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by Catherine Cheek
If I were a Frenchwoman, I might get to spend the whole month in some coastal town, burning myself on the sand and complaining about the other tourists. If I were Australian, I might go skiing in Tasmania or at very least enjoy a desert winter. But since I'm stuck here without the funds for an exotic trip (or four weeks of paid vacation, for that matter), I have to think of something else to get me through these dog days. August is the slack time of the year. Summer has lost its thrill and it's nearly over, thrusting us back into another school year and another damp autumn.
Lammas is the holiday when we rejoice in the first harvest of the year, and celebrate our connection to the earth by harvesting corn or barley. Unfortunately, most of us don't live on a farm in Tuscany, and the closest we get to nature is at the produce section in the grocery store. It's hard to get into the spirit of things. Still, there is one harvest we can all make -- one that's free to anyone -- though it requires a sacrifice. August is the month of blackberries. Not only are they peaking ripeness at the beginning of the month, but according to the Ogham tree calendar, August is the Vine month -- the month of bracken and bramble -- and bramble means sweet black fruits with thorns.
Blackberries have a bad reputation. It's said that some people in Brittany and Cornwall won't eat them, because the berries belong to the fey folk. In France, some say the fruit is inhabited by the devil, and therefore unlucky. Blackberries are thorny, persistent, aggressive, and grasping. They catch the hair from passing animals, crowd out other plants and scratch anyone who chooses to pick the fruit. In Shakespeare's day, people called lawyers "bramble bushes"; apparently lawyers had the same reputation back then. It's a menace of a plant, and August is a dismal month. Or is it? Life is what you make it.
People have learned over the years that every plant has its use, and every plant has its power. Blackberries have impressive thorns and grow quite tall, making them excellent protection. People used to plant walls of bramble to keep out unwanted visitors, whether wolves or barbarians. Even if you don't have enough land to plant a hedge of bramble to keep out deer and trespassers, you can still use the protective element of blackberry in warding rituals. Add some blackberry leaves to an infusion and use the infusion to mark your space. Paint or stencil an arch of blackberry above your door, as a warning to all that no one will take what's yours without a price. Or, more mundanely, wear some stout gloves and make a fence of blackberry canes, to keep the deer from eating your vegetables.
Blackberries are associated with the fey folk because the bushes are nearly impenetrable. What strange creatures might dwell within those arching canes? What fey call that bracken home? For those who seek to placate the Goodly Folk, blackberries are a perfect offering. They are free, in the sense that they grow on public lands and empty lots; yet they are not free, for the bush will demand a blood sacrifice in the form of numerous small cuts and scratches. You will be marked as one who had the courage to face the bramble, for the juice stains red like blood and doesn't wash off easily.
Blackberries are also associated with greed and prosperity -- greed because they snatch at the clothes of passers-by, and prosperity because the crop of fruit weighs heavily, hanging just out of reach. You can use all parts of the plant in your magickal spells for gathering prosperity; a tisane of leaves for your potions, a framework of canes for your poppets, flowers and fruit for offerings. Think of the plant's fertile tendencies -- the way it grows by leaps and bounds, filling empty fields and alleys with heaps of luscious new growth. Ask the plant to help your money grow as the green leaves grow -- steadily, and in spite of hardships.
Blackberries are one of my favorite fruits. The white-petal blossoms (blackberries are members of the rose family) seem so delicate. Their clusters of fruit, varying from pale green through pink and violet and deepest black, not only look good, but they attract plenty of birds, which I enjoy watching. I love to see the bees buzzing around the blossoms in the spring, and I like how each perfect green leaf unfolds along an arching vine.
Despite what the rumors say, blackberry bushes can teach us to guard against greed. When you're wiping salve on your cuts and scratches, remember that nothing comes without sacrifice. When you're trying to reach the highest berries without success, remember that the birds need to eat too. Share the berries with your friends, once you've picked enough to save, and if you've got any left over, freeze or can them. Lammas, after all, is the time for harvest, a first reminder that dark times are just ahead; and a wise witch knows that fortune favors the prepared. Midsummer has passed, but dark days have not yet overcome the earth. It's a time for joyous celebration, and for me, it's a time for sharing the bounty the earth provides.
I know a parking lot near a grassy field, where a huge wall of blackberry bushes grows. I've gathered my cups and baskets, bought more freezer bags, and found a dozen jars for canning (though I'm afraid I'll eat too many berries to fill them). Maybe my friends will come with me, and let their own hands become red with scratches and juice. Maybe I'll go on my own. I'm picturing the sweet, sycamore-like smell of the wet leaves, the crunch of rich loam from fallen detritus underneath, and the sticky perfume of overripe or crushed fruit. I'll fill my baskets first, and then I'll fill the plastic soda cups. I never mind the cuts. Nature exacts her price and I pay it willingly.
When I get home, I'll dry the leaves for infusions, and save some canes for crafts and spell work. I'll wash the berries, freeze some, and make the others into pies, cobblers or my favorite, blackberry crepes. I'm already imagining the sweet baking smell in my kitchen, and how much fun it will be to give slices of warm pie to my friends and family.
Blackberries can be symbols of greed, remorse and envy, or they can be symbols of protection, prosperity and healing. Magick, like life, becomes what you make of it. For this Lammas, I won't worry about the places I can't go or the things I can't afford. Other people can spend a month on the shore or three weeks up in the mountains. I'll harvest what nature chooses to give and make a feast.
Copyright © 2006 by the article's author