotional and reactive. I had big feelings and nowhere to put them. Witchcraft gave me crystals and candles, spells, and rituals—things I could practice and hold in my hands, words to chant over my heartbreak and pain. Today I don’t use all the stuff in the same way—my witchcraft is more internal, more imaginative—though I can’t resist having a few crystals around, of course!

Has living in Alberta inspired you and your spirituality?

I moved to Alberta from Vancouver, BC, kicking and screaming, for my husband’s work. I had been in Vancouver for about 15 years, and I didn’t want to leave. I dreaded the extreme winters and I’d heard the city was boring. Alberta is also the most conservative province in Canada—it’s oil country, full of cowboys and conservatives.

But the prairie sky is a thing to behold. It’s so wide and open, and there’s always drama with the clouds, sunshine, and storms. Edmonton is known as Beaver Hill House, once a gathering place for many different indigenous bands who would come together to trade and share stories. I’ve made friends here quickly who seem like they should have always been my people—smart, interesting, politically engaged people, many of whom are quite witchy, actually. In Vancouver, I was living at a loud, bright, busy intersection, where I witnessed more than a few car accidents outside my window. Where I live now, on Plains Cree land just at the edge of the city near forest and parkland, it’s quieter and calmer, more conducive to connecting to my intuition. It surprised me to discover that I love it here.

In Vancouver, where’s it’s rainy and mild, I had a relationship with the dark sky, the moon between the clouds, the flashy neighborhood gardens and the birds that lived in the park nearby. Now, it’s me and the prairie sky, the intense sunshine that melts in the summer and sparkles in the winter. It’s me and the thunderstorms, these incredible operas of thunder, lightning, rain, and even sometimes hail, these events that you can’t ignore, you have to stop what you’re doing and watch them out the window, reminding yourself you (probably) won’t get blown away. I wasn’t expecting it, but yes, absolutely, living in Alberta has absolutely nourished my spirituality.

Are there any places you want to visit in relation to your passions, or any places you have a deep connection to?

Ireland! Many places in the UK, actually. My ancestors are from there, and we found out recently they trace back to an ancient Celtic Dobunni tribe. They likely would have told the stories I am writing about now, centered around the Tuatha de Danaan and goddesses like Airmed and the Morrigan. When my cousin found out, he was surprised to discover he was on Dobunni land at the time (near Bristol) and was able to bike quickly to a 3000 year old ruin from a Dobunni settlement. I’m still learning about them, but they may have something to do with the beginnings of witchcraft, which feels appropriate.

What do you think are some of the most important things to know when journeying into witchcraft?

My favorite definition of a witch is someone who pays attention. She (or he or they) listens to their body, the land, the movements of the seasons and the moon. I think we all have access to these deeper ways of knowing, we simply aren’t paying attention most of the time.

I think it’s important to know that you don’t need a bunch of stuff to get started. The candles and crystals are fun and there’s nothing wrong with using them, but they are not necessary. For me, it’s not a closed practice—it’s something that’s already within that you simply need to connect to.

That being said—one other thing to know is protect your energy! When we listen more deeply and allow our sensitivities to come to the surface, we can become more vulnerable, too. If you’re an empathy witch like me (I’m a counseling therapist!), you can feel deeply what other people are feeling. That’s powerful and can be very useful, but we need practices to filter, digest, integrate, and release that energy.

A simple intention is enough—I like imagining a circle of protection that allows in only those energies that are in alignment with the highest good. I also like the phrase “may the work we do here benefit all and harm none.” After doing healing work with other people, I’ll do a simple quick clearing to let any excess energy go back to Source.

Where did your passion for gods and goddesses come from?

Someone gave me a big book of Greek mythology for kids when I was young, and I devoured it—I read it threadbare. I actually still have it; its pages barely hold together. I loved the idea of a goddess, beautiful and powerful, like nothing I had ever encountered before in my Sunday school education.

I had a great teacher in high school—Mr. Carefoote—who was an ex-Deacon in the Christian church. One day he dimmed the lights and showed us a slideshow of ancient cultures that assumed God was a woman. Of course she was—women could create life from their bodies, seemingly from nothing. I can’t express how powerful that moment was for me, of imagining for a moment that God was a woman, that my body could hold divinity inside of it. I was entranced.

When I got into yoga, there were more stories of divinities, male and female (and sometimes both), with all kinds of different lessons to teach. I studied World Religions in university and took a wonderful Feminist Christianity class where I learned more about Christian art and mythology. I really couldn’t get enough of these stories, and I still can’t—I suppose I’ve been collecting them in different ways ever since I was a child.

Do you have a favourite god or goddess or one that you are most drawn to, and why?

Oh, it changes all the time. Right now I’m a little obsessed with Jezebel—she’s not a goddess, technically, but she was a historical Queen of Israel. She has this horrible reputation, but in a way it’s her bad reputation that saved the gods and goddesses she loved.

Jezebel came from Phoenicia, where most people worshiped the Canaanite pantheon, which included goddesses like the fierce Anat, the kingly Baal, and Astarte, a goddess of fertility that is connected to Isis, Ishtar, and later Aphrodite. She and King Ahab were trying to rule Israel in a way that allowed everyone their own religious experience. Ahab was devoted to Yahweh, but he built a temple to Astarte for Jezebel when she moved to Israel to be with him. Jezebel ruled well for a long time, even after Ahab’s death, but she was always targeted by religious extremists who wanted to stamp out any worship other than that of Yahweh. It got to the point that they executed a whole bunch of people inside of Astarte’s temple and then turned it into a “latrine,” according to the Biblical book of Kings. When her enemies came to take her life, Jezebel knew they were coming. She dressed in her queenly best, meeting her death so dramatically it would never be forgotten.

Jezebel may be one of the only reasons we know anything about the Canaanite pantheon, the mythology that was basically the prequel to the Old Testament, featuring Yahweh’s parents and siblings. Jezebel was so hated we’re still talking about her—even Barbie in the Barbie movie was called a “Jezebel,” and her story retrieves the old gods and goddesses from obscurity. I can’t wait for everyone to read my telling of her story in Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast.

Do you have any stories or fond memories from working with specific gods/goddesses?

During a tumultuous time in my life, I came across the Nityas, this group of moon phase goddesses tin the Shakta Tantra tradition, a branch of Tantra that sees the goddess (in her many faces) as supreme. The Nityas taught me so much about myself, the cycles and phases of my life, and how to be in relationship in a healthy and sustainable way. My first book (Secrets of the Eternal Moon Phase Goddesses) is all about them. Every night, I’d take my dog out for an evening walk and stare at the moon, learning the name of the goddess that presided over that moon phase. They are still really influential, if I’m honest, though I’ve expanded my lens to goddesses of different cultures all over the world.

This isn’t exactly a fond memory, but it means a lot to me. When I was writing the Maiden chapter of my book Maiden, Warrior, Mother, Crone, I found out I was pregnant. I was writing about springtime, new beginnings, and potential, and I had a little fertilized seed in my belly. But as I closed that chapter and moved onto the Warrior section and the Morrigan, I learned I was having a miscarriage—my fifth. The Morrigan is a fierce Celtic goddess, all about self-sovereignty and remaining true to yourself no matter what you’re going through. A shiver went down my spine as I read in Courtney Weber’s book about her that she is the sort of goddess that tends to appear when you need her whether you’ve asked for her or not. Here was this fierce goddess asking me how to remain sovereign even in the face of something I couldn’t control. My next pregnancy was successful and I have a wonderful, healthy five month old boy now.

How long have you been meditating, and how do you feel it helps you?

I have a lot I could say about meditating, but I’ll try to keep this short! I started with my yoga practice in my early teens as yoga Nidra or forms of imagination, which I loved. I wouldn’t have called it that at the time, but my teen witch journey involved a lot of meditating, a lot of altered states of consciousness, mostly through simple imagination (which is a lot of what I still do). This continued on through my yoga practice and yoga teacher training. I did a long meditation course once that involved repeating a mantra in your head over and over until your thoughts went quiet. But to be honest, I found this somewhat oppressive. I don’t really do the types of meditation that are meant to quiet your thoughts or enter a state of nothingness. For me the mind is a rich garden. I would much rather enjoy the blooms that cut off all the flowers. My opinion goes on from there, but I think I’ll leave it at that at the moment!

Following on from that, are there any rituals or specific meditations that you like to do this time of year?

I love the fall, which I think of as Moon Season because the moon starts to be more visible during more of the day when it’s darker—I live in a pretty northern place in Canada where the light dwindles to about 7 hours at the Winter Solstice. It’s such a magical time of cozying up and going inward. I love to take some time around Samhain to acknowledge death and loss, and the Winter Solstice for me is an important time for reflecting on the calendar year and making some intentions for the year ahead.

What was the process of writing this book like, and what did you learn from it?

I’ve been writing about mythology—and specifically goddesses—for quite a long time. But with this book I got to go really deep into certain stories and their meanings. I was very inspired by the writer Sophie Strand, who often talks about re-rooting myth, reorienting ancient stories not only to their political and religious context, but literally their roots—-the fruits and trees and animals that would have been present at the time, how the land itself gave birth to these myths. I loved imagining these characters in a real time and place in their connection to their sacred land, and it gave the stories a completely new meaning for me.

I was also able to go way back into the past, before the Abrahamic religions and even before patriarchy itself. So many goddess mythologies came to be in a time when the goddess was understood to be the supreme deity. Gods mattered, too, but they were not the main characters! It brought me back to Mr. Carefoote’s class all those years ago, imagining a world before the system of patriarchy really existed. No one knows what life was actually like in those matriarchal societies and if life actually was better for women (and everyone else) or not. But we can imagine, can’t we?

One thing that shifted a little bit between writing Maiden, Mother, Warrior Crone and Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast was that I ended up using a lot of podcasts for my research in the second book. I’m academically trained, so my tendency is to go to books for all my information. But mythology usually began as oral storytelling, and I wanted to hear from people who live on the lands where these mythologies came to be, get a sense of their feelings, their sense of humor, their accents, their relationship to these myths and what they meant. Engaging with the oral part of these stories that still exists was a new pleasure (and don’t worry, I did plenty of book research, too!). It actually inspired me to start up a live online Storytime series where I read these books out loud to a group who can respond and tell me how these stories feel to them. I’m actually working on a new project now involving the secret mythologies of the Tarot cards, and I’ve been able to read the stories to my son and my husband at bedtime, which is honestly a bit of a dream come true. These stories thrive when they are shared, attended to, reawakened in conversation and stretched in dreams.

Has your work as a therapist helped you in any way with your own journey?

You know, I might say that my own journey has really helped me with my work as a therapist! I came to therapy via yoga, which I taught for over 15 years. Yoga was (and still is) a huge part of how I connect with my body, process my experiences, and maintain my creativity. I noticed how often my students would have emotional reactions in their poses and how much yoga helped them with things like mood and emotional processing. I brought so much of my own experience to my book about recovering from sexual trauma (called Want), and most of that was written before I completed my official training in therapy. Goddesses and other archetypes have helped me immensely in my personal life, including over the last few years. I can’t tell you what a gift it was to be able to learn about and write about these fierce, powerful, compassionate feminine beings, some of whom really suffered, while I was suffering, dealing with my fertility journey at the time. I don’t think I’d be a therapist without all that background, honestly.

Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?

One thing that has been really special for me in writing both Maiden and Witch is working with the illustrator, Nadia Murash. If you look at some of the details she’s come up with in the images, it’s so clear that she really read my stories, she didn’t just google a particular goddess and draw up something stereotypical. There’s a moment, for example, when I talk about Hekate’s dog, Hecuba, who was once a Trojan queen. Hekate turned her into a dog when she was howling, driven mad with the grief of having lost her sons after the fall of Troy. In the story, I mention that the dog’s eyes still look so human, and somehow Nadia has illustrated this, she’s given the dog this powerful stare that does feel really human. She just gets it, and it’s felt like a huge honor for her to be illustrating these stories for me. I think she’s probably the reason a lot of people will buy this book, honestly—it’s just so gorgeous and so special and it wouldn’t be the same without her.

Live book launch

On November 23rd, 2025, at 10:00am MT, Julie Peters will be hosting a live book launch on her Instagram! During this launch, Julie will also be reading a story from her brand new book Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast: Divine Feminine Archetypes for Modern Life. Make sure to follow the talented Julie Peters on Instagram so that you don’t miss this captivating live launch! You can find her on Instagram here.

Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast is out today! Order your own copy of this captivating title here, and get lost in the stories of the divine feminine!

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Have a look at some of the goddesses you can start learning about and working with in certain ways, understanding how each goddess provides you with different knowledge that can help you overcome your troubles. To dive deeper into their stories and origins, Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast is available to pre-order now!

Four divine feminine archetypes

There are many divine feminine archetypes including the mother, the maiden, the lover, and the queen, but the figures explored below fall under the archetypes of the healer and the outcast.

The healer, also something many witches have been known as, is someone who connects the body and mind and uses the gifts of the earth around them to do truly magnificent things. With unlimited vision, unselfish intentions, and vast knowledge, the healer embodies nurturing and restorative qualities to heal both the body and the spirit or mind. Leaning into the healer can deepen your own connection and spirituality, strengthening your intuition as you learn to recognise when balance needs restoring.

The outcast reminds us of the unknown, the disruptive, and the power that comes with our inner selves should we allow ourselves to run wild. They do not seek to please—they challenge the norm, rebelling against what is expected if it does not reflect what lies within. With the outcast we are reminded that magic can live within the lost or the feared.

Three goddesses and their ways of offering you wisdom

Airmed

From the Tuatha Dé Danann, an ancient race of magical peoples from Ireland, comes Airmed, the daughter of a healer and sister of a kind creative. Airmed, sometimes spelt like Airmid (pronounced air-rih-vid) is a wise and intuitive goddess, but because of the nature of her story, is also someone who has known grief, loss, and pain. But Airmed is resilient—whilst mourning the death of her brother and their father’s hand, she catalogued each and every plant that sprouted from his grave and proved her commitment to her healing, never expecting anything in return for her knowledge.

Airmed knows that after death comes rebirth and the continuation of the cycle. If you have experienced loss or are struggling to come to terms with something painful in your life, Airmed can help shine a light to see through the darkness. Although grief and other tricky emotions can feel world-ending, there is always a way to move through or with it. Airmed is a goddess of herbalists and healers, someone to show you the seeds that grow in the light that brightens the darkness and how you can begin to heal.

Your journey of healing with Airmed doesn’t have to be for yourself, either. It can be for loved ones, the environment, or anything that you want to project careful healing onto. With healing, there are also many tools you can use that are easy to get your hands on. Herbs and plants, mindfulness tools, medicinal things—anything that is available to you and that you feel will aid in healing. The main thing is to focus clearly on what it is you wish to heal and open that connection to Airmed.

Matangi

In Hindu mythology, the goddess Matangi is associated with many things due to the legends about her origin, but she is regarded as the outcast goddess. Matangi is also believed to be the goddess of all things creative and has the power to protect those who work with her from negative energies, helping them to overcome boundaries or obstacles that are preventing them from achieving what they wish.

Whether you are a creative or not, it can be hard to know where you fit into the world, especially if you feel different to those around you or misunderstood. There’s nothing wrong with being an outcast; you’re wild, original, not afraid to walk to the beat of your own drum. But sometimes being an outcast can lead to you feeling alone, not able to bond with those around you or find similar interests or ways of living. This is where Matangi comes in. She knows what it’s like to be ignored or different. But Matangi doesn’t want you to change that—she encourages your wildness, wants you to join her in the woods or unpredictable lands of nature and forget what others might expect of you.

Working with Matangi is all about embracing this side of you—your inner child, the parts you try to keep hidden, and reclaiming what it means to be an outcast. Doing this can heal you in many ways and connect you to your inner self without shame or reservation, but always ensure that the actions you take are safe for you and those around you. She can help you with your creativity, communication, and the ability to express yourself in the most authentic way. It is worth mentioning that many people who worship/work with Matangi in more intense ways take guidance from a guru or undergo initiation, but if your purpose is to meditate with Matangi, then anyone with a pure heart and focused intention can receive her wisdom and blessings.

Hel

As another outcast, Hel is a goddess in Norse mythology and is the daughter of Loki, known as the trickster god. Hel is the ruler of the underworld Helheim, tasked with guiding the living as they cross over when their time comes to an end.

As explored with Airmed, death for some can be their biggest fear. It’s the unknown, the thing that often brings pain for those left behind, and the thing hardest to move through life with. But, as we know, death is inevitable. As the goddess of death, Hel reminds us to embrace the cycle of life and understand that despite life ending, there is a new journey to be had on the other side.

Many people who work with Hel or seek guidance from her have been brought peace and comfort from her presence. Some receive callings from her whilst others call out, but regardless of the start of your journey with Hel, she reminds us to accept the bad things that we cannot control and helps us to find a way forward. Consider what death means to you. Are you afraid of it? Have you experienced it in some capacity? How can you view it in a healthier, more natural way? Understanding death more and accepting it as inevitable can open up ways for you to live life to the fullest and allow you to appreciate the things around you more. And as with all meditations or time spent working with these goddesses, don’t forget to thank them.

Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast

Divine feminine archetypes for modern life

Discover your own power as you dive into ten original retellings of divine feminine figures with Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast. As explored in this article, there is so much to learn from goddesses and divine figures, and with this beautiful title you can read more about their stories, origins, and how to meditate with them to gain from their wisdom.

The world can be a tricky and confusing place, and oftentimes our journeys can be made difficult by pain, doubt, or disconnection, but there is so much knowledge out there to be accessed if you only tap into your inner self and intuition. Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast offers a space for reflection and enables you to learn about figures possibly misunderstood in the past, so if you’re ready to dive into the magical world of the divine feminine, pre-order Witch, Healer, Priestess, Outcast here!

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I’ve always enjoyed being connected to the natural world, and when I was researching my previous book, Rewild Your Home, I completely immersed myself in finding ways to live a life more wild and introduce nature to the everyday.

My Substack, , was born from that passion and I’ve been writing about it ever since. It’s become central to everything I do.

Where do you get inspiration from when looking to connect with the seasons and live wildly?

I make myself go outside! When I was researching Rewild Your Home, I discovered that we spend, on average, 90% of our time indoors these days. That’s terrifying! So getting outside as much as possible is important. But there are also loads of great ways to invite nature and the seasons into your home too.

In my house I’ve tried to blur the boundaries between inside and out as much as possible. I have skylights to allow me to see the sky in all seasons and I’ve filled the tiny garden with trees to green the view from every window. My son and I also often bring treasure home from our walks, emptying out seeds, flowers and leaves from our pockets onto various surfaces and making little displays; literally bringing the outside in.

Children are often very connected to, and aware of, the natural world, so it’s always worth following their lead and trying to see the world through their eyes. When my son was tiny he was fascinated with the moon so I bought him a moon clock, which tells the time in moon phases rather than hours and minutes. It takes a full month to complete one cycle so it’s completely useless for leaving the house on time but there’s something very magical about it and we both check it daily now. In fact, he learnt to tell what phase the moon was in before he could tell the time, which pleased me hugely.

What’s one aspect of seasonal living that people don’t expect?

How joyful it is. It’s pure fun. There’s something fresh to discover and celebrate each month, from festivals and rituals to moon phases and seasonal cakes.

Where do you start when planning ways to celebrate the Solstices and Equinoxes?

The two Solstices each have their own distinct character which makes it quite easy to plan how to celebrate them.

The Summer Solstice is the lightest, brightest day of the year, filled with solar power and high energy and it feels totally right to spend the day outdoors, drinking in the sun, harvesting herbs and flowers and celebrating with friends. It's a big, bright, joyful and outgoing day.

In total contrast, the Winter Solstice is the shortest, darkest day of the year, so energetically it feels very slow, quiet and cosy. It makes sense to celebrate it in a slower way, with cosy rituals like lighting candles and fires, eating warming foods, bringing evergreens in and quietly encouraging the return of the sun.

And then the Equinoxes have their own very distinct character too. They are the only two days in the year when the hours of light and dark are perfectly balanced, so they have a steady, calm energy. Each one feels like a little pause in which to take a breath and regroup. The Spring Equinox naturally lends itself to making plans for the coming summer, while the Autumn Equinox is the perfect time to look back on the Summer and reflect.

Do you have any future plans for your seasonal lifestyle, or do you feel you’ve achieved balance?

There’s always more to discover! Each time the wheel turns from one season to the next I discover new ways to celebrate and share the joy of it.

How big of a role does ancient folklore play in your everyday life as you live with the seasons?

It’s my favourite thing about it. Folklore gives us a fascinating window into an agricultural past where we were much more closely connected to the land and the seasons, and calendar dates were marked with rituals, rhymes and traditions. While some of these markers might be a little out of sync now, due to the changing climate, it still gives us a framework to look at and consider how we might adapt it for modern life. It’s a valuable thread back into the past.

That said, folklore has always been a living, evolving thing, changing and shifting as it’s passed on from one person to another, so I strongly believe we should be finding ways to interpret folk stories and traditions in a way that makes sense today. And of course, we can start our own stories and traditions for future generations. I’m really enjoying the current resurgence of interest in all things folklore and seasonal and I look forward to seeing how it evolves.

Where do you gather all of your folklore from? Has it been passed down, or do you carry out research in specific places?

I grew up in a very rural, agricultural part of the UK; one of those pockets of wild landscape where the past feels very tangible, alongside the present day. Our village celebrated many of the old seasonal festivals, from May Queens and Maypole dancing, to harvest festivals and conker championships. Many of these rituals and traditions have stayed with me and I love the idea of helping to pass them along.

I also love to collect random and obscure folklore books. The older and weirder the better! And I have a big collection of traditional, regional cookbooks from around the UK and Ireland; these often have seasonal recipes that give a clue of how different regions celebrated folklore dates in the past. I’m not an historian, but I am inherently curious, which is what drives me to keep digging and keep looking for new material and new sources.

Since starting my newsletter community I’ve also found that readers will respond to my newsletters each month with their own folklore rituals and practices and it’s brilliant to discover new gems that way. The resurgence in the UK of Orchard Wassailing for example, makes me very happy!

How was the concept of The Solstice Yearbook born?

The more I wrote about seasonal living the more I realised that, in its purest form, it can be summed up as the practice of following the sun. I wanted to write a book that clearly laid out how to best do this, shaping the course of a year around the four big solar events; the Solstices and Equinoxes.

As I mentioned above, each of the festivals has their own very unique ‘flavour’ and they form an excellent framework to shape the year around. We are all still solar-powered creatures, whether we realise it or not, so the book shows us how to harness and celebrate that. It’s a love letter to the sun!

What was it like writing the book; was there anything unexpected about the experience, or anything that was a pleasant surprise?

It was lovely to be able to pull together all the ideas I’d been gathering and have somewhere to consolidate and expand on them. I hadn’t worked on such a heavily illustrated book before, so I loved this part of the experience. Seeing the illustrations Lauren Spooner created for each of the chapters really added something extra and beautiful to the book.

If readers could take just one thing from The Solstice Yearbook, what would you want that to be?

Seasonal living is a joyful, fun experience that will enrich your day to day life. It doesn’t have to be complicated and there are no hard and fast rules. Just keep your eyes open and follow the cues the natural world gives you. You’ll enjoy it.

How do you feel as we rapidly approach the book’s release?

Really excited to see it out on shelves, and ready to start the next one!

The Solstice Yearbook is out now! Kickstart your new seasonal lifestyle by ordering this wonderful title today at the link here.

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