"...and a 'Bah Humbug'!": Apothecary Christmas

Christmas Eve.

In the silence of the evening, after all those in the congregation have gone home, a lone figure in black blends with the shadows in a corner of the nave, offering secret prayers for one who has long since ceased to witness Christmas in this world...

Happy holidays, Severus.

Yuletide at the Apothecary! Here's our little live tree, with candy canes and a few other ornaments. Beneath the glass table was a mound of presents wrapped in brightly colored tissue paper. Since it was "volunteer appreciation night" as well as our Solstice festival, the presents were gifts to each of us who offer our time there in exchange for knowledge. There was also a potluck feast with the most delicious food – a little something for every taste!

Below is the altar, surrounded by the traditional holly, and special "consecrated" cupcakes as well as the ingredients we used to create holy water for the Solstice: rosemary for purification and protection, and essential oils of every persuasion (the tiny labeled bottles in the lower left).


Bottom: Christmas potions! Two bottles of beautiful, newly extracted St. John's Wort oil, a 4-oz of fragrant holy water and an ancient carven treasure of a snuff bottle (I like to pretend it's either emerald, a relic of Salazar Slytherin, or both!) for any sort of extra-special concoction.

Solstice in the Rose Garden

Wizards and Muggles alike may be preparing to celebrate the holiday, but the land is not – it sleeps and waits, like a hibernating serpent, barren but for the steadfast evergreens and weeds. Fresh, wildcrafted potions ingredients are distinctly difficult to come by, for few plants claim winter as their season.

There are exceptions, of course. One was the Holy Thorn Tree in Glastonbury, England, so recently cut down by those ridiculous vandals (though I have seen worse), which bloomed at Christmas and Easter; even now there is a little tree in the park which has insisted on sprouting fragrant pink buds! In mid-December! Hope is a fool's dream, yet it seems to sprout eternal in certain living beings who all but force the rest of us to recognize it. Lily was one of those beings – she never gave up hope. Even in me. But she was wise to distance herself from me and what I became... or rather try: it wasn't far enough... not far enough away...

And this is the sort of thing she would have done. It is refreshing change from knocking the heads off for once, as I no doubt will this spring when I have had enough of finding stray, disgusting love notes and rose petals on the dungeon floor after every Potions class. But this afternoon, there is only peace in the barren garden, under the soft flannel blanket of a still gray sky... only me and my thoughts of her, and the quiet, determined budding of life in the dark night of the year.


This Solstice, what with a full-moon eclipse, we truly had the "darkest-of-the-dark" we've had in 400-odd years! Such portents of the times! A darkened and/or reddened moon facilitates very powerful tranformative magick for us witches and warlocks. How fitting I should spend it in this Snapey phase of life I'm in (the Sun is also in his sign of Capricorn of course). We were unable to see the eclipse in Portland, due to the cloud cover, but I did at least encapsulate the energy by concocting a blood-red potion for later use. We had a lovely Solstice party and volunteer appreciation night at the Apothecary, with a potluck feast, presents, and a ceremony. I was overjoyed to receive a textbook for a high-rated Masters program in planetary herbology – but then again, I'm simply weird that way.

There really is a small tree in Washington Park that is coming out right now with tiny, sweet-smelling pink flowers. The top photo is Portland's International Rose Test-Garden, as it appears in midwinter... minus one sneaky Slytherin, of course.

Knowledge Exquisite

Tonight was miraculously, mercifully free of staff meetings, exam and assignment grading, detentions, or other equally irksome necessities of a Professor's life. I indulged myself at last, perusing a few old tomes off the top shelf and testing a couple of the formulas, noting some possible improvements. Alas – when will I next have such a pleasure? I know not.

Above: photo of my formula log. All potion notes and recipes typically wind up in here.

I've recently finished my first main module of study for my medicinal herbal apprenticeship! Very proud. I don't have nearly as strict a taskmaster as Snape, of course – in fact, we are to complete projects on our own time. However, I love the subject so much that I put a great deal of effort into the work, without being urged by another. And the references! The source books I find, from which to include juicy extra tidbits... the dear herbals, from Matteson (1847), to Green (2004)... The Master herbalist told me she couldn't wait to read it. I hope I've done well by her. "Let me know what I can do better," I pointed out, "since this is my first one!"























One of the things I absolutely, bar none, hated about Book 7 was the burning of the Room of Requirement. All those books! All that knowledge, lost! The findings of centuries, up in smoke! Including, we must presume, the experimental discoveries of the Half-Blood Prince. I am reminded far too much of the burning of the library of Alexandria, a travesty in an age when all manuscripts had to be copied by hand. Ack!!! How I cringe to think of it. That sentiment alone, for the sacredness of knowledge, especially esoteric, must surely slap me as either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. Due to my fondness for Snape and tendency to consider the "Gray" possibilities (I avoid outright Black if possible), I tend to angle toward Slytherin.

In Portland as in London

One of my third-year Slytherins stumbled into double Potions this afternoon veritably soaked to the skin and dripping, with more than a little mud to compliment his appearance. The weather is damper than a kelpie's back, and in addition, this particular fellow ran afoul of some Gryffindors who prevented him from remaining upright as he came back from Care of Magical Creatures – hence, the mud. I had to be especially cautious and thorough with this poor dunderhead: water introduced into this particular olium venenum- based potion can cause boil-overs and explosions. Thank Merlin for "scourgify", drying charms, and detentions for Gryffindors.

Today it poured rain. Here in western Oregon, when winter comes, so do the rains, and they continue unabated for about six months with a few breaks here and there.

But this afternoon, I found I did not mind the rain. On my way home from buying groceries, I happened to find myself behind two of Portland's horseback mounted police. I followed them almost all the way home, in the peaceful, wet grayness of the early evening, watching the rippling muscular rumps of the horses, and the white helmets of their riders barely bobbing along, and imagined myself in London. My family is from England – I went there as a junior and miss it terribly, so any excuse for a brief fantasy lapse is all right by me.


My friend passed me as I paused, mid-crosswalk, to take this main street intersection picture, yelling, "Sev, you're gonna get run over that way!!!"

Good cloak weather. Just make sure that you pick your old cloak and don't mind a few mud stains, because anything off the pavement is pure trouble.

Young Severus and the Dream Hair

I never was one for showing emotions in a world where showing emotions could get you picked on, pranked, beat up, ratted out, tortured, killed... early on I discovered that my hair was yet one more way to disguise my feelings and thoughts – a curtain of mystery. Woe betide those who are caught in the beam of even one keen eye!

My latest shot of the "Dream Snape-Hair". Gods! but I am exceedingly proud of that shine! Dr. Bronner's Castille soap, olive oil, and yes, natural grease. I love this picture, which lends to young Severus an air of mystique like that of some raven Lord, a shadow prince... or, if female, a harem-princess who packs a stiletto and poison!

These Creeping Moods

Silky gray skies, crisp winds with a caress almost as sharp as my words; the weak sun makes hardly a three degree angle with the horizon, and one is tempted to tell it to just give up. On the Malfoy estate today, already-dormant trees spread their bare, gnarled branches toward the dark gray masonry of the outer wall. I, Severus, am lurking again. Big surprise there. A black cloaked shadow slithers among the moss-festooned trunks of the shrubs, on the twigs of which a few dying, yet determined leaves cling feebly. After a chat and a drink, I eventually take leave of my old friend Lucius with inner pockets comfortably crammed with tidbits gleaned from the rolling landscape of the estate – new hemlock leaves, fallen castor beans in their spiky husks, wild roots, bright seeds still in the pod...

Let the brewing begin yet again.

World-famous Hair

I washed my hair today. That is something that does not happen very often. Once a week maximum – frequently less than that. Oh, I hear the sniggers and the sing-song ridiculing, from what the little dunderheads only think is behind my back (spies have sharp ears). The female ones, especially, complain in winter how the dry, cold air makes their hair frizzy. Now, of course you'll complain, you little fools, when you wash it every day! And use drying spells on it, of all things! Let the natural grease build up! Mine stays soft and silky, even when exposed to the fumes from dozens of cauldrons all day long. But the benefits of hair as oily as mine will, no doubt, be sought or learned by few.

Severus Snape is famous for his greasy hair. In fact, my hair care regimen was a lot more like Snape's to begin with than the every-morning shower wash that a lot of people think is "normal", so going "fully Snape" in my hair methods was a surprisingly easy transition to make. I, too, wash my hair once a week or less and, get this!, if it's not greasy enough, I add olive oil or avocado compound to it! The results are deliciously silky, shiny and supple. And since I make my own hair-care potions, I get to laugh myself sick at all those expensive, petroleum-based compounds in the supermarket hair aisle. A whole aisle of them, will you believe. Silly Muggles.

This photo is a joke on Snape. No, I do not actually use axle grease on my hair. Makes for a cute pic though. What I do use is this potion I made... (Don't have the patience, or a lab? Aw, what a shame! Better go to the salon.)

















Snape's Secret Sauce (abbreviated)

3 cups apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup dried sage
1/4 cup dried rosemary
1.5 Tbs. yarrow leaves/flowers
2 Tbs. thyme
1 Tbs. dried elderberries
1 Tb. ground coffee
1 Tb. cloves
3 witch-hazel twigs, diced
Few drops Boyajian lime
10-20 drops favorite essential oil(s) to balance scent of vinegar

Grind all ingredients to powder with mortar and pestle. Warm vinegar in cauldron to just boiling. Add all but last two ingredients (oils are volatile!!!) to vinegar, simmer for 5 minutes, turn off heat, and steep as brew cools. When cool, place in jar, add oils, and macerate for 7 days; strain and bottle. Use 1/8 to 1/4 cup per 2 cups water, no more than twice per month, as a hair rinse.

Class in Session: The Oil of Thieves

Qui omnes insidias timet in nullas incidit

He who fears every ambush falls into none.

"Protego!!!"


"If you let us go free, we'll give you the recipe!"
Three thieves were said to have pleaded this during the Black Plague when they were caught raiding victims' houses – captors demanded to know how they'd escaped sickness. Well, it makes for a good tale. Below is, supposedly, their recipe, which is crammed with disinfectant, antimicrobial plant oils. Don't get sick this winter!

Thieves' Oil

Equal Parts of the following essential oils:
Rosemary
Eucalyptus
Cinnamon
Clove
Lemon