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.