Category: History & Lore

Entry 242 – Planets

We look at the magical lore of the planets in our night sky

Artists image of planets in night sky
All images (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson 2025

If you’re reading this in early 2025, lucky you! Because in January and February, there’s a beautiful procession of planets across our night sky. We mentioned this in one of our recent Folk Magician’s Notebook episodes, saying:

“Venus will shine brightly near the southern horizon for the whole month and should be fairly easy to spot. If you look just a bit south of Venus, you’ll also be able to see a visible (if fainter) Saturn below it which will remain there for the first half of the month (it will technically still be there even in the last half of February but will get harder to see). Looking up, you can find Jupiter glowing very brightly near the Pleiades, and if you have binoculars or a telescope you can even see some of Jupiter’s moons like Ganymede, Callisto, and Europa! Finally, look a bit to the east and find the glowing reddish dot–that’s Mars! If you still have that telescope out you can even see Phobos and Deimos, the Martian moons!. Late in the month, you can also find Mercury rising over the horizon where Saturn was (and technically you could see them both at the same time if you get the timing right–around Feb. 24th–and have a telescope). Uranus and Neptune are also in the sky, although seeing them without a telescope is very difficult, but it’s still good to know they’re there! The beginning of the month will have the least lunar light so you’ll see the most planets and moons, but most of February will be a beautiful time to watch the planetary parade in the hour or so after sunset!”

A few nights ago, I went out when the sky was clear and the moon no more than a sliver and was so awed by the experience of seeing Saturn, Venus, Jupiter, and Mars that I immediately summoned my eldest teenager away from her computer to come see. If you know much about teens, you will be duly impressed by the fact that my enthusiasm over the event was contagious and we both stood and marveled for a few moments at that astounding arc of planets overhead.

While bewitching the younger generation is a magical power unto itself, the planets have also held a special place in magical thought and practice for millennia. Astronomical and astrological observation of these movements shows up in some of our most ancient cultures, including Ancient Grecian, Mayan, Babylonian, and Chinese civilizations. Some schools of thought place charting the motions and influences of the planets firmly in the hands of an educated elite class of nobles, kings, and/or priests, but one of the joys of astronomy is that when it comes to several of these planets anyone can observe them and share in their wonder. The planets have been thought to influence people and been associated with powerful deities in popular astrological thought (just ask anyone somewhat knowledgeable about their “Saturn return” and they’ll tell you how tumultuous their mid-twenties were). They have also been a part of folk magical thought in North American as well. So I thought it might be good to take a little solar system tour and see what sorts of enchantment gets attributed to our celestial neighbors.

A quick note: in the interest of keeping things brief and brisk, I’m only going to talk about the planets commonly named in folkloric texts. That means poor, lonely Pluto gets only a brief mention and bodies like the dwarf planet Ceres are not going to get any attention. Similarly, the outer planets are going to have significantly less magical lore than the inner ones because they just aren’t easily visible. Additionally, I’m not going to talk about the Sun, Earth, Moon, comets/asteroids, or other heavenly bodies since 1) we’ve done some articles on things like comets and eclipses already and 2) I would like to sleep again someday and if I try to cover everything I will probably be writing for a very long time to come. Healthy boundaries make for good New World Witchery articles.

On to the celestial dance!

GENERAL LORE

Broadly speaking, much of the lore regarding planets comes from the more “learnéd astronomer” types and depends on written manuals of magic. We find grimoires laced with planetary lore that assigns different planets particular spirits and intelligences. However, a few standard manuals that found their way into folk magic included texts like Nicholas Culpepper’s Complete Herbal, which took the more formal astrological associations and assigned planetary correspondences to plants. Culpepper even introduces his text with the following note about why planets and plants are so intimately linked:

“And herein let me premise a word or two. The Herbs, Plants, &c. are now in the book appropriated to their proper planets. Therefore, first, consider what planet causeth the disease; that thou mayest find it in my aforesaid Judgment of Diseases.

Secondly, Consider what part of the body is afflicted by the disease, and whether it lies in the flesh, or blood, or bones, or ventricles.

Thirdly, Consider by what planet the afflicted part of the body is governed: that my Judgment of Diseases will inform you also.

Fourthly, You may oppose diseases by Herbs of the planet, opposite to the planet that causes them: as diseases of Jupiter by herbs of Mercury, and the contrary; diseases of the Luminaries by the herbs of Saturn, and the contrary; diseases of Mars by herbs of Venus, and the contrary.

Fifthly, There is a way to cure diseases sometimes by Sympathy, and so every planet cures his own disease; as the Sun and Moon by their Herbs cure the Eyes, Saturn the Spleen, Jupiter the liver, Mars the Gall and diseases of choler, and Venus diseases in the instruments of Generation.”

In the same way that Culpepper’s Herbal held a great deal of sway over folk magical thought on herbs and folk medicine, so too did many of the almanacs produced over the years influence folk magicians in their practice. So many almanacs were produced it would be daunting to list them all here, but many were valuable because they provided astrological guidance for agriculture, weather, and much more. Some of that material also derived from older grimoires and texts on “natural philosophy” that linked planets to colors, days of the week, and other correspondences that then became accepted as fact within folk magic. For example, one encyclopedia of folklore notes that:

“The Babylonians believed that

the five planets, Mercury, Venus,

Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, were

“interpreters of human fate,” and

foretold events by the rising and

setting and by their colors.”

That same source also makes the point that Uranus and Neptune weren’t known during earlier times (and even goes on to mock natural philosophers like Emanuel Swedenborg who claimed to have visits from planetary spirits, but only ones from known planets and strangely not from Uranus and Neptune). 

Still, the common beliefs about planetary influence were widespread enough that many beliefs about the roles particular planets played in our lives stuck around.

MERCURY

The first planet from the Sun is Mercury, taking its name from the Roman god for messengers, thieves, commerce, and travel (and by extension through his earlier Greek counterpart Hermes, a psychopomp who guided the souls of the dead on their final journey into the Underworld). Mercury has a rapid orbit, something early astronomers likely noticed, and engages in solar transits on a fairly predictable schedule. In magical thought, planetary Mercury also oversees many of the spheres that fell into the Roman god’s purview. Jewish astrologers, for example, used Ptolemaic astrological guidance to create tables assigning the planets particular traits, and Mercury held sway over “wisdom, intelligence, learning, trades, and occupations” (Trachtenberg 252). The planet is also associated with the archangel Raphael in some Jewish and Christian traditions, known as Israfil in Islam. Raphael is often depicted as a messenger angel and is one of only a few angels given a name in biblical and talmudic texts.

Mercury was associated with the color blue in astrological texts, and sometimes thought to have dominion over water or ice (at least before the discovery of Neptune, that is). It rules both Gemini and Virgo, making those two signs ones marked by intellectualism, study, wanderlust, and communication (full disclosure, the author is a Gemini with a PhD who has lived on more than one continent and who, obviously, writes). A thirteenth-century astrological manual called the Early South-English Legendary says of those ruled by Mercury that:

In books he shall be studious

And in writing curious…

He loveth ease, he loveth rest,

So is he not the worthiest ;

But yet with a little business

His heart is set upon riches [author’s transliteration]

So those ruled by Mercury may not be the most industrious, but manage to be clever enough to get more done with less–doing with one hand what others might do with two, one could say.

In folk belief, Mercury is thought to rule over aspects of the body that might be linked to the mind and movement: the brain and nervous system of course, but also the respiratory system as well as hands and arms, throat, mouth, and ears. Culpepper lists several herbs that are linked to treatments of the nerves and respiratory system as Mercurial. For example, mountain mint is ruled by Mercury and Culpepper notes it is “excellent good in all afflictions of the brain.” He says the same of herbs like dill and germander, also ruled by Mercury. Curiously, he makes a note that Mercury-ruled hazelnuts are thought to be good for the lungs by their association, but then digresses to say “if this be true, as it is, then why should the vulgar so familiarly affirm, that eating nuts causes shortness of breath, than which nothing is falser? For, how can that which strengthens the lungs, cause shortness of breath?” As someone who is the parent of a child with tree nut allergies, I can very easily see why using hazelnuts to strengthen the lungs would be a bad idea in many cases (and I note that such tree nut allergies are not a new phenomenon as they are being described in quite an old book).

Perhaps no other aspect of Mercury is so widely known in folk magical thought as its tendency to wreak havoc when it is in retrograde. Because Mercury rules areas of communication–and by proxy much of the technology we use regularly–its retrograde periods are times when many will attribute any failure in their smartphone, laptop, or relationship to that wily planet. In truth, a retrograde is simply a period of time when a planet appears to move backward because of our own perspective. Thus it might actually be better for folk magicians to think of Mercury’s retrograde as a time for reflection and contemplation (although it might also be an effective time to curse someone’s Tesla should the impulse strike you).

VENUS

Venus is probably the planet with the most lore in our night sky, not least because it holds the honor of being both the Morning Star and the Evening Star. It is, of course, a planet and not a star but it shines very brightly and consistently appears near the horizon at both morning and evening. Folk astrologers list its color as white likely because it shines so clearly and brightly in the night sky. Interestingly, the orbital path of Venus means that it does an eight-year dance that–when mapped out–creates a pretty profound shape: a five-pointed star or five-petaled flower. These “petals of Venus” make the planet–named after the Goddess of love and beauty–a powerful influence over our emotional lives. English poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson described Venus as “the planet of Love” in his sensual poem “Maud,” describing her morning arrival as “In a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, To faint in his light, and to die.”

Tennyson’s association of Venus with dying also appears in his long lament, “In Memoriam: A.H.H.,” written after the death of his close friend (and possibly livelong love) Arthur Hallam. There Tennyson calls Venus “Hesper-Phosphor,” names for the morning and evening stars, and says ““Sweet Hesper-Phosphor, double name/ For what is one, the first, the last,/ Thou, like my present and my past,/ Thy place is changed; thou art the same,” meaning that death leaves his love for his friend untouched, although it may look different through grief. That mournful aspect of Venus is echoed in some Australian lore as well:

If a person thinks he sees the

planet Venus set twice in one night,

he will soon be struck with death.

(Daniels 999)

That same source also notes that the Burmese people call Venus the “stars of death” who are thought to be lights that guide the way into the underworld. 

Christian symbolism adopted Venus as well, with Jesus taking on the title of “Morning Star” (and eventually passing that ascription on to Satan/Lucifer, since the Luciferian name of “Light Bringer” was already connected to Venus in Ancient Roman thought). A bit of lore from New England notes that “Pagans considered Friday a lucky day, for the ‘fortunate planet,’” because “Venus influences the world on that day.” Of course, that source also notes that Christianity turned the joy of Friday on its head because Christ died on a Friday (Cahill 38).

Folk medical astrology associates Venus with the “Instruments of Generation” as noted above, meaning pretty much anything you do with your no-no square is covered by Venutian power: sex, urination, kidneys, reproductive health more generally, etc. Culpepper notes that some of the plants ruled by Venus include alder, beans, lady’s bedstraw, birch, burdock, cherries, daisies, foxgloves, goldenrod, artichokes, lady’s mantle, mint, mugwort, peaches, pears, pennyroyal, plums, meadowsweet, some roses (although interestingly red roses fall to Jupiter), strawberries, thyme, and vervain. The last of these is also known as the “witch’s herb,” and it may be worth noting that many of the Venutian plants have witchy associations. Birch, for example, is connected to witch-goddesses like Perchta/Berchta, mugwort is good for psychic dreaming, and foxglove can cause sensations of flying due to its effects on the heart (it is lethal depending on the dosage, though, and not one to play around with, unless you’re trying to find out about those connections between Venus and death).

MARS

Our bright red neighbor is named after the god of war, and is seen by many as a planet of assertiveness. Astrologer (and early Harvard graduate) John Forster claimed in his 1680 almanac that Mars was “hot and dry in excess, causing [extreme] heat in Summer, and warm air in Winter, likewise Storms of Rain, Hail, Thunder, Lightning.” This hot, turbulent effect extended beyond atmospheric conditions, though. Almanacs of the period also saw a link between Martian influence and illness. An outbreak of “sweating sickness” (likely a novel viral outbreak of some kind) in 15th century England was linked to “a notable Conjunction of Saturn and Mars” (Hall 60). This association with poor health seems quite old, as a fourth century C.E. text by theologian Firmicus Maternus noted that a person born when “Mars receives rays from a waxing moon” could expect to “die violently” (Copenhaver 187). Such a link seems to have lingered on for nearly two millennia, as an informant in West Virginia was recorded in the twentieth century as noting “if the moon is afflicted by Mars…at the time fo the child’s birth, he will go blind” (Brown 126). Jewish lore associated Mars with the angel Samael, and with attributes of “blood, the sword, evil, war, enmity, envy and destruction” (Trachtenberg 251-2). That’s a lot to pile on a planet that just sits there in our night sky giving of a lovely orangey-pink glow!

Not everything was bad about Mars, though. In the Latin Picatrix–a thirteenth century magic manual translated from a likely eleventh-century predecessor–Mars is personified through the first “decan” or degree progression of Aries as “a restless black man with a large body and red eyes, holding a cutting axe in his hand and belted with a white garment, and this is of great excellence in itself. It is a face of courage, serenity, and unashamed excellence” (Copenhaver 288). 

William Lilly, a well-known 17th-century occultist and astrologer, provided a series of correspondences that linked Martian influence with warm, windy weather (including thunder and lightning) as well as connecting all herbs that “ come near to [redness], whose leaves are pointed and sharp” and “whose taste is [caustic] and burning.” Among the many he highlights are most forms of thorn and chestnut, as well as nettles, spurge, onion, ginger, leeks, and pepper (Baker 346). A trip for some Thai food would be very Martial in nature, then, it seems!

JUPITER

Jupiter is of course named for the King of the Gods, the latinized name of Zeus (derived from “Ieus” or “Deus” which referred to Zeus’ status as a sky god and “pater” meaning “father”). Jupiter’s presence as a planet was seen as very fortuitous, especially when he shone brightly as he’s doing this month. 

Our biggest planet is also one that has provided magicians with all the good stuff. According to the Key of Solomon Jupiter could “reveal hidden treasures,” and through the use of Jupiterian symbols one could gain “glory, honours, dignities, riches, and all kinds of good, together with great tranquility of mind” (Dillinger 90). Lilly notes that Jupiter is connected to “the Sweet or well scented Odours,” as well (Baker 347), while Culpepper’s Herbal connects Jupiter to the sense of taste. Culpepper also links Jupiter to agrimony, betony, borage, cinquefoil, and dandelion, which Culpepper notes to be “of an opening and cleansing quality, and therefore very effectual for the obstructions of the liver, gall and spleen” (which feels kind of shady given that Jupiter’s Greek counterpart, Zeus, had an eagle tearing out poor Prometheus’ liver every day).

Jewish lore connects Jupiter to to “life, peace, joy, wealth, honor,” and “sovereignty.” One source links Jupiter’s influence to weddings in Jewish culture, and comments that wedding rings were often procured and inscribed with a blessing under Jupiter’s influence (Trachtenberg 252; Daniels 1002). 
Also, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that in rewatching Twin Peaks the celestial clock that counts down to the opening of the spooky and sorcerous Black Lodge comes when Jupiter comes into conjunction with Saturn. So there’s that.

Which, I think, means it’s time to head to our next planet!

SATURN

Listen, the Saturn return is no joke. The upheaval that comes in one’s late 20s can be chaotic, and there’s a reason we associate the 50s with “midlife crisis.” Saturn’s influence is often thought to be a bit dark, with one source even noting that “Saturn is a very evil planet to be born under” and stating that those who are so fated will be “wranglers, chiders, and they will never forgive until they are avenged of their wrongs” (Daniels 1001). Which actually sounds like they’d make some pretty terrific anti-heros, right?

In Trachtenberg’s Jewish Magic and Superstition, Saturn is associated with “poverty, wounds, illness, and death,” so nobody’s having a good time with this planet. This is also found in other lore, as one source records a Hindu belief that when Saturn aligns with Mars it will “produce putrid diseases” and that while it rules by itself it prompts “much theft and little charity” (Daniels 1001. The power of conjunction is a major part of Saturn’s magical lore. One astrologer from the Royal Society of England, John Flamsteed, noted that in 1682-83 that when Saturn and Jupiter formed several conjunctions, “the Common People have admired to see the two Superior Planets Saturn and Jupiter continue so near” but that “our Astrologers have affrighted them with fearful Predictions of direful events” (Stahlman 556-7). 

Culpepper notes that herbs ruled by Saturn include the elm tree, the poplar tree, holly, ivy, and hemp, as well as a number of poisonous plants like hellebore, henbane, and nightshade, further linking it to death (or giving those anti-heroes some useful tools, maybe).

THE LONELY PLANETS (URANUS, NEPTUNE, & PLUTO)

The lore of the outer planets is scarce, mostly due to their discovery so late as compared to the more “visible” planets already listed. However there is a bit of lore that these planets might influence people to become “very learned, cautious and require a reason for everything. They are fond of history, and liable to have headache and stomach Troubles” (Daniels 1001). 

And then there’s poor Pluto, no longer a planet officially. But somehow it’s hard not to identify a little bit with this lonely little planetoid. It always makes me think of the famous “pale blue dot” photo taken by the Voyager I spacecraft as it passed Pluto and exited our solar system (sort of, since the photo was taken in 1990 and Voyager 1 finally left the actual range of our sun’s heliosphere in 2012, which should give you an idea just how big space is). Carl Sagan suggested that the craft take that last photo, turning back to face us before its exit, and in 1994 he shared his thoughts on what those farthest reaches of space say about us:

“From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar”, every “supreme leader”, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.”

Maybe that’s not folk magic, but there’s something enchanting about that all the same.

And so we end our tour of the planets. I know this hardly scratches the surface of the many ways these planets have been incorporated into magical thought and lore, but even this quick look shows you how much there is. Knowing everything about these planets is wonderful, perhaps, but if you can try to get outside and look up while they are all dancing in our sky. That’s really the most magical thing. To me, anyway. 

Happy star-gazing everyone. Thanks for reading. And be well.

-Cory

REFERENCES

  1. Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World, by Cora Daniels (vol.2)
  2. Magical Treasure Hunting in Europe and North America: A History, by Johannes Dillinger
  3. “Astrology in Colonial America: An Extended Query,” by William D. Stahlman in The William and Mary Quarterly, Third Series, Vol. 13, No. 4 (Oct., 1956), pp. 551-563.
  4. The Complete Herbal, by Nicholas Culpepper. London, 1850.
  5. Olde New England’s Strange Superstitions, by Robert Ellis Cahill. Massachusetts, 1990.
  6. Jewish Magic and Superstition: A Study in Folk Religion, by Joshua Trachtenberg. New York, 1961.
  7. “The Seven Planets,” by P.J. Heather. Folklore, Vol. 54, No. 3 (Sep., 1943), pp. 338-361 (https://www.jstor.org/stable/1257293) 
  8. The Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, By Frank C. Brown. Vol. 6. Wayland Hand, ed. Duke Univ. Press, 1961.
  9. “Almanacs and the Disenchantment of Early America,” by Peter Eisenstadt. Pennsylvania History, Vol. 65, No. 2 (Spring 1998), pp. 143-169.
  10. Worlds of Wonder, Days of Judgment, by David D. Hall,1989.
  11. The Book of Magic: From Antiquity to the Enlightenment (Penguin Classics), ed. Brian Copenhaver, 2015. 
  12. The Cunning Man’s Handbook, by Jim Baker, 2014.

Entry 241 – Summerween

It’s time for Jack-o-Melons and Folk Magic!

(image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, 2024)

Happy Summerween!

Wait, do you not celebrate Summerween? Or even know what Summerween is? You could be forgiven for missing this, as it’s more of a tongue-in-cheek nod to those of us who can’t get enough spookiness in our lives and find that the long, languid days of summer drag out the time before Halloween. In truth, the actual name “Summerween” derives primarily from an episode of the Disney animated series Gravity Falls, which is sort of a cartoon version of the X-Files with a lot more weirdness, humor, and satire. Cousins Dipper and Mabel Pines are spending their summer with their Great Uncle (or “Grunkle”) Stan, who runs a huckster’s tourist trap museum featuring all the oddball weirdness of the Pacific Northwest. The town of Gravity Falls, Oregon (a fictional place) is known for its surplus of gnomes, zombies, creepy child televangelists, mermen, and mind demons, which leads to a number of adventures as the kids slowly unravel the area’s secrets over two seasons (I will pause momentarily to say that this is an excellent show and I always highly recommend it). In an episode from Season One, the kids and Grunkle Stan decide to celebrate Summerween, a sort of “extra” Halloween because the town loves weirdness so much. Instead of pumpkins, locals carve Jack-o-Melons out of watermelons, and most of the candy is the “garbage candy” that no one wants to eat–black licorice and circus peanuts, for example. Trick-or-treating is done in costumes, and there’s even a local urban legend about a “Summerween Trickster” who eats children that don’t show adequate Summerween spirit. 

In recent years, Summerween seems to have picked up a bit of traction, and some social media accounts proudly display their own Jack-o-Melons and other Summerween decorations. All of that got me thinking, “How could we make Summerween a real, witchy thing?” Obviously there’s always going to be a bit of the wry wink-and-nod nature to the holiday, but as I unpacked it I realized it is entirely possible to add some folk magic, spookiness, and darkness even to the longest days of the year. So today, I’ll be looking at some of the components that could be used to make a Summerween happen. We’ll see that there are some fun elements of folklore you could put into play here, and maybe you can design your own Summerween festival to help you manage until the heat breaks and we can get to the lovely crisp, cool autumn days once more.

Ingredients

Let’s start with some folklore tidbits gleaned from some favorite summer elements: corn, watermelon, and fireworks (or at least gunpowder, since that tends to be a key component of fireworks). (The following gathered from The Encyclopedia of Superstitions and the Occult, by Cora Daniels; Folklore from Adams County, Illinois, by Harry M. Hyatt; Frank Brown Collection of North Carolina Lore vols. 6 & 7, edited by Wayland Hand; Ozark Magic and Folklore, by Vance Randolph; and Ozark Folk Magic, by Brandon Weston)

Corn has many folk magical uses. (image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, 2024)

Corn

There’s more than a bushel full of folklore when it comes to corn. It’s worth remembering that outside of the United States, “corn” is used in English to refer to most grain crops, while “maize” would be specific to what Americans think of as “corn.” We’ve done a full post on corn before, but still, there is plenty of lore about corn we didn’t get to. Some has to do with growing or harvesting it, such as these beliefs:

  • At harvesting time, if the shucks on corn are thin, it is a sign of a warm winter.
  • Cut corn in the decrease of the moon [while it is waning], to keep it from spoiling.
  • Plant corn when poplar leaves are big as squirrel ears. [Or in some lore, when oak leaves are as big as a mouse’s ears]
  • When three black crows fly east over the field, harvest the corn the next day.
  • Tobacco should be planted with corn as an offering to keep it healthy all season.

Corn also has a lot of luck lore in connection with it, including a strong throughline connected to corn and the various colors of kernels and tassels:

If the first corn silk you see in the year is red, you will be healthy; but if it is white, you will be sickly.

  • If two ears of corn grow together and you get the ear at table, you will hear of a death that day.
  • It is lucky to hang a bunch of cornstalks over a looking-glass.
  • If while husking you find a blue-spotted ear of corn (sometimes known as Sally corn), you will be lucky.
  • It is good luck to find a red ear at a cornshucking.
  • Give a sick cow a red ear of corn, and she will get well.
  • When a person is shucking corn and a number of grains come off in his hands, he will have bad luck.
  • Carrying a piece of corn in your shoe or pocket is thought to bring you good luck.
  • To dream of gathering corn indicates you will be lucky in everything.

There are also some slightly eerier folk beliefs and workings that tie into things like charming, witchcraft, and even curses!

  • If a farmer fails to plant a row of corn in the corn field by oversight, some member of his family will die before the harvest time.
  • If corn stalks, with dirt on the roots, are hung on branches of fruit trees, the frost will not kill the blooms.
  • Having trouble with a bewitched gun while hunting? You can pour corn over the weapon, then feed the corn to hogs to remove the bewitchment and pass it on to them (assuming they will be slaughtered soon).
  • Plait your horse’s mane with corn shucks to prevent witches from riding him.
  • Jaybirds go to hell every Friday with a grain of corn.
  • Scratching a wart and rubbing the blood onto corn kernels, then feeding the kernels to chickens is supposed to make your warts go away.
  • To bury a sheaf of corn with a certain form of malediction and dedication to Satan, will cause your enemy to die as the corn decays. They practice this in certain parts of Ireland.
  • To bind up the last gleanings of the last field into the rude figure of a human being, and take it home and keep it, will insure a good corn crop the following year, and corn will be plenty until that time. [Basically make a corn dolly and keep it in your home for good luck and plentiful corn next year, a concept very akin to the butzeman of Pennsylvania German lore]. This is sometimes called a Spite Doll, according to Ozark folk magician Brandon Weston.

These last two really run the gamut of applications between making the most of your harvest for better or worse!

Watermelons

What would summer be without a cold slice of watermelon and a seed-spitting contest? Since the iconic Jack-o-Melon is a quintessential part of the Summerween experience, I thought I’d gather up a handful of entries that cover melon-based lore:

  • If you plant watermelons or any kind of vines three days after the change of the moon, they will do better.
  • Planting watermelons receives a plethora of advice about when to do it according to folklore. Ideal dates include Good Friday, in April when the south winds are blowing, on the first of May, every Saturday in May, during a New Moon, after apple trees bloom, during the lunar signs of Gemini, Cancer, or Aquarius, and before sunrise.
  • It is considered bad luck to point at or count your melons, which will make them fall off. Similarly, stepping over the vine before the melons are ripe will also cause them to rot or fall off the vine.
  • Several stories mention the idea of putting up poles around your watermelon patch with string or twine attached to them, which will work better to keep birds off than a scarecrow, according to the lore.
  • One bit of lore says that you can wash your face with melon rind to cure freckles.
  • A Pennsylvania German cure for kidney ailments involves making a tea out of watermelon seeds by steeping dried ones in boiling water and drinking it (after it’s not boiling anymore, of course–you all know how tea works).
  • If a child is having trouble with bed wetting, a bit of Ozark folklore says to feed them watermelon seeds before bedtime.

Gunpowder and Fireworks

We’ve already written a good bit about gunpowder, which is what makes fireworks do what they do. There’s also a long-standing tradition of “shooting in” times like the new year by firing guns loaded with just powder or blanks in the air (live ammo was sometimes used, but obviously that is highly dangerous). Gunpowder was mixed into hot-footing recipes and jinx-breaking ones, as well as used to make a barrier around someone or their property to keep them from harm. There are a few additional uses of gunpowder we could add here, too:

  • Pennsylvania German lore says that a cure for homesickness is to sew a good charge of gunpowder on the inside of the shirt near the neck.
  • In some places a dose of gunpowder was mixed with milk to help speed the delivery of a child (NOT recommended and NOT medical advice).
  • Another rather dangerous cure involves putting gunpowder in a bleeding wound. One entry even mentions that it should then be “exploded” (likely just ignited to create a fast cauterization, but again NOT recommended and NOT medical advice as this could cause a number of problems).
  • Gunpowder was sometimes made into a paste by mixing it with egg whites and used to treat acne, boils, and canker sores.
  • Gunpowder has anti-witchcraft properties as well. Some folks would scorch gunpowder in a pan to drive witches away, and one story tells of a man loading a gun with salt and black powder then shooting all around someone’s house to break witchcraft curse set upon the family that lived there.

Odds and Ends

Finally, I had to share a few of the creepier, eerier, or more esoteric bits of summer lore I found as I was researching. If these don’t add a little Halloween energy to your late July days, I don’t know what will!

  • “In Exmoor, if an old woman hears a cuckoo on midsummer’s day, she will not be alive at that time next year.”
  • “If, on a summer morning, a flock of chickens lie low with wings outspread, sunning themselves in a row, it is a sign that they are measuring a grave.” 
  • “Myths must not be told during the day nor in summer, for snakes will come to hear them, if told at such times.”
  • “In very ancient times the ladies used to carry balls of crystal in the hand to enjoy their delicious coolness in the summer, as well as to gaze in the depths to see what their lovers were doing.”
  • The “Dog Days” of summer (which run from July to August and historically coincided with the rising of the “Dog Star” Sirius in the sky) are dangerous times: mad dogs are thought to be more common, as is rabies in general. In some places, there is a belief that even the water in the ground will turn bitter or poisonous during this time period. 
“If an old woman hears a cuckoo on midsummer’s day, she will not be alive at that time next year.”
Have you ever seen a bird look so smug?
(image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, 2024)

There’s more than enough there to launch your own folk horror version of a Summerween festival! You could easily dress your house in corn dollies along with your Jack-o-Melons, carry crystal balls and corn kernels in your pockets, and do an evening of fireworks with photos of exes you’d like to “rocket” out of your life! There are plenty of creepy ways to make the summer yours–just make sure to wear your sunscreen!

Festivals

You don’t necessarily need to invent a Summerween from whole cloth, either. Plenty of festivals and celebrations already happen during the summer and have a magical or spooky side to them. In the Gravity Falls episode about Summerween, Grunkle Stan displays a calendar that notes the holiday seems to occur in late June, but without a fixed date you could connect your own Summerween festivities to a number of other fetes that occur over the sunnier months. 

There is, of course, Midsummer and the associated St. John’s Eve. We’ve written a good bit about those before, and we have a fairly recent Folk Magician’s Notebook episode that shares tales associated with St. John’s Eve as celebrated in New Orleans. In those stories, we often hear about “Voodoo Queen” Marie Laveau hosting celebrations on Lake Pontchartrain with her enormous snake draped around her neck as she emerged from the waters. While the stories may be a bit sensationalized, Midsummer and St. John’s Eve festivities are already stuffed full of fairy lore, magic, and witchcraft that ranges from the Shakespearean to the surreal (such as gathering “fern seeds” on Midsummer Eve). 

(image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, 2024)

In the Ancient world, the middle of summer was also typically the celebration of Kronia (sometimes also Cronia) a festival honoring Cronus/Kronos, the progenitor of the Olympian gods later associated with Saturn in Roman mythology. If you know the story about Cronus swallowing his children at birth then you can already guess there’s some eeriness to this day, which was sort of seen as a lesser version of Saturnalia with its inversion of social order. Rather than the full flip of Saturnalia where slaves took the role of masters for a day and vice versa, during Kronia slaves were simply allowed to act as freedmen for a day, sit at their masters’ tables, and join in games, drinking, and festivities. We know little more than that of the festival, but given how little Cronus was celebrated in religious life among the Ancients, this is likely a good day to work with Saturnine forces–casting long-term spells, harvesting or culling things from your life using a sickle (symbolic of both Saturn and Cronus), or putting a metaphorical dragon in charge of guarding your treasure by doing financial security magic. Hanging sickles from your door does seem like a good way to keep tax collectors away, after all.

Also from the Ancient world, we’ve got the celebration of Fortuna, which falls typically around June 24th. The goddess of fortune–both good and bad, mind you–Fortuna is frequently shown with a ship’s rudder (to steer the ship of destiny), a ball or wheel (like the Wheel of Fortune tarot card), or a cornucopia (symbolizing the hoped for abundance she could provide, but also recognizing that a harvest must be reaped AND sown, and that everything comes in seasons and cycles). Propitiation of Fortuna can be as simple as setting up an altar to her with symbols like balls, wheels, boats, coins, money, and so forth. I like to keep bay leaves on my altar to her to recognize her role in success, and often ask that as her wheel turns I can “bend without breaking” when I need to endure a low point on that wheel. You might easily incorporate some of her symbolism in your Summerween: wheels, cornucopias, boats, and so forth, but also some of the creatures frequently shown on the Wheel of Fortune tarot card like sphinxes, lions, phoenixes/eagles, or devils. You could easily host a costume party where people dress as any of the “Fortuna” figures to get a Summerween celebration going!

Fortuna was celebrated in Ancient Rome during the Summer months.
(image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, 2024)

Later in the summer, we have Lammas and Lughnassah, both celebrated in early August. Fellow folk witch Via Hedera calls this time “Highsummer,” which also makes sense, and it’s a time for harvesting and heat, which also means a time for bread. Doing bread-based divinations (something we’ve written about and discussed on the show) could be a wonderful way to add some Summerween fun into your life. There’s also the “crying the neck” ritual that involves tossing a sickle at a sheaf of wheat until it is cut. This ties into the folk tradition of “John Barleycorn” and his sacrifice, burial, and resurrection as both bread and fermented bread–er, beer. Once again sickles work well for a symbol here, and a good spooky game of “chuck the sickle at the wheat sheaf” feels like an extremely Summerween sort of sport. 

The summer also means regional food and folk festivals. I could hardly get into all of them, but in your area you’re likely to have some kind of festival celebrating a locally produced food. There are gala days for things like strawberries, chile peppers, garlic, and just about anything you could imagine. Finding out what is feted near you could involve digging into some history and folklore about that particular piece of produce and using it in your magical work and decor (maybe by braiding them into ristras to hang around your home for protection in the case of chile peppers or garlic, for example). Folk festivals are equally abundant. Depending on where you are, you may be connected to any of a number of ethnic festivals such as the Kutztown Folk Festival (celebrating Pennsylvania German folk culture, including a bit of magic and healing from the braucherei tradition), a variety of Scottish festivals like the Virginia Scottish Games or the Middle Tennessee Highland Games, or the Nordic Fest in Decorah, Iowa (a three-day event commemorating the town’s Norse heritage). And of course there’s Juneteenth, celebrating the Emancipation of African Americans in many parts of the United States, which comes with a wide variety of traditions for those who are invited to participate. 

There are some very particular holidays that you might connect with, too. In the U.S. Virgin Islands, for example, the fourth Monday in July is Hurricane Supplication Day, in which offerings and prayers are made to protect the islands from hurricanes. For those with an Irish background, you might look to Puck Fair, a festival from County Kerry that involves making a goat king for a day and dressing both it and everyone else up in ribbons and festival decorations, ultimately culminating in a trip up the local mountain for a Reek Sunday mass (if you are so inclined). Or you might celebrate Tanabata (Star Festival) if you’re from a Japanese heritage, putting out bright decorations made from colorful origami to honor the stars on July 7th (or August 7th if you are in/from Okinawa). 

Finally, even Wall Street has its own slightly spooky holidays that can connect to the Summerween spirit. Folklorist Jack Santino noted that the stock market has its own version of curses in the form of something called Triple Witching Days. According to his book All Around the Year, “On Friday, September 19, 1986, newspapers and television programs carried stories of the Wall Street phenomenon called the triple witching hour, when the stock market undergoes an hour of unusually unpredictable shifts. The term refers not to broomsticks but to a time when ‘stock index futures and options on individual stocks expire simultaneously.’ The results of this are mercurial, unpredictable swings in the underlying value of most stocks. These ‘Triple Witching Days’ occur four times a year, on the third Fridays of September, December, March, and June” (45). Santino links this to beliefs about the role of threes (with these events occurring on the third Friday of every third month) and the fact that three types of stocks expire at the same time (stock index futures, stock index options, and individual stock options). So when someone describes themselves as a “financial wizard,” perhaps we should believe them!

A later section in Santino talks about the eruption of the Satanic Panic and how many of the reported incidents related to it were tied directly to the summer solstice. He notes, “[W]hen the sheriff of a small midwestern town orders the exhumation of supposed sacrifices of ritual murders on the eve of the summer solstice (his sources told him there would be more killings on June 20 or 21), we are witnessing behavior motivated by folk belief surrounding the longest day of the year, a day traditionally associated with magic.” This passage is in reference to a Satanic Panic scare that took place on June 21, 1985, in Spencer Township, Ohio in which the head of local law enforcement followed a rumor mill that led him to excavate a rural spot that was supposedly the site of “an orgy of human sacrifice.” The digging turned up a headless doll and a rusty knife, but absolutely no bodies. The sheriff still proceeded to describe the doll as “decapitated” and indicated that the knife was somehow proof that some sort of diabolical activities must have been going on, but that the Satanists had just been a bit too clever in getting the bodies out of there before he could find them. Oh those tricksy Satanists, right?

The Satanic Panic and its horrifying legacies aside, we really do have plenty of folk material we can call upon in the summer months to put together a richly spooky and magical experience if we wish to. So today let’s dive into some of those Summerween features and see what sort of warm-weather witchery we can make!

It’s a good time to put on some scary movies!
(image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, 2023)

Other Ways to Celebrate

If you’re looking for other ways to enjoy the Summerween spirit, what about spooky stories with a warm-weather atmosphere? While most of our fears go bump in the night when we read a ghost story or watch a horror film, there are more than enough “daylight horror” narratives that they even have their own genre (which is, of course, “daylight horror”). Since we’re a folk magic-positive site, here are a few that have a bit of good folklore and roots-based enchantment woven in among the creaking doors and rattling chains.

  • The Birds (1963) – This Hitchcock film made Tippi Hedren a household name and its marketing irritated a number of grammar teachers (“The Birds is coming”). Where’s the folklore? It’s based on a story by Daphne du Maurier of Rebecca fame, and she was well-attuned to English lore. Birds, especially birds that get indoors, are often seen as a portent of death. 
  • The Wicker Man (1973) – A distinctly daylight horror original. This film is set around Beltane and the welcoming in of summer, complete with naked dancing pagans, a Hand of Glory, and a maypole!
  • Wake Wood (2009) – This Irish folk horror story initially seems like a Pet Semetary variation, but gets a good bit darker and deeper than that. Pagan rituals and magic spells are used to resurrect the dead child of a grieving couple so that they can have three more days with her, only to discover that maybe they don’t exactly want her back anymore.
  • Midsommar (2009) – A24 and Ari Aster have become the surest ways to get me to a movie theater these days, and Midsommar is a good example of why. It’s brutal and a “don’t-look-away” story that chills your heart (and may turn your stomach), about Dani, a young woman mourning the loss of her family, who accompanies her gaslighting boyfriend on an anthropology trip to Sweden to study a pagan ritual. They, of course, get in much deeper than they had anticipated. Tons of great folk magic shows up here, including the use of menstrual blood in food as part of a love (or lust) spell, and oh, there’s another maypole, too.
  • Lamb (2021) – This creepy Icelandic film involves a rural family who find that their ewe has given birth to a strange creature that is half-sheep, half-human. They decide to raise the child, and a variety of twisted events begin to collapse all their suppositions about the world they live in. This one is based very much on the lore of the “monstrous birth” portending momentous change for those who were near when it happened. 
  • Gravity Falls (2012-2016) – Yes this is a television show, and yes, it’s a Disney animated show ostensibly for kids. But there’s a lot more to this one than that. After all, this is where we get the concept of Summerween at all! If you enjoy things like the X-Files, Outer Limits, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Riverdale, or the Twilight Zone, this show has something for you. The stories and characters are fun and make for good casual watching, but there’s also a massive connected story that covers the whole two-season series involving a handshake-deal making mind demon, a creepily adorable televangelist, aliens, portals, secret codes (which the show runs with, including secret codes in every episode that you can crack to get deeper show lore). It’s pretty phenomenal, and has even featured voices from people like Linda Cardellini (Freaks & Geeks and The Avengers), J.K. Simmons (of Spider-Man and Whiplash), Alfred Molina (also in Spider-Man), Jon Stewart (of the Daily Show fame), Weird Al Yankovic, Kyle MacLachlan (Twin Peaks), Mark Hamill (you know, Luke Skywalker?), Patton Oswalt (Ratatouille), Lance Bass (‘NSYNC), and even Matt Chapman (the person behind the internet phenomenon Homestar Runner and breakout character Strongbad). This show holds a rare 100% positive rating on Rotten Tomatoes for a good reason–it’s phenomenal, and it will definitely get you in the Summerween spirit!

And finally, if you want to put all that daylight behind you, consider making the most of the nighttime, too. From late July through mid-August, if you look up you may catch a glimpse of one of the most abundant meteor showers visible in North America, the Perseids. They are named this because they seem to originate from the constellation of Perseus (found between the slightly more recognizable Casseopeia and Taurus constellations). During the peak of the shower, which in 2024 is around the 12th and 13th of August, you might see up to one hundred meteors per hour! That’s a lot of potential wishes made on shooting stars, and definitely something a little bit magical to enjoy as you’re putting out your Jack-o-Melon candle.

Whatever you do for your Summerween, we hope it gets you through the last of the season and through until Autumn and Halloween proper. For now, though, we wish you a magical celebration and we hope you find a way to appease the Summerween Trickster before the night is through (we hear five hundred pieces of candy including Gummy Chairs and Mr. Adequate Bars will do the trick)!

Thanks for reading, and Happy Summerween!

-Cory

References

  1. Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World, by Cora Daniels
  2. The Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, edited by Wayland Hand
  3. “The Path of the Seasons,” by Via Hedera
  4. Holidays, Festivals, and Celebrations of the World Dictionary (3rd Ed.), edited by Helene Henderson
  5. Gravity Falls (2012-2016), created by Alex Hirsch
  6. Folklore from Adams County, Illinois, by Harry M. Hyatt
  7. The Encyclopedia of Spirits, by Judika Illes
  8. Ozark Magic & Folklore, by Vance Randolph
  9. All Around the Year, by Jack Santino
  10. Ozark Folk Magic, by Brandon Weston
Happy Summerween Everyone! Enjoy the sunlight and spookines!
(image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, 2023)

Entry 240 – Mosses and Ferns

From stuffing dolls to invisibility spells

You can blame this one on the book club. We recently finished reading and discussing Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass for our Patreon book club, which is a beautiful series of essays on ecology, indigeneity, motherhood, science, spirit, and stewardship that I thoroughly recommend. Kimmerer is a botanist by trade, and a bryologist by specific discipline, which means she specializes in the study of mosses. I listened to a fascinating interview with her on the podcast Ologies with Allie Ward in which she describes the miniscule rain forests that exist within the carpeted world of mosses and their cousins, lichens. 

Spending the time with Kimmerer through her work and her hypnotic voice (seriously, go listen to her interviews or essays) must have put me in a receptive mood, because I’ve been noticing mosses and lichens popping up in my folklore texts a lot recently. So today I thought I’d share a bit about that folklore from a more magical perspective. I’m also rolling in ferns, since both can be found together in forests, as well. It also helps that ferns have a good deal of magical lore, too. I should also note that my aim here is not a strict botanical examination of these plants, so there are going to be some “mosses” and “fern” related items that might not strictly fit the scientific classifications. 

I will, however, start with a scientific note. One of the first points to address is some of the most common lore about mosses: that you can always figure out what direction north is since moss always grows on the north side of trees. Strictly speaking, this is not universally true. What mosses like is moisture, and moisture lingers longest in shady spots rather than sunny ones. As Tristan Gooley puts it in his excellent guide to observing the natural landscape entitled The Lost Art of Reading Nature’s Signs, “[m]osses need water to reproduce and so are a dependable indicator of places that retain moisture…shady places are moister than sunny ones; these are more common on north-facing surface and so, if you have eliminated other causes of moisture, then mosses can point the way north” (my emphasis). So yes, if you’re lost in the woods, moss is better than nothing, but remember there’s potentially a lot of moisture around and the moss should be only one tool in your natural-compass arsenal. An interesting bit of lore from Harry M. Hyatt’s Folklore from Adams County, Illinois inverts the north-growing moss trope and says that “A hard winter always follows the appearance of moss on the South side of trees in autumn.” Moss also helped predict weather based upon its own moisture content, at least in this snippet of lore: “When the mountain moss is soft and limpid, expect rain. When mountain moss is dry and brittle, expect clear weather” (Daniels, p. 819)

Moss is also used as folk medicine by some. In Pennsylvania German folk practices, one remedy for diarrhea recommends boiling tree moss in red wine and drinking it to relieve the problem (Harms/Hohman, p. 68). Its soft, spongy nature also made it useful for dressing wounds in some situations, as well. That texture also makes it a popular filling for dolls and poppets, too. One of the best known applications of this is the use of Spanish moss in the creation of doll baby spells in Southern folk magic. Strictly speaking, Spanish moss isn’t actually a moss, but a flowering plant, but in folk thought if it looks like a moss and squishes like a moss, well…I mean just look at the name! (Of course, it’s also not Spanish in origin, so maybe don’t look too closely at the name). 

(Spanish Moss draped from trees. Photo by Huron H. Smith, 1908. via Wikimedia Commons)

One of the more interesting magical connections is between moss and the dead. Several bits of folklore describe gathering “skull moss,” which is simply moss or lichen scraped off of a gravestone or human remains. Scott Cunningham recommends carrying moss scraped from a gravestone for good luck, “especially financial luck” (p. 156). This lore is echoed in The Encyclopedia of Superstitions and the Occult as well, which also notes that An old superstition says that when a robin redbreast finds a dead body, it will cover up at least the face, with leaves or moss” (p. 687). Moss softens and blankets, which may contribute to this lore, and offering the dead a bit of comfort in the form of moss may be where the luck aspect of this comes from. Stranger still is a fragment of North Carolina folklore that notes “White moss from the skull of a murdered man, picked in a graveyard at the full o the moon, and tied in a piece of blue cotton cloth around the neck, will win any man” (Brown, p. 574). 

(Image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, CC 2.0 License)

Moss also shows up in the famed “Language of Flowers,” and is used to encode messages to recipients who understood the meaning of different kinds of moss in a bouquet or arrangement:

  • Iceland moss represented health 
  • Wood moss represented maternal love or ennui
  • Lichen represented dejection and solitude (Daniels, p. 794-95)

The widely varying range of meanings here may have something to do with the many varieties of moss, but it could also be rooted in the way moss appears to interact with its environment–the green lushness of moss could signify health for many people, for example, while the way lichens can “hide” on trees and rocks could connect to the solitude meaning. The clinging nature of moss also makes it fit the feelings of connection and love. We’ve already mentioned that Irish moss is sometimes put in the corners of shops to make them more prosperous in our post on occupational folk magic, largely because of the way Irish moss feels abundant.

(Ferns are often associated with fairy folklore, especially around Midsummer. Photo: Antoni Piotrowski, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

Ferns are also richly folkloric, and connect to the Otherworld, although more through the realms of Faerie than the dead specifically. In renowned folklorist Katherine Briggs’ work, Pale Hecate’s Team which examines fairy lore in England, she notes that “fern-seed” was considered to be a powerful magical ingredient: “A famous herb[…] was fern-seed, which, gathered at the right time and with the right ceremonies, made the man who wore some about him invisible.” She also points out that its power came with risks, because  “It seems to have been almost as difficult to secure fern-seed as to draw up a mandrake from the ground, a herb even more renowned than fern-seed” (p. 169-70). Anyone who knows about ferns knows that they don’t actually have seeds, though. Instead they reproduce using spores released from the undersides of their leaves, which may be what “fern-seed” refers to. Possessing fern-seed offered you a number of powers. Invisibility, as mentioned above, was one of the most common, and is even mentioned as common lore in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part I. Other lore indicated that it would allow you to understand the language of fairies. In much lore, the fern-seed had to be procured specifically at midnight on Midsummer’s Eve (the night before the Summer Solstice, although it is also popularly celebrated on June 23rd). One bit of lore also said that this magical supply, when brought by the Devil for the price of one human soul on Christmas night, would make ap person as strong as “twenty or thirty men” (Daniels, p. 784). One should be careful when gathering fern, however, as plucking it at times other than prescribed will invite thunderstorms in Polish lore, or even cause one to be pursued by snakes and serpents.

Fern could also be used to ward off witchcraft and evil. One superstition says that “It was formerly customary for waggoners to place a bunch of fern over the horse’s ears or on the horse-collar, to ‘keep the devil away’ and to ‘baffle witches’” (Opie & Tatem, p. 147). Cunningham notes that “Ferns can be planted inside or outside the home for protection, thrown on hot coals to exorcize evil spirits or worn to guide the bearer to treasure” (p. 102). Ferns, despite their association with fairies and devils, can also be used to drive them away, and kept on one’s person can break illusion spells and render incantations powerless, too.

(Ferns were thought to be useful for everything from warding off witches to enhancing beauty to improving dental health. Image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, CC 2.0 License)

Maidenhair fern has its own unique lore associated with beauty, likely owing to its name and appearance. Cunningham describes putting maidenhair fern in water, then using the water as a sprinkle to endow one with grace, beauty and charm. It could also be turned into a rinse for hair to make it silkier and more lustrous. 

One of the better-known ferns is the popular Rose of Jericho (also known as the Resurrection Plant). This fern can dry out completely and curl itself into a tight brown ball, almost like a tumbleweed. Then, when given water, it will bloom over the course of a day or so and become verdant and lively again. Using the water from a Rose of Jericho–which would symbolically be infused with vivacity and not a little bit of the miraculous what with the resurrecting bit–is thought to boost prosperity when sprinkled around cash registers or shop doors. Catherine yronwode notes that the water should be added to the plant on Fridays, and then used throughout the week.

(The Rose of Jericho fern is also known as the Resurrection Plant and can survive long periods without water. Image (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson, CC 2.0 License)

One final bit of lore about fern strangely connects it with teeth. A piece of Tyrolean superstition says that placing fern over one’s door ensures that you will have good dental health all year. Cornish lore states that “if you bite with your teeth from the ground the first fern you see in the spring, you will have no toothache all the year” (Daniels, p. 784).

I’ll close with a little rhyme that doesn’t seem to be directly related to any fern lore, but which is too charming to resist:

“When the fern is as high as a spoon

You may sleep an hour at noon,

When the fern is as high as a ladle,

You may sleep as long as you’re able,

When the fern begins to look red,

Then milk is good with brown bread.”

(Daniels, p. 784)

So if you head out into the forest for a hike this summer (or visit a moss-grown graveyard), keep your eyes peeled for ferns and mosses. You never know what kind of magic you’ll find, even in the humblest of plants.

Thanks for reading!

-Cory

References

Video – Eclipse Lore

Disaster! Wolves! Pots and pans? Cory reads his recent article on Eclipse Lore.

Cory reads his recent article on Eclipse Lore while drawing a little illustration inspired by some of the lore and images.

Speed drawing illustration (c) Cory Thomas Hutcheson

All other images are designed by Canva. Music in this video is licensed through Canva Pro.

(Note: Clicking on links may result in financial or other compensation to the video’s creators)

Entry 239 – Eclipse Lore

Doomsdays, weather forecasts, making noise, and hidden treasures

(Image source: Conrad Heingartner (Main), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

On April 8, 2024, contiguous North America will get its last glimpse of a full solar eclipse for twenty years (the next one is due 2044). When we last had the opportunity to glimpse this astronomical wonder in 2017, Laine and I put out an episode focusing on some of the lore and significance of eclipses, and we just released an episode of our Folk Magician’s Notebook that features a lot of eclipse lore as well. We thought it might also be a good idea to compile some of that lore for readers, too, who would be interested in having it to hand as the big day approaches (or just in general out of folkloric curiosity, which is often the best reason to do anything!). So today we’re sharing a few of our favorite tidbits of eclipse-based lore. We should note that much of this material will reference eclipses broadly, so they could be solar or lunar, although we’ll try to be as specific as we can when sources allow. Let’s do some shadow-dancing, then!

Probably the single most pervasive belief about eclipses is that they are portents of some kind. In most cases, they seem to be viewed as fearsome ones, forewarning of doom or calamity of some kind to follow. Biblical prophecies regarding eclipses lean into this, as any Ghostbusters fan knows:

And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood (Revelation 6:12, KJV)

And when I shall put thee out, I will cover the heaven, and make the stars thereof dark; I will cover the sun with a cloud, and the moon shall not give her light. (Ezekiel 32:7, KJV)

In these contexts eclipses are associated with wrath and judgment and destruction and just generally a bad time had by all. It’s important to note, though, that Christianity hardly has a monopoly on eclipses and doomsaying. According to Joshua Trachtenberg’s book, Jewish Magic and Superstition, the Jewish people also get quite anxious about eclipses: “Eclipses of the moon were taken to be especially ominous for the Jewish people. Eclipses of the sun which occurred on October 26, 1147 and September 4, 1187 threw German Jewry into consternation; later it was learned that on these days German crusaders had suffered serious reverses in Palestine” (pp. 251-52). 

One particularly colorful Christian belief about eclipses has to do with a secret planet full of saints:

“There is a planet called Adamida, on which reside the unborn spirits of saints, martyrs and believers. There they remain, awaiting their time to be born into this world. When a martyr is recognized by us, we know that he came from Adamida, the planet of unborn souls. At the crucifixion, Uriel, the angel of the sun, was ordered to interpose this planet between the earth and the sun, thus producing a total eclipse. This is mentioned in the description by the apostles. They say ‘the sun was darkened’”

(Daniels 942).

That may seem like a LOT to derive from a four word biblical passage, but then there has been plenty of ink (and blood) spilled over any number of scriptural excerpts, so a magical planet full of holy people that occasionally blocks out the sun seems somehow almost charming.

Less charming, of course, is the end of the world. Norse mythology features an eclipse event associated with Ragna Rok, or the Doom of the Gods, in the Prose Edda. A volva (seeress) prophecies that as the gods begin to clash with one another, “Then happens what will seem a great miracle, that the wolf devours the sun, and this will seem a great loss. The other wolf will devour the moon, and this too will cause great mischief. The stars shall be hurled from heaven. Then it shall come to pass that the earth and the mountains will shake so violently that trees will be torn up by the roots, the mountains will topple down, and all bonds and fetters will be broken and snapped” (Abridged from the Prose Edda, Penguin Edition, Trans. by Rasmus B. Andersen). As we pointed out during the reading of this passage in our podcast episode, though, the Ragnarok section is immediately followed by a Regeneration section that foresees a renewed earth emerging “green and fair.” 

(Image source: Friedrich Wilhelm Heine (1845-1921)., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

Other religions shared this approach, connecting eclipses with mighty powers but not dwelling on them as fearsome. In Islam, a sunnah (saying of the Prophet Muhammad) collected in the third century by an historian named Bukhari noted that the Prophet once said that “The sun and the moon do not eclipse because of the death of someone from the people but they are two signs amongst the signs of Allah. When you see them stand up and pray” (Volume 2, Book 18, Number 151). 

Still, in the minds of the folk, eclipses frequently meant one thing: trouble. In the Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, one entry puts it quite succinctly, saying “When the sun goes into eclipse, it is a sign of some great disaster.” This sentiment gets echoed in folklore collections from Canada to Mexico and back again, although the nature of the disaster is often not specified. In at least one case, an eclipse on 13 April 1140 was taken as a portent that the current king, King Stephen, would soon be removed from rule. An eclipse followed by a “halo” around the sun or moon in the following days was also thought at one time to portend diseases soon to follow (Daniels 941-43). 

(Image source: By Ji-Elle – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, Wikimedia Commons)

Some of the lore, however, does tie eclipses to specific events, namely weather-related ones:

In addition to an association with storms, there’s a rather “stormy” character associated with eclipses in North American nautical lore (do eclipses also improve segues? So it seems!). In tales of Alfred Bulltop Stormalong, also known asOld Stormy, a character who was the sailing equivalent to John Henry, the legendary mariner is said to continue working the docks and seas well into the afterlife. According to the Encyclopedia of American Folklore: 

Even in the afterlife, Old Stormalong is said to be building ships in the sky, where he carries on his maritime career navigating the heavens rather than the oceans. For this reason, some tales explain that an eclipse is caused by the shadow cast by Old Stormalong’s great ship, and shooting stars occur when they are struck by the movement of Stormalong’s harpoon (Watts)

Leaving aside Old Stormy, what could a person do if an eclipse did seem like a portent of doom to them? Fortunately, numerous cultures came to the same conclusion about what to do: get loud. To forestall any negative eclipse effects, you can beat your pots and pans loudly and shout to scare away anything that might be trying to unleash some wickedness in your home–this is a method used in Ancient Rome, Ancient China, France, Ireland, and Wales. In at least one account of Hindu eclipse beliefs, the text notes that eclipses were a time to give alms to the poor, which would help “relieve the pain which the sun and moon [endure] while being swallowed” (Daniels 943). 

(Image source: Joseph Norman Lockyer, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

There are also a few activities that benefit from eclipses. The same source that describes Hindu almsgiving and the pot-and-pan noisemaker methods also says that while starting a lawful enterprise during an eclipse would doom it to failure, starting something illicit would ensure its success. Additionally, beginning a journey during an eclipse (lunar or solar) ensured its success. And finally, you might just get rich if you had the right bouquet on you:

“During an eclipse, all hidden treasures are open, and if you are wise enough to carry a primrose with you, you will be able to help yourself to any of them”

(Daniels 941)

So that’s a brief look at some of the widespread folklore around eclipses. We hope that you’ll go enjoy this year’s celestial obscuring with care and caution, but also a bit of wonder as you think about what they might mean to you as well. And maybe keep a primrose or two handy, just in case there’s some buried treasure nearby.

Thanks for reading!

-Cory

References

  1. Anderson, Rasmus B. The Prose Edda. Penguin Books/Sacred-Texts, 1936. 
  2. Brown, Frank C. Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, v. 6, Wayland Hand, ed. Duke Univ. Press, 1964.
  3. Brown, Frank C. Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, v. 7, Wayland Hand, ed. Duke Univ. Press, 1964.
  4. Daniels, Cora Linn. Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World. Univ. of Michigan Libary, 1903.
  5. Green, Archie. The Archie Green Collection, 1944-2009. University of North Carolina Archives. 
  6. Hyatt, Henry M. Folklore from Adams County, Illinois. Alma Egan Hyatt Foundation, 1935. 
  7. Trachtenberg, Joshua. Jewish Magic and Superstition. World Publishing Co./Jewish Publication Society of America, 1939.
  8. Watts, Linda. The Encyclopedia of American Folklore. Facts on File, 2020.

Entry 238 – Pregnancy and Birth Lore

Cutting through birth pains with an ax!

Some time ago, I received some delightful news about a friend who will soon be a proud parent to a bouncing baby braucher (Pennsylvania German folk healer). As part of that news, my friend also requested any potential knowledge I might have about protection and safe delivery charms for the wee bairn and their birthparent. That project became a bit more extensive, and I realized it might be information that others are curious about, too, so with their permission I decided to turn it into our article this month!

A brief note and content warning: NONE of this is intended as medical advice. It should be understood as an examination of the folklore of pregnancy and birth, rather than anything to be attempted. Please listen to your medical professionals regarding accurate pregnancy and birth care! Additionally, some of these folkloric tidbits will get a tad unsavory. Animal deaths and bodily fluids are a key part of this lore, so please be aware of that before reading any further.

Rabbits paid a hefty price for human pregnancies in the mid-20th century
(image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson (c) 2023 – CC 2.0 Attribution license)

What to Expect when you’re Hex-specting – Pregnancy and In Utero Protection

The state of pregnancy is often treated in folklore with some degree of delicacy, both in terms of the physical aspects of carrying and birthing a child and in the very language we use to talk about it. Many folk sayings go to great lengths not to specifically say “pregnant” or even “with child,” but rather use euphemisms like “a bun in the oven” or “in the family way” to refer to someone while they are expecting. One of the more potent phrases, though, was to say “the rabbit died.” Why a rabbit? In the early-to-mid twentieth century, one of the more accurate pregnancy tests involved injecting urine into a rabbit’s kidneys. If the rabbit died, then it was confirmation that the person providing the urine sample was indeed pregnant. (Rabbits by and large get the short end of the stick in folkways–rabbit brains were used to help with teething babies and rabbits were often thought to be witches in disguise, not to mention the famous “lucky rabbit’s foot”). Another rabbit-based charm involves taking the rabbit’s foot and placing it under the expectant parent’s pillow while giving them a rather stinky asafetida bundle to wear around their neck, thus staving off any malevolent spirits during the birth process. 

Much lore is devoted to concerns over “marked” babies, who will have birthmarks in the shape of something traumatic from their birth parent’s pregnancy. Usually this takes the form of a simple craving that goes unfulfilled, such as strawberries or apples, which then take the form of red marks on the new child. One account from Tennessee says that a woman who went to see a movie was frightened at one point, and her child came out with a “birth-scald” on its face. At other times, the marking can be more serious. Lore collected in the Ozark Mountains says that a pregnant person should avoid looking at corpses, lest they pass that condition on to their child. A similar bit of lore from the upland Southeastern mountains in North Carolina and Kentucky notes that seeing dead or skinned animals means that a pregnant person will be “confined” soon (on mandatory bed rest).

Many folk groups believed that a fright could mark a baby in the womb
(image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson (c) 2023 – CC 2.0 Attribution license)

One exception to the dead animals rule comes from a Central European Romany spell. In that case, a crawfish shell can be emptied out (the meat should be eaten by the one who is pregnant), then cleaned and dried. The shell can be kept in a little bundle on the person’s body or pinned to their clothing as a protective charm (Illes 838). Another amulet involves taking a sturdy cord and making knots in it to “hold” the baby in place and avoid any harm to it. Even wearing one’s hair in braids can be used to accomplish this.

A few other rules apply to the gestation period, too. One rule states that you shouldn’t make any kind of cap or headpiece for a baby before it is born, or it can cause the delivery to be incredibly difficult and painful. Expectant parents in the Ozarks will even take hats and caps given as gifts and burn them right away to avoid any unpleasant outcomes (Randolph 199). Another piece of lore from Kentucky (and one that I would say we have a different medical perspective on now) notes that Communion wine is thought to be vital to a pregnant person, and that they should be allowed to take it whether they are a member of the Church or not (Brown, NC Folklore v6, p.6).

Talking about a pregnancy is also taboo. In one bit of Italian lore mirrored among several cultures, the pregnancy should not be announced until at least the first trimester has completed, and even longer if possible. Hair is also guarded carefully in Italian folk belief–an expectant parent should only get their hair cut while pregnant on the first Friday in March.

Doing More than Boiling Water – Delivery Magic

Pregnancy is seen as a time of joy and vulnerability, and that comes to a head during the process of childbirth. Even in our modern age, there are still numerous risks to parent and child during birth, and mortality rates for births are still fairly high, ranging from around 20 deaths per 100,000 births on average to a high-end around 55 per 100,000 births among Hispanic parents in 2020.

An axe or knife under the bed was thought to ‘cut’ the pains of birth
(image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson (c) 2023 – CC 2.0 Attribution license)

With that risk in mind, the immediate before-during-after birth period is loaded with folk magical beliefs and practices. One of the most widely distributed is the use of sharp objects to “cut” birthing pains during the process (Brown, NC Folklore p.10-11). Mostly these involve bringing in an ax or knife and placing it beneath the bed of the one in labor. At least one bit of Southern folklore also indicates the use of a plowshare for the pain-cutting implement, too. Some additional charms, talismans, and rites to ease the pain of childbirth include:

  • All locks in the house should be opened, according to English folklore, in order to make the birth go smoothly (Opie & Tatem, p. 27)
  • Similarly, untying knots can be a way to make labor go smoothly as a sort of corollary to the knot-tying charms used during the months of pregnancy. A red string can be tied around a person’s waist to give them strength during the delivery, too (Botkin p. 627)
  • Keeping silver coins stolen from a church in the bed is done to stave off both venereal infections and childbirth pains (Randolph p.199-200)
  • It’s ideal to have a hornet’s nest kept somewhere in or near the house (it can still house hornets if it is outside, although a dried and empty one indoors can work well–as a bonus, if you hang an empty hornet’s nest it will usually discourage new hornets from building a nest near your home) (Randolph p. 200)
  • It’s bad luck to hear the call of the mourning dove while in labor, but you can speed and ease the delivery by wearing a shed snakeskin as a garter around the thigh (Brown, v6, p. 9)
  • A holey stone (hagstone) hung over the bed where the birth is taking place will make the delivery smoother and less painful (Brown, v6, p. 10)
  • The best time for birth is right before or right after the new moon, according to one bit of Southern lore (Botkin p. 627)

One charm worth noting is a specific himmelsbrief (“heaven letter”) used in Pennsylvania German folk magic to offer protection or blessings when carried or worn. I talk a good bit about these in my book, but the application of one of these written charms to childbirth is noted in the Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina folklore, which indexes it to both the German American settlements and to Newfoundland. The specific letter in question is known as the Iconium letter, which purports to have been written by Jesus himself sixty-five years after the crucifixion. The letter has been copied, translated, and shared often, and you can even find a decent copy of it online (in English) through the Library Company of Philadelphia. The Brown Collection entry also mentions that those coming from an Islamic background might use Chapter 84 of the Quran, known as “The Rending Asunder” or similar names. A Jewish tradition of a letter regarding protection from Lilith is mentioned, too, although I found this variant in Joshua Trachtenberg’s Jewish Magic & Superstition:

“A circle was drawn around the lying-in bed, and a magical inscription (reading ‘Sanvi, Sansanvi, Semangelaf, Adam and Eve, barring Lilit’) was chalked upon the walls or door of the room” (p. 169).

Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic & Superstition

In Appalachian lore, a number of plants were used to help with the childbirth process to ease the pains:

  • Golden Ragwort (Senecio) can be made into a tea using leaves and roots, which was done by Indigenous peoples to help with childbirth complications. (Foxfire 11, pp. 131)
  • Partridgeberry (Mitchella repens) – This evergreen fruiting plant was used by Tsiligi/Cherokee peoples, who made it into a tea to be taken in the weeks before a baby was due in order to make the birth go more smoothly (Foxfire 11, pp.138)
  • Red Trillium (Trillium erectum) – This low-growing tri-leaved plant with funky-smelling flowers blooms in the mountains from April until June, but the root was the valuable ingredient. It could be brewed into a tea that treated all sorts of reproductive issues including birth and labor, menstruation, and even menopause (Foxfire 11, pp. 142)
  • Spikenard and Sweet Flag (also known as Calamus root) – This marshy plant was used in the Ozarks as a treatment to ease childbirth (Randolph p. 199)

A final protection involves the burning of chicken feathers, then fumigating the room where the birth will take place, which is said to ease the process (found in both Randolph, p. 201; and Brown, v6, p.9).. Interestingly, there are also charms that involve symbolic images of chickens or other fowls as protective amulets for those giving birth (Trachtenberg p. 169).

Burning chicken feathers was thought to aid in delivery
(image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson (c) 2023 – CC 2.0 Attribution license)

After-Birth Blessing and Post-Partum Protections

The baby’s safe arrival and the parent’s stabilization was only the first part of the magical process, of course. After the birth, a number of folk practices and traditions focus on protecting the new family, establishing a connection between child and place, and other necessities of folk life. 

Some folklore prognosticated on the child’s future. We’ve written especially about the presence of a caul or “veil” around a child’s head during birth–a thin amniotic membrane that was thought to presage a life of Second Sight or connection to the Otherworld. I also talk about the “calling circle” ritual done around a child’s first birthday to determine possible future careers in the New World Witchery book, too. 

Many people are probably also familiar with the famous “Monday’s Child” rhyme which promises to tell the child’s future based on the day it was born:

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child must work for a living.
A child that’s horn on the Sabbath day
Is blithe and bonnie and rich and gay.

This is where the Addams Family chose their daughter’s name, as she seemed a child “full of woe.” There are variations on this, of course, as in this version recorded by Vance Randolph in an old manuscript owned by a woman in Notch, Missouri:

Sunday never to want,
Monday fair in face,
Tuesday full of grace,
Wednesday woeful and sad,
Thursday a long ways to go,
Friday loving and giving,
Saturday work hard for a living. (Randolph 206)

One tradition that made a comeback in the twentieth century (if indeed it ever went away) was the treatment of the placenta after the birth completed. Many people will retain the placenta and either eat it to ensure healthy nursing and a quick return to strength for the parent (it can be eaten raw or cooked, and many mammals do this), or bury it at the base of a new tree to grant the child long life (Randolph p. 202). Another bit of Southern lore says to save the water from a baby’s first bath and use it to water the “name tree” (usually also the tree where the placenta is buried) to link them and make them “blood kin,” so that both will thrive (Botkin, SF, p.627). On the other hand, some lore says that the parent should never be fully bathed/submerged nor their bed linens changed for at least nine days after the birth to protect them from infection and misfortune. That same line of lore says to avoid bathing a child completely until at least three days old, and to avoid washing the palms especially to make sure not to wash away any luck the child may have. Ozark lore indicates that the best water to wash a baby’s head is “stump water,” or the rain that collects in the hollow of a stump, so that the child will not suffer from premature baldness (Randolph p. 204-5).

Planting a placenta at the roots of a sapling brought health and protection to a baby
(image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson (c) 2023 – CC 2.0 Attribution license)

A few other charms and practices are worth mentioning, too. For example, in many places it’s customary for new parents to receive help from their family or community members in the form of food or services–laundry and cleaning especially. Washing and cleaning the house is usually done by older people, however, because any person who can give birth that helps clean the house of a newly-delivered parent will be the next to become pregnant (Opie & Tatum, p. 27). There’s also a taboo against calling a baby “angel,” for fear that it will think itself belonging to the heavenly host and not stay with its mortal family.

The clothes a newborn wears can also impact its future, according to some lore. In Ozark belief, wrapping the baby in a garment of the parent’s–such as a shirt or petticoat–as a swaddling cloth is thought to bring good luck. Clothes worn previously by another baby (who lived) are also good luck and ensure healthy growth, so long as they are never returned (Randolph 205-8).

A few place-specific beliefs also factor into the new life of a child. The parent of a newborn should avoid crossing running water for the first month to avoid bad luck. They should also avoid cutting their hair for at least nine days following the birth (Brown v.6 p.15). Honey and fish should be avoided (interesting, given their connection to Hekate as offerings). Walking the baby around the house/property so that it will “stay” (not die) and know its home all of its life, too.

A Note on the Evil Eye

It would be entirely remiss of me to do anything on pregnancy and childbirth lore and not mention the Evil Eye (or malocchio, mal ojo, or other similar names). This is probably the single most widespread and pervasive piece of folklore connected to children and pregnancy, and is found on most continents among many communities ranging from Turkish, Greek, and Syrian peoples to English, Spanish, Irish, Italian, and African American communities. It has a number of variations, and more than a number of remedies that can involve everything from the famous Hamsa hands and blue eye Nazar amulets to bowls of oil and water and looking at the end of one’s nose. To treat the topic of the Evil Eye is worthy of much more than a small mention in this article, however, and entire books have been written on the subject. I may one day come back around to covering this, but since it’s important, I thought I’d share tips from two recent publications dealing with the topic.

The first is an excerpt from Antonio Pagliarulo’s forthcoming book The Evil Eye: The History, Mystery, and Magic of the Quiet Curse (Weiser Books, 2023): “Take an example from my childhood. When I was a kid, a pregnancy was never announced outside of immediate family

members; it wasn’t even discussed until the expectant mother was clearly showing. I remember my own mother’s reaction whenever she received an invitation to a baby shower. She was confused. She didn’t understand why any woman would risk putting herself and her unborn child in the path of malocchio. To celebrate an event that hadn’t yet occurred—especially an event as delicate as childbirth—was like standing directly in front of the Eye while waving a sign that read: Look at me and how happy I am! If ever there was a way to court danger, it was having a baby shower.” (Pagliarulo pp.6-7)

Here we have echoes of lore we’ve already seen about not announcing a birth too early and avoiding inspiring jealousy, which is usually at the root of the Eye. Pagliarulo’s book contains a great deal more lore on the topic, so I’d recommend seeking it out for more depth.

I also want to mention Laura Davila’s anti-Evil Eye charm for both babies and parents: a mixture of rosemary, basil and oregano steeped in a strong alcohol. This would then be used to mark a cross on the person’s forehead while praying that they be healed from or protected from the Eye, and asking that any such connections to harmful witchcraft be severed. This working, called an ensalmo in the brujeria de rancho tradition, specifically draws upon existing Christian prayer forms, as do many other Evil Eye countermagics (Davila p.125-26). This is one of many simple remedies one can use to protect from the Eye, and it echoes a lot of lore found in other places, too.

There is truly so much lore about pregnancy and childbirth that covering it in this short(ish) entry is a Sisyphian task. I hope, though, that what you’ve read here will offer you some insights and guidance in researching the topic further for yourself. As always, I recommend turning to folk practitioners for their original insights on the subject. Ask those who have helped with births about things they do to ensure a safe delivery and to protect parent and child following the pregnancy and birth, and you’ll probably open up a whole treasure chest of folk knowledge.

As a very final note, I can’t let this article end without mentioning one of my favorite books, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich’s A Midwife’s Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, based on her Diary, 1785-1812. It’s a magnificently annotated and transcribed account of a late eighteenth/early nineteenth-century midwife’s work, and how integrated she was in so many aspects of her community. Bits of folk knowledge come through, as well as a much deeper understanding of the contexts connected to birth and daily life. Do yourself a favor and find a copy if you can.

For now, though, I think I’ve labored long enough on this one, and I’ll place it safely swaddled in your arms to take with you.

Thanks for reading!

-Cory

REFERENCES

  1. Botkin, B. A. A Treasury of Southern Folklore. Crown Publishers, 1953.
  2. Collins, Kaye Carver, Lacy Hunter, and the Foxfire Students. Foxfire 11: The Old Home Place, Wild Plant Uses, Preserving and Cooking Food, Hunting Stories, Fishing, More Affairs of Plain Living. The Foxfire Group/Anchor Books, 1999. 
  3. Davila, Laura. Mexican Sorcery: A Practical Guide to Brujeria de Rancho. Weiser Books, 2023.
  4. Fahrun, Mary-Grace. Italian Folk Magic: Rue’s Kitchen Witchery. Weiser Books, 2018.
  5. Federal Writers’ Project. “Chapter 14 – Folklore: The Living Past,” in Tennessee: A Guide to the State. WPA/Hastings House: New York, 1949. 
  6. Hand, Wayland, ed. The Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, Vol. VI. Duke Univ. Press, 1961.
  7. Hoyert, Donna L. “Maternal Mortality Rates in the United States, 2020.” NCHS Health E-Stats. 2022. DOI: https://dx.doi.org/10.15620/cdc:113967. 
  8. Hutcheson, Cory Thomas. New World Witchery: A Trove of North American Folk Magic. Llewellyn Pub., 2021.
  9. Illes, Judika. The Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells. HarperOne, 2009.
  10. Opie, Iona, and Moira Tatem. A Dictionary of Superstitions. Oxford Univ. Press, 1989.
  11. Pagliarulo, Antonio. The Evil Eye: The History, Mystery, and Magic of the Quiet Curse. Weiser Books, 2023.
  12. Randolph, Vance. Ozark Magic & Folklore . Dover Pub., 1964.
  13. Trachtenberg, Joshua. Jewish Magic & Superstition: A Study in Folk Religion. Behrman’s Jewish Books, 1939.

Ulrich, Laurel Thatcher. A Midwife’s Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, based on her Diary, 1785-1812. Vintage Books, 1991.

Video – An Introduction to Ozark Folk Magic

Wishbones for love? Talking to bees? Ozark folk magic!

In which Cory gives a brief (and VERY high-level) overview of Ozark folk magic, along with a few suggestions for further research and learning. Turkey wishbones for love? Talking to beehives? Moon signs and body parts? All that and more in this video!

Please note that I am NOT a native Ozarker, and can only speak as someone studying folklore. Those who would like to know more should definitely seek out the expertise and knowledge of Ozark residents over what I say here.

Books mentioned in this video include:

Images are designed by Canva. Images from Vance Randolph’s article from Life Magazine are used under the presumption of Fair Use for educational and critical purposes. Additional images via Wikimedia Commons (Public Domain).

Music is “Cattails” by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

(Note: Clicking on links may result in financial or other compensation to the video’s creators)

Entry 237 – Mushrooms

Fungi in folklore and folk magic

Animated GIF of mushrooms growing and decaying
image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson
(use under CC 2.0 license)

Readers, I am probably not the person you want to invite to parties. Unless you happen to be playing Trivial Pursuit at your gathering, I’m inclined to become unnecessarily excited by any subject an unwary guest might bring up in a casual manner, and then—well, it’s all over. I’ll go on an infodumping share that can be, frankly, a lot. 

One of the topics that’s sure to send me on such a tear is mushrooms. I have had a long-standing love of fungi ever since my youth. They were a favorite food growing up (along with spinach, and again, I am quite an oddity I know). They went into Italian pasta sauces, topped mashed potatoes in sautéed form, were a prime pairing on my favorite pizzas (along with pepperoni), and made a perfect substitute for French fries when fried and served with a horseradish cream sauce.

A little over a year ago, I read Merlin Sheldrake’s astoundingly good book, Entangled Life, which looks at the simply unfathomable ways that fungi impact the world in which we live. They are essentially why plants can and do live on land, provide a sort of organic internet between organisms of vastly different species, reshape our brains in both positive and terrifying ways, and lead to violent conflicts among truffle hunters in France (please do not kill dogs over mushrooms, even fancy ones). 

I’ve also long known there were a few connections between fungi and the world of witchcraft. One of my favorite witch stories, “Meadowsweet’s Red Chaplet,” by Robin Artisson, is sparked by an experience with hallucinogenic mushrooms. The best example of this is the Amanita muscaria, also known as the fly agaric or red-cap mushroom. It’s ubiquitous in fairy tale illustrations with its ruddy top and white spots (and even makes a major pop culture appearance in video games via the Super Mario franchise, which does make you wonder just how real our favorite plumber’s adventures are). There are speculations that Amanita was an ingredient in witches’ flying ointments (and I’ve used some very good flying oil made by Sarah Lawless which included it as an ingredient–you should also consider listening to our interview with her on folklore and fungi from last year, too). It most certainly produced hallucinogenic effects in those who consumed it (although it can also cause violent vomiting, too). Some research suggests it was a major component of the shamanistic practices of the Northern European indigenous tribes like the Sami, too, although it is worth remembering that many of the claims about fly agaric’s ubiquitous use and powers are overstretched or impositions from the present onto the past. But red-capped agaric mushrooms do make appearances in witch lore at times. For example, I’ve identified a pair of stories from Irish and Appalachian lore that seem to point to the use of fly agaric in witch flight there, too (I write about it in my book, New World Witchery, as well).

Today, though, I want to look at some of the other mushrooms that show up in folk magic and lore, because when is it not a good time to talk about fungi? (the answer is: trick question, it is always a good time to talk about fungi).

Probably the mushroom most directly associated with folklore and magic other than the fly agaric/Amanita red-cap would be the “toadstool.” This is a bit of a misnomer, as a toadstool is a folk name given to several different broad-capped mushrooms (including Amanita at times). The name, which implies an affinity with toads of course, may also contribute a bit to some toadstool lore. In fact, a bit of lore from the Frank C. Brown collection notes that “The handling of large species of toadstool, sometimes popularly called ‘wart-toadstool,’ will cause warts to grow on the part of the hand coming in contact with it” (p. 311).  Toadstools and toads are not particularly likely to give you warts, but the shaggy wart-like appearance of toadstool spots likely influences the sympathetic magical thinking here. 

Toadstools also appear frequently in fairy lore, often influenced by Victorian ideas about fairies as diminutive creatures who might use such natural items as tables, umbrellas, or, of course, stools to sit on. Seventeenth century proto-science fiction author Margaret “Mad Madge” Cavendish once wrote a poem in which the Queen of Fairies used a toadstool as a banquet table, for example. Dancing or laying in a fairy ring of mushrooms was a surefire way to end up in the Otherworld, or catch the attention of the Good Folk. One of the most famous “Otherworld” journeys in literature, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (and Through the Looking Glass) feature the use of mushrooms to change size, although it is possible that author Lewis Carroll did not intend any psychedelic or magical connotations in his stories. 

One other bit of lore about toadstools, however, gives them a slightly divinatory property. According to lore found in the mountainous regions of southeastern North America (such as the Ozarks and Appalachians), the appearance of toadstools predicts rain. Vance Randolph even says that the “sudden appearance” of such mushrooms is a “sure sign” that rain will come within the next twelve hours (p. 17).

Illustration of four puffball mushrooms
The common puffball (Lycoperdon perlatum), sometimes called “devil’s snuffbox” in folklore
image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson
(use under CC 2.0 license)

Another mushroom that makes frequent folkloric appearances is one known as a “puffball” or sometimes a “devil’s snuffbox.” This is usually the common puffball (Lycoperdon perlatum), although it can be one of a few look-alike species as well. One account of lore collected in Georgia links the term “toadstool” with this mushroom, showing how folk terminology can sometimes apply to a wide variety of species:

“A toadstool is called the Devil’s snuff-box, and the Devil’s imps come at midnight to get the snuff. In the morning you can tell when the imps have been for the snuff, as you will find the toadstool broken off and scattered about. The snuff is used as one of the ingredients of a ‘cunjur-bag.’” 

The “snuff” here are the powdery spores from within the puffball mushroom. If you’ve ever touched a mature puffball, you’ll know these spores can spray out in jets of powdery dust, which is the fungus trying to make more of itself. The snuff-powder clearly draws the influence and attention of devils and imps, which makes me think that the implication here is that these spirits will treat the conjure bag like a kitten would a catnip filled toy. By offering them something they want, they might be compelled to do whatever task the bag was created for.

Another bag-based spell makes use of a toadstool called “frog bread” (possibly also “frog’s bread” or “frog’s breath” based on a later entry in the same volume of lore, which also seems to indicate this is an immature form of the puffball mushroom, too). This fungus gets sewn into a sack with a frog (possibly alive, but most likely dead/preserved) along with a few other ingredients like pins, hair, and finger or toenails. In the narrative account, this bundle was then put into the bed of a woman who was suffering from a wasting sickness of some kind, and it evidently revived her enough that she was “jumping” from the bed (although this may just be the informant having some fun at the expense of Hyatt and playing off the idea of a “frog” cure making someone jump).  (pp. 72-3).

Mushrooms also have a place within the healing work of at least one curandera, a woman known as Maria Sabina from Huautla de Jimenez, Mexico. She used psilocybin mushrooms during nighttime rituals, referring to both the mushrooms and the spirits with whom they connected her as “spirit children.” These rituals would likely have involved dealing with disorders such as susto, a sort of semi-catatonic state requiring a person’s soul to be reintegrated with their body. Unfortunately, Maria Sabina was “discovered” by an American anthropologist named R. Gordon Wasson, who then drove a sort of frenzy of celebrities in the 1960s to her doorstep, eventually overwhelming her and destroying her ability to do her curandera work with the fungi any more. 

Illustration of mushroom growing kit from North Spore company
My family has no idea what they’ve done…
image by Cory Thomas Hutcheson
(use under CC 2.0 license)

Fungi have a lot to offer us, but they remind us that every boon comes with its potential bane, too. In my case, my obsession with mushrooms has grown more intense since reading Sheldrake’s book, and I’ve started identifying wild mushrooms on walks. I’ve had the privilege to read an advance copy of Nathan Hall’s The Path of the Moonlit Hedge in which the author recommends a ritual for connecting with local fungi as an animistic practice, something I’m deeply interested in trying. My family, in what can only be described as a fit of folly which they will almost certainly regret, purchased some at-home growing kits for oyster and lion’s mane mushrooms over the holidays. Already I speak to my beautiful boxes of inoculated sawdust and mycelia daily. This will not end well, I fear (although hopefully with less mind control and zombification than in other mycelium-laced stories like Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Naughty Dog’s The Last of Us video game series).

But possibly I will convince a few of you to give mushrooms a second look when it comes to magic. They are a part of the deep history of earth, and they transcend the boundaries imposed on them. They connect with the realms of dreams and madness and death and hunger, and send shivers of flight and transformation through us (if they don’t kill us first). They are, in a word, magic.

Thanks for reading,

-Cory

REFERENCES

  1. Artisson, Robin, ed. “Meadowsweet’s Red Chaplet,” in The House that Cerrith Built (CreateSpace, 2016). 
  2. Dugan, Frank M. “Fungi, Folkways, & Fairy Tales.” North American Fungi. January 2008.
  3. Hand, Wayland, ed. The Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, Vol. VI (Duke Univ. Press, 1961).
  4. Hyatt, Harry M. Hoodoo–Conjuration–Witchcraft–Rootwork, vol.I (Witches Almanac Press, 2021).
  5. Jay, Mike. “Fungi, Folklore, & Fairyland.” The Public Domain Review. 7 October 2020.
  6. Lawless, Sarah. BaneFolk (website). Accessed 3 January 2023.
  7. Randolph, Vance. Ozark Magic & Folklore (Dover Pub., 1964).
  8. Serflac (username). “Huautla de Jimenez, Mexico.” Atlas Obscura. 8 September 2011.
  9. Sheldrake, Merlin. Entangled Life (Random House, 2021).
  10. Steiner, Roland. “Superstitions and Beliefs from Central Georgia.” Journal of Americal Folklore, vol. 12, no. 47 (1899), pp. 261-71.

(N.B. – clicking on links in this article may result in financial or other benefits to the owners of this website)

Blog Post 236 – Chocolate

It’s getting to be the time of year when we start stockpiling a hoard of sugary treats, most of which will be making it into the plastic pumpkin pails of princesses, pigmen, and pirates. Alternatively, many sweet delights will soon be festooning gingerbread constructions as roof tiles or patio pavers, as well. By which I mean it is, of course, Halloween-to-Yuletide season, a prime time for candy, especially CHOCOLATE!

This holiday gets a lot of attention for its connection to various death festivals, guising, and deals with the darkness, but I thought I’d briefly look at an aspect of the shadowy season with a sweeter side. I’m mostly going to focus on chocolate—largely because it’s a food indigineous to the Americas but also because it’s just yummy—but I will also detour a bit into sugar-based folk magic and lore as well. We covered some of these elements on a special episode for our Patreon followers a year or so ago (a sort of “dessert” episode for our Cornucopia of Magic show), but there’s still lots of good stuff I had to leave on the plate even back then.

Image of a cup of hot cocoa surrounded by cocoa beans and a molinillo
In Mesoamerican culture, cocoa was used as a ceremonial drink and was almost exclusively brewed by women.

I’ll start with a bit of the better-known but still endlessly fascinating lore of the cocoa bean. Many people know that it was used as a strong drink even long before we started piling tiny marshmallows into steamy mugs. The Aztecs and Mayans both brewed it for use in domestic life and rituals, often using a specific device called an molinillo to stir the unsweetened beverage into a heated froth. Importantly, in parts of Mesoamerican civilization, the brewing of cocoa was reserved for women, and through that association (and the frail fears of insecure men) sometimes accusations of witchcraft would surface. In one case, a construction worker believed his wife was using magical poisons on him to make him more complacent, because he suddenly found himself compelled to make the morning chocolate drink for both himself and his wife. He went to local Inquisition authorities, also noting that he could no longer, um, “stir his cocoa” in other ways, and they responded by claiming “All this cannot be a natural thing,” and sending his wife, Cecilia, to jail. Mixing magical ingredients into cocoa seems to have been a common fear, but not without foundation, as at least one recorded curandera recommended that a woman named Doña Luisa de Gálvez wash her nether regions and then use the water to brew her husband’s cocoa. She had a good reason, though, since Doña Luisa’s husband was apparently physically abusive.

In another case, a woman named María de Santa Inés (also called “La Panecito,” or “the little bun/pastry”) was thought to serve her enemies with pastries stuffed with chocolate, leading them to act out of character.

Chocolate was long regarded with fascination and suspicion by Europeans, and eventually became associated with concepts of decadence and luxury. Through that connection, it also became associated with concepts of “sin,” as evidenced by treats such as “death by chocolate cake” or “devil’s food cake” (Watts).  That connection between the indulgent nature of chocolate was also what led to suspicions among Catholic priests and Church officials during the days of Colonial subjugation of the Indigenous peoples. As the Inquisition spread among these Colonizers, the connections between women, chocolate, and poisoning and magic became a frequent focal point of legal and ecclesiastical trials, such as the cases of Cecila, Doña Luisa, and Maria de Santa Ines.

Illustration of two women in a dorm. One feeds fudge to another. A Vassar pendant hangs on the wall behind them.
Women attending colleges like Vassar in the 19th and early 20th centuries were known to have illicit “fudge parties” where they socialized and made pans of chocolate fudge.

Mesoamerican women weren’t the only ones to be associated with wrongdoing because of chocolate, either. It turns out that a number of young women at schools like Vassar in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries would hold illicit “fudge parties,” at which they would use heating lamps to bake up trays of fudge in their dorm rooms. There are legends that link Vassar alum Emelyn Battersby Hartridge (class of 1892) to the creation of fudge in the first place. The late-night snacking was officially forbidden but the young ladies made so much fudge that eventually, schools like Vassar became famous for their chocolatey treat. The fudge parties had the air of a seance at times, with one New York Times article describing them as “sitting on sofa cushions…in a mystic circle around an alcohol stove, from which the odor of ‘fudge’ rises like incense.” The food became a symbol of education and liberation among college women during the late Victorian period.

The power of chocolate is not only in its taste, however, as any realtor knows. Frequently, they will bake a tray of chocolate chip cookies in a home they are trying to sell. It provides a nice treat during an open house, of course, but the scent of sugar and chocolate in the air adds a sense of domestic bliss and is thought to stimulate feelings of joy and pleasure among prospective buyers. Draja Mickaharic mentions a similar trick in his Spiritual Cleansing and recommends burning a blend of sugar (usually brown sugar) along with spices like cinnamon and clove to create a happy atmosphere in a home. Using a bit of brewing cocoa could help add a sense of uplift, warmth, and coziness to a space relatively easily. That meaning also appears in the lore of dreams, with the famed Aunt Sally’s Policy Player’s Dream Book saying that a nighttime vision of chocolate “fortells good health and a happy life.” I’ve found that drinking an infusion of cocoa, cinnamon, and chili peppers with a touch of honey before bed seems to stimulate dreaming for me (although your magical mileage may vary).

Halloween is hardly the only holiday we associate with sweets and chocolate, either. We all know about the cookies of Yuletide or the candy in heart-shaped boxes on Valentine’s, or even the molded chocolate bunnies (shudder) we find at Eastertide. In 1922, however, Cleveland, Ohio began observing another sugar-infused holiday called “Sweetest Day.”  The story goes that an employee of a local candy company thought there needed to be a day when people would take treats and spend time with the “forgotten” of society in order to add some sweetness to their lives. The employee, allegedly a man named Herbert Birch Kingston, would visit the elderly or orphans and bring them little tokens and treats to lighten up their day. The holiday caught on and became a local favorite for a while. Even silent screen starlet Theda Bera got in on the act, reportedly delivering ten thousand boxes of chocolates to hospital patients. It’s celebrated on the third Saturday in each October, which puts it right up against Halloween, but adds an element of community care to the mix that makes it quite sweet indeed (Watts).

Because of chocolate’s status as a luxury item introduced late to Europe, the magical lore connected with it among Europeans and European Americans tends to be more recent. A widespread belief among people in the twentieth century (and even today) claims that chocolate is a potent aphrodisiac. While some investigations have found it can have stimulating and circulatory-improving effects (which might indirectly influence some people’s sexual interest or performance), there’s not a direct 1:1 connection that is scientifically observable. That doesn’t stop it from being associated with sex and romance, of course, and we still see plenty of people offering up their paramours decadent chocolate treats to cap off a sensual meal (and there’s always the traditional heart-shaped cardboard box stuffed with a variety of filled chocolates on Valentine’s Day, although you can frankly keep that weird mint flavored one).

Illustration of three chocolate kiss-type candies. Their labels say SATOR, AREPO, and TENET. The background resembles chocolate bar pieces.
Chocolate’s extreme moldability makes it ideal for figural magic.

One of chocolate’s other advantages is its extreme moldability. Acquiring a silicone or plastic mold in almost any shape makes creating magical effigies very simple, and if you’re using chocolate to make a magical treat the shape can be matched to the intention very easily. Similarly, filling a piping bag with chocolate makes for an easy way to write magical words that can then be consumed by the intended subject of the spell. Thus, if you were trying to bring some romance into your life, you might create a heart shape, fill it with your name and a few words describing an ideal lover or partner, and consume that before heading out on the town for the night (or, in more recent years, before browsing your Tindr or Grindr app). You could also try carrying little “kiss” style chocolates with your phone number on the paper flag (or other interesting spells) as something to hand out to potential partners.

And, of course, if you just want to make your words a little sweeter, having a bit of chocolate before any situation seems to help. Because at least you just had chocolate, right?

Thanks for reading!

-Cory

Blog Post 234 – Folk Magic on the Job

Occupational folklore and magic from jobs including athletes, merchants, sailors, sex workers, actors, and more

Or, “Occupational Folk Magic”

Recently a friend of mine (Kathleen Borealis of Borealis Meditations) shared this image on Twitter:

Screen capture saying “This is 100% @newworldwitchery Is there a study of these?” Further screen capture features two posts: 1. Sometimes people try to tell me that scientists are paragons of rationality and I have to break it to them that I have yet to work in a lab that didn’t have at least one secret shrine in it.” 2. “New guy: why is all of the equipment in this room covered in toys? me: don’t touch those New guy: says nothing Me: they need the toys to function. If they don’t all have toys they get jealous.”


Even the most supposedly rational among us—scientists—are, in the end, human. That means that we are prone to seeing the world through the lens of our own beliefs and folklore even when we don’t rationally believe something. We hedge our bets, because it can’t hurt to treat the electron microscope like a finicky child or say “good morning” to the Petri dishes or explain our problems to the rubber coding duck on our workstation. We might not sincerely believe any of that has a real effect, but we do at least *do* those actions, because they mean something to us at some level.

I also recently wrote a mini piece on Instagram about the importance of recognizing who the “folk” were in the folk communities from which you dip the bucket of your magic. I talked about the communities of “kinship,” which are the ones we most often think of because they relate to family, ethnicity, and even geography to some extent. But it’s important to remember that when we share an occupation with others, that makes us a part of a folk group as well. Those folk ties are called communities of “practice,” because we all share actions and behaviors. Think here of being in school—you very likely had a LOT of folklore you shared with classmates about school legends (what was in that lunch meat, anyway?), games (such as fortune-telling folded paper “cootie catchers”), and even nicknames (whether you wanted them or not). You weren’t likely related by blood to most of your classmates, although you may have had a cousin or two, perhaps. You did share geography, so there’s a bit of kinship, but what bonded you was your status as a “student,” which also separated you from other folk groups in the school like “teachers” or even “parents.” Likewise, the “students” might subdivide into groups like “athletes” or “theatre kids” (my group). And even then, there might be “swim team” versus “cheerleaders” or “actors” versus “tech crew.”

So what do these divisions have to do with magic? Well, each folk group generally comes up with its own folk beliefs, and those folk beliefs are often the root of the practices that become magic in the group. When you have an occupation that takes up a good quarter to a third of your waking hours, those groups become incredibly important and the magic you share with those groups can be some of the most relevant magic you do.

Today, I wanted to look at a couple of occupations and their folk magic, so we can see how membership in these folk groups shapes the way the magic works.

Illustration of a baseball mitt next to a cheese sandwich

Athletes
Since I mentioned school athletes already (and we happen to be in the midst of an Olympic season), let’s begin there. One of the best academic explorations of folk magic in occupations is George Gmelch’s essay “Baseball Magic,” in which the anthropologist looks at the superstitions and rituals of various baseball players. For example, one infielder maintained a ritual of keeping a cheese sandwich in his back pocket in order to ensure his performance would remain consistent throughout a game. This might seem strange, but usually these rituals are borne from observing when a particularly remarkable streak of luck strikes and asking “what was different this time?” So when Wade Boggs noticed that he got multiple hits in his rookie season on the days he ate chicken before a game, he adopted that as a magical practice and ate chicken as often as possible before games. Objects in baseball and other sports can also be seen as animate and empowered. Honus Wagner believed, for example, that every bat only had one hundred hits (he admittedly played when wooden bats were the norm). If batting was going poorly, managers might rattle the bats in the dugout in an effort to “wake them up.” Even the hats players wear can become magical, as seen in the “rally cap” ritual where players off the field will turn their hats upside down and inside out (or “bill up”) to reverse bad luck during a game. Hats are also a central concern of rodeo riders, who won’t wear a new hat for a competition for fear of bad luck. Many also have a preferred “lucky hat” they wear only when riding competitively. Racing drivers have rules about not turning wheels in a parked car (similar to rules about not rocking an empty cradle) and not thing a picture right before a race, as either could lead to a dangerous or deadly crash. There are some sexist practices about racers’ wives not being allowed in the pit or being forbidden to wear green to a race to stave off bad luck, too, but then they also generally avoid eating peanuts in the pit for the same reason (Penrod). Some other magical beliefs in the world of athletics:

  • Most athletes won’t shave right before a game, for fear it will remove their luck
  • Batters (in baseball) and boxers will both spit in their hands to increase their strength during a game or match
  • Some athletes will wear a snakeskin around their waist to add strength or agility to their performance during a game (this is easier in the era of wearing snakeskin belts)
  • Seeing white horses or white cars before a ball game is usually good luck
  • Taking crossed game gear (such as bats or golf clubs lying crossed on the ground) leads to bad luckWearing lucky clothes is fairly common in a lot of sports, but many athletes have a pair of socks or an article of clothing that is lucky and washing it is forbidden (for fear of washing away the luck) (Brown, vol 6)
Illustration of sailor’s compass next to a gold coin

Sailors and Fishers
I’ve covered a lot of maritime beliefs and superstitions, as well as some of the magical rituals associated with life on the sea, in other posts and podcast episodes. But there is never a shortage of folk magic in this field, largely because being out on the open ocean is a very risky occupation, and as both Gmelch and his predecessor anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski have noted, superstition and magic are often proportional to the risk associated with any particular task. Some of the lore associated with working the sea:

  • It’s bad luck for a new ship or a freshly painted one to scratch its paint along the dock
  • Many people know the phrase “rats leave a sinking ship,” so sailors would often pay attention to the behavior of rodents on board for signs and omens of what was coming
  • Whistling on a ship was bad luck, especially because a sailor could accidentally whistle up a gale-force wind
  • The albatross is a well-known omen on boats and should be treated with respect (think only of the woes that befall the titular character in Coolridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”), but it’s also considered very bad luck to kill a dolphin or porpoise, because they were thought to be hosts to the souls of lost sailors.
  • If a bird lands on your boat while you’re on a fishing run, you should return to shore and try again another day (Mullen)
  • Fishing trips should never start on a Friday or they will come to a bad end (either a poor catch or worse)
  • Both Catholic and Protestant fishers may carry a medal or token of St. Andrew to ensure a good catch
  • It is thought that fishing between the hours of midnight and 3 a.m. is unlucky, because that is the ‘fishes’ time’ (Shearer)
  • Coins are often installed at various spots throughout the boat to bring good luck. For example, a silver dollar or fifty-cent piece is frequently placed under the main mast for this purpose
  • Two rather strange taboos are found among Texas fishers: carrying a black suitcase onboard and saying the word “alligator,” both of which are thought to bring extraordinary bad luck (I bet Captain Hook at least would agree with the latter custom)
Illustration of a Resurrection Plant (Rose of Jericho)

Merchants & Retail Workers
While retail and merchandise sales is a fairly broad category, it’s also one that has a good bit of superstition, folk magic, and ritual associated with it. Many people have gone into a business to find a framed piece of currency somewhere behind the cash register or along the entry wall, the “first dollar” made by the business. It is honored and never spent, so as to prevent the business from going under at some point in the future. There are lots of other folk beliefs and workings that have to do with increasing business and staving off bad luck (or bad customers):

  • Anything done to grow a business during the waxing moon is more likely to come to fruition, according to Ozark belief (Weston)
  • Making the first sale of the day was vital. Jewish merchants held the belief that the first customer of the day must be sold, even if at a loss or something insignificant, so as to provide good sales the rest of the day.
  • Business deals should not be done on Friday or they will come to a bad end, and working on Sunday is also bad luck (if you’ve worked retail or service industry, you already know this is true given how many people seem to come straight from church to undertip or demand special treatment from cashiers)
  • Sweeping dirt out the back door of a business is sweeping away all of its luck (Penrod). Similarly sweeping after dark was considered unlucky for business (Brown vol. 6)
  • Money stolen from a business could carry a curse, especially if the business owner was honest. One story from Zora Neale Hurston’s fieldwork reports of a woman who ran a little cigar shop so honestly she usually just left the money out on the counter. A sailor came in and stole the money, then returned to his ship. She rowed out in a dinghy to warn the captain and the sailor that if the money wasn’t returned it would do the thief great harm. They couldn’t find where he’d stashed it so they sent her away, but the sailor failed to show up for his next watch. They found him dead in his cabin, the money clenched in his hand. The captain, of course, immediately sent the money back to the woman as quickly as possible
  • If a man’s beard is of a different color than his hair, the shopkeep should expect shady dealing
  • If someone rattles money in their pocket while shopping or haggling, they aren’t to be trusted either (both of these last two are Ozark beliefs)
  • Sprinkling alfalfa and Irish moss in the corners of the shop is thought to bring in business. Similarly, keeping a Rose of Jericho behind the cash register counter and sprinkling the water over the doorstep of the business is thought to spur more customers to come in and spend
  • Zora Neale Hurston notes that a mixture of water, honey, and Japanese Fast Luck powder could be sprinkled at the entrance to the business in the morning or at midnight to draw large crowds of customers
  • Putting a golden coin (like a golden dollar) somewhere where the sun can shine on it is thought to bring more money your way; silver money shown to the moon will do the same
Illustration of a lipstick tube and a wrapped condom

Sex Workers
If risk and reward breed magic, it’s not surprising that sex work has a number of enchantment rituals within it. Those can range from ways to attract customers and clients to ways to protect oneself in dangerous situations or retain the money earned. Some things, like wearing red clothes or keeping red lights or lanterns on a front porch, are fairly well-known because they are thought to inspire lustful feelings and also to identify potential sex workers to interested clients. Other magical lore associated with sex work:

  • A sex worker should tear the corners of any cash money received, both to avoid any unwanted bad luck and as a way to magically stave off pregancy (NOTE: this is NOT scientifically sound birth control, but a folkloric tidbit…please listen to medical advice about preventing pregnancy and STIs first and foremost)
  • One recipe found in Hurston’s notes says a mixture of lavender, geranium, and Van Van (a spicy sweet blend involving lemongrass and ginger or galangal) could be sprinkled in the house or bed where sex work was to take place to help generate more clients
  • The evergreen boldo leaf can be sprinkled around the space where sex work is performed in order to prevent harm coming to those within; similarly carrying a buckeye was thought to stave off STIs as well (but again, this is NOT medical advice)
  • Carrying a Jezebel Root (a variety of iris), especially one dressed with sexual fluids, allows a sex worker to draw in the type of clients they like best and keep them docile and satisfied
  • Burning a shoe sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar would help draw customers to a house of sex workers (yronwode)
Illustration for drama and comedy masks

Actors
Perhaps one of the most superstitious professions is the world of the stage and screen. Plenty of people know about various taboos behind the footlights, such as avoiding the name of a certain Shakespearean “Scottish play” while in the actual theatre or avoiding the phrase “good luck!” in favor of the more dismal “break a leg!” Plenty of other acting-based folk practices might fall under the heading of “magic” as well:

  • Not only the “Scottish play” brings misfortune. Unless you’re actually performing Shakespeare, even quoting the Bard can bring bad luck in a theatre!
  • Like race car drivers, actors shouldn’t eat peanuts backstage (although there are probably sanitary reasons for this, plus if you’ve ever had a salty peanut stuck in your throat you can probably imagine how difficult a soliloquy might be)
  • There are lots of clothing-based taboos: ostrich feathers on a costume are bad luck, as are leaving your shoes or hat on a bed or dressing table
  • Spitting on your makeup brushes before using them ensures good performances and audiences
  • There’s a ritual of lighting a candle in the dressing rooms just before going onstage and leaving it burning during the opening night performance (obviously dangerous, but if you’ve got an awesome stage manager who can spare a tech to keep things safe, it might work out)
  • Those who are so inclined might carry a medal or card for St. Genesius for luck and blessing during the run of a play

There are no shortage of job-related spells, beliefs, charms, and lore, of course. Some additional occupational magical beliefs:

  • Electricians will carry marjoram and feverfew as a way to deflect potential electrocution (yronwode p. 132).
  • Nurses and public safety service workers often swear that full moons bring out the wildest, strangest, and most intense cases (or at least the largest quantity of ER or imperiled people each month)
  • Coal miners will burn the hat of someone who has recently become a new parent to provide protection and blessing to their family; there are also sexist beliefs similar to those found at race tracks about keeping women away from the mines/workplace
  • Pilots—like racers—won’t take photos right before a flight, and they usually avoid allowing their spouse or significant other watch them take off to prevent any accidents or crashes
  • Seamstresses and tailors won’t do repairs on their own clothes, especially not while they are wearing them, for fear of bringing bad luck (even death)
  • Cooks and chefs won’t keep parsley growing indoors because it can invite death into the kitchen or restaurant
Illustraon of a bag of popcorni

There are probably hundreds of bits of folk magic applicable to every job or occupation you could imagine. I recall working at a movie theater and having beliefs about playing movies to empty theaters inviting spirits to be there, for example (so we’d often let someone clock out and watch at least part of a movie if they wanted to so we could avoid that situation). There are also things like “cursed films” that inevitably bring disaster when screened (The Exorcist and The Omen both have reputations like this, although the curses associated with them tend to focus more on the curses on those involved with making the film).

And all of this isn’t even tapping into the numerous magically-oriented occupations from fairy tales: bakers, spinners, soldiers (who we cover in one of our earlier posts), and so forth. We’ve tackled a number of those occupations in a couple of podcasts previously, but even then we could easily fill another several episodes discussing the topic.

What about your occupation? Do you have any magical lore associated with your profession or job? We’d love to hear it if you do! Feel free to share in the comments or send us an email if you’d like to share!

Whatever work you do, we hope you make it magical! Thanks so much for reading!
-Cory

REFERENCES

Brown, Frank C. Frank C. Brown Collection of the Folklore of North Carolina, Wayland Hand, ed. Vol. 6 (1961).

Gmelch, George. “Baseball Magic,” in Elysian Fields Quarterly, vol. 11, no. 3, pp. 25-36 (1992).

Hurston, Zora Neale. “Hoodoo in America,” in The Journal of American Folklore, vol. 44, no. 174, pp. 317-417 (1931).

Malinowski, Bronislaw. Argonauts of the Western Pacific (1922).

Mullen, Patrick B. “The Function of Magic Folk Belief among Texas Coastal Fishermen,” in The Journal of American Folklore, vol. 82, no. 325, pp. 214-25 (1969). 

Penrod, James H. “Folk Beliefs about Work, Trades, & Professions from New Mexico,” in Western Folklore, vol. 27, no. 3, pp. 180-83 (1968).

Randolph, Vance. Ozark Magic & Folklore (1947).

Shearer, P. “Pennsylvania Dutch Folklore,” from Center for Penn. Studies Archives (4 June 1981).

Weston, Brandon. Ozark Folk Magic (2021).
yronwode, catherine. Hoodoo Herb & Root Magic (2002).