#nettle loves fungi

[nettleandthorne]

i saw a list today of UK fungi in need of protection and some of the names are so beautifully whimsical and strange. the pretender. sweet greyling. violet crowncup. earth-tongue. medusa brittlestem. beautiful bonnet. willow gloves. rosy woodwax. i'm in love with all of them. i'm stealing them for writing inspiration.

[cromulentbookreview]

Fun with Fungi!

Huh, what's this? *cleans away dust* oh, yeah, this blog is still a thing. I probably should've written more reviews, but...

I mean, I could come up with an excuse, but I'm too lazy. Just as I am too lazy to continually update this book review blog that nobody reads. I mean, I just wrote a review *consults calendar* uh. In 2022. Dang, I have been lazy. Oh well.

I'm like a rug on valium, I'm talking lazy.

And by that, I mean: let's have a dual review of the Sworn Soldier series: What Moves the Dead and its sequel, What Feasts at Night by T. Kingfisher!

Those covers, man. They're awesome, but at the same time: poor bun bun. Poor horsie.

So technically, what I'm doing here is not one but two reviews. So I'm actually being really, really productive right now and not lazy in the slightest.

This is a legitimately true story, I swear. Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away...by which I mean, four or five years back or so, I'd never heard of T. Kingfisher / Ursula Vernon in my life until I got into a fight with her on Twitter* on whether or not the fruit of the hazel tree should be referred to as Filberts or Hazelnuts.

For the record, I am firmly team hazelnut. I mean, they're nuts from a hazel tree. Hazel+nuts = hazelnuts. Who in their right mind wants to eat something called a filbert? But, terminology varies as T. Kingfisher is firmly on team filbert. My parents also call them filberts on occasion which is weird to me as we live in an area lousy with hazelnut farms.

Mmmm, Hazelnuts...

Anyway! I had no idea who this person was but I got into a tongue-in-cheek gif fight on Twitter with them regarding hazelnut v. filbert. Feeling bad that I got into a fight with a random person online on their hazel tree fruit name preferences, I went to their profile, saw they were an author, looked up their books and bought the two books of the Clocktaur Wars series. I tore through them, and continued on, reading all of the World of the White Rat series (I just saw that we're getting a new one in January and I might have let out a bit of a fangirl screech), and the absolutely delightful A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking and Minor Mage. So far, every single one of T. Kingfisher's books that I've read has been awesome. Nettle & Bone? Amazing. Thornhedge? I'm a very slow reader, but I devoured it in an afternoon.

T. Kingfisher writes amazing fantasy novels and I absolutely love them. She also writes horror. Which is where I hit a brick wall because I'm a baby who doesn't handle horror well. I don't like horror movies. I don't often read horror books. Because the world is scary enough without ghosts and poltergeists and demons and jump scares. Also I watched The Ring when I was 12 and it scared the shit out of me. Anyway! Oddly enough, I've always found myself drawn to horror-type stories. I mean, horror fits so well in fantasy and sci-fi (looking at you, Doctor Who episodes that gave me nightmares). As an adult, I've found myself more and more willing to dip my toe into horror fiction. Season 1 of The Terror, one of my favorite-ever TV series is considered horror (maybe because it's not jump-scare scary, it's existentially scary. Also it's set in the past. Also it's got dudes-on-boats, my favorite genre). Part of me really, really likes horror stories set in the past - no horror like 18th/19th/Early 20th century horror, amirite?

Right?

Well, whatever, I just like horror to be ye olde timey horror, OK? Like Crimson Peak, The Witch, The Death of Jane Lawrence, Mexican Gothic, The Woman in Black, The Hacienda, Vampires of El Norte, The Hunger ... spooky-scary Gothic-y-Romantic-y-type stories that have a historical element to them. Those are awesome. I'm slowly - very slowly! - getting myself to read more contemporary horror stories. I understand that The Twisted Ones and A House With Good Bones are really, really good, but....what can I say, I'm a wuss. And contemporary stories aren't really my jam. I read to get away from the contemporary world, damn it!

(Me, too scared to read contemporary horror but not too scared to listen to 900,000 true crime podcasts).

Right, where were we?

Oh, yeah. The review(s). I'm starting to understand why no one ever read this blog and why I let myself be lazy.

-

In What Moves The Dead we meet Alex Easton, a Gallacian ex-soldier on their way to visit their old friends, the Ushers, at their delipidated estate in the rural countryside of Ruravia. Alex had word that Madeline Usher was dying, and they wanted to be there for Madeline and her brother, Roderick. Roderick had been a fellow soldier with Alex back in the day and -

Wait a minute, Roderick and Madeline Usher? Delipidated mansion? Unspecified 19th century middle of nowhere...

Yep, this story is, indeed, a retelling of Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher, and it does a much better job than certain series you might find on Netflix.

Moving on:

Alex, Roderick and Madeline were childhood friends, and Roderick and Alex even fought together back in the day. Alex is a "sworn soldier" - something unique to their home country of Gallacia, a small, backwater country located somewhere between Bulgaria, Hungaria and that other -Garia, a vaguely Central/Eastern European nation with a language somehow structurally worse than Finnish, Hungarian and Icelandic combined. The Gallacian language has seven sets of pronouns: there's one set used only when referring to God, a set used to refer to children before puberty, one set specifically for inanimate objects...and, as the Gallacians are a fierce warrior people (though they're not exactly great at it), there's a special pronoun set just for soldiers.

So, in Gallacia, anyone, regardless of gender, can waltz up to the nearest military recruitment post, declare themselves a soldier, and be given a sword and a new set of pronouns within the hour. Hence the term "sworn soldier."

Anyway!

Prior to arriving at the House of Usher, Alex encounters an Englishwoman, Miss Eugenia Potter, a mycologist studying the local mushrooms, and there are some gnarly-looking (and smelling!) mushrooms. In fact, the whole landscape around Usher House seems...off. Everything seems dead or dying. Random hares will stand up and just stare right at you.

And not in a cute way, either.

As if the landscape weren't bad enough, once Alex gets to the Usher House, Roderick himself barely resembles the soldier Alex once knew. His skin has gone bone-white and he's as thin as a skeleton. He seems terrified by something but can't quite articulate what. Madeline is still alive, but in bad shape. Not even Roderick's friend Denton, an American doctor, can say what is wrong with her and Roderick (Catalepsy? Anemia? Hysteria? Roomis Igloomis? Who knows?). Denton and Alex immediately figure it's something to do with their environment - the house is both rotting and falling apart around them - but Roderick insists that Madeline can't leave, and if she can't leave, he won't leave.

Determined to find out what's happening to their friends, Alex resolves to stay. But things in the House of Usher are starting to get weird. For one thing, Madeline sleepwalks far more than a dying woman should, speaking in a strange, child-like voice, there's a lake outside that seems to pulse and shine with odd lights, there's a legion of undead hares wandering around and, seriously, what is up with those mushrooms??? With the help of Denton, Miss Potter, and their trusty batman, Angus, Alex must figure out what the hell is going on with the House of Usher...before whatever it is starts to spread.

What Moves The Dead is short and sweet and the perfect book to read when it's cold and dreary outside - and definitely not one you want to read before eating a giant bowl of mushroom risotto. If you're looking for a fantastic, spooky-type read that reads like if Edgar Allan Poe and The Last of Us joined forces with an army of undead bunnies.

But!

Luckily for all of us, Alex Easton's adventures don't stop with the events at the House of Usher.

It's late in the autumn and poor Alex would much rather be in Paris. Unfortunately, Angus has successfully guilt-tripped them into a trip to Alex's family's old hunting lodge back in the Old Country, aka Gallacia. Nothing like good old Gallacia in the winter where everything is damp, cold, cold, and, you guessed it! Damp.

But the redoubtable British mycologist Miss Eugenia Potter wishes to study some Gallacian mushrooms, and Angus, who is absolutely sweet on her, pretty much voluntold Alex to come along to act as Miss Potter's translator and use their hunting lodge as a home base.

So instead of a beautiful late Autumn/Winter in Paris, Alex is stuck back home.

*Sigh* looks nice, doesn't it?

As much as Alex sulks at the thought of spending several weeks back home, it's not like they're going to say no to Angus and Miss Potter. Not after everything they went through with the Usher House *shudder*.

Unfortunately, when Angus and Alex arrive at the lodge to help get it ready for Miss Potter's arrival, the caretaker, Codrin, is nowhere to be found. A quick trip to the nearby village reveals that Codrin has been dead for the past two months. But the locals are being very cagey about what killed him - Codrin's daughter is very insistent that it was just a lung infection, nothing else, no further questions, goodbye.

Finding a replacement for Codrin proves difficult, as it seems none of the villagers want to go near the lodge because there's a rumor that Codrin wasn't killed by inflammation of the lungs, but by a creature called a Moroi - a woman who sits on your chest and quite literally steals your breath. And the rumor is, a Moroi has taken up residence at the Hunting Lodge.

Yikes.

After some effort, Alex manages to hire a new housekeeper: the ill-tempered Widow Botezatu, who brings her grandson Bors along with her. The Widow immediately hates Alex, thinking them a wastrel, but Bors is nice enough. Miss Potter arrives, complete with terrible Gallacian phrasebook, but it soon becomes clear things aren't quite right at the Lodge. Alex begins to experience strange dreams - dreams in which a woman is kneeling on their chest because, yep, the Moroi is very real, and it can get to you in your dreams, just like Groundskeeper Willie in Treehouse of Horror VI.

Which is to say like Freddie Kruger, but still.

When it becomes clear that the Moroi is after the residents of the lodge, it's up to Alex, Angus and Miss Potter to figure out how to defeat a creature that can infiltrate your dreams.

What Feasts at Night is just as creepy, eerie and atmospheric as What Moves the Dead - there is plenty of non-fungal body horror and, mercifully, no zombie bun buns. Kingfisher is fantastic at capturing the terror of having your ability to breathe taken from you, and of the dread of having to fight something you can't grasp while awake. How she manages to pack so much into two short novels, I have no idea.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone in the mood for some short, sweet spooky horror.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone who gets easily queasy, someone in the middle of eating a nice mushroom risotto, someone who really, really, really loves bunnies being alive and living their best lives, anyone who might wake up in the middle of the night with their cat on their chest staring directly into their eyes...

RELEASE DATE FOR WHAT FEASTS AT NIGHT: February 13, 2024

RATING FOR BOTH: 5/5

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR SWORN SOLDIER BOOKS: Chigori

*

[girlfromthecrypt]

Find The Word Tag!

Another tag game I very gladly participated in! This was super fun, even though I had to kinda pull a cop out on the last word. They weren't easy to find! Anyhow, thank you @mthollowell-writes for tagging me, I really appreciate it. Here goes.

My words: Music, Steam, Rain, Ponder, Wish

The ponder-one is sorta spicy so be warned lol. I'm drawing from both my novel WIPs, Fucked Up Fairytale and Sootfingers.

Music (snippet from Sootfingers): There was quite a crowd present that evening, and Sootfingers had to squeeze past several people conversing in their own small groups until he finally plopped down on an empty bar stool right by the counter. For a couple minutes, he stayed still in his seat, listening to the music and chatter around him, trying to acclimate to the bustle.

Steam (from Fucked Up Fairytale): Following my brother around the house, I found that our aunt had spread a blanket on the grass for us to sit on, three plates and cups sitting around a steaming pot in the middle. She motioned for us to join her, already having begun to tuck into her portion of meat and veggies. She seemed to be in a good mood, her mild frustration with us from before having let up. Her smile was as bright as the midday sun, and she asked Caleb about school as we ate.

Rain (Fucked Up Fairytale): Nature had reclaimed the structure, plants sprouting from every crack and cranny. Stinging nettles and dandelions lined the ruin’s perimeter and fungi grew in its shady corners, moistened by recent rainfall. Where there was meant to be a gate, a gaping maw stared back at us, and the third wall had been reduced to a single row of bricks lying lonely on the ground.

Ponder (Fucked Up Fairytale): And then a tiny ray of light stole its way into the chaos of racing thoughts. The white-haired man appeared before my inner eye. It’s likely not the norm to fantasize about someone you’ve only met once, but seeing as I had already cast out prior feelings of shame, I set them aside once more. 

“You can watch me sleep. I might ask you inside, though. And then what will you do?”

Permitting myself to ponder this question, I closed my eyes again. This time, I remained asleep.

Wish (from Sootfingers): "I want results, you know? Not some wishy-washy feel good crap. I don't want someone holding my hands and telling me "she still loves you", I don't want some kind of empathic impression; I want to hear a fucking voice, or see a face, I want something I can actually believe in without doing mental gymnastics."

It was only when those words had already left her lips that she realized how much fury she'd let escape her.

And that's it from me! I guess I can make up words for ppl now.

Your words: Creaking, Strength, Dread, Harbor, Lips

Please, everyone who feels compelled to participate, go right ahead. I am literally so uncertain when it comes to interacting with the community lol but Imma tag @rehnwriter @keysandopenmind @a-crows-corner @fayeiswriting @written-in-mold hope that's okay, no pressure

[identityarchitect]

Do you mind sharing about Starfallverse? Your OCs are very interesting! I love it whenever you tag a post with one of those guys.

ABSOLUTELY I LOVE TALKING ABOUT THEM

(edit 27/04/2023 this & the post linked here are WAY outdated u can find a more accurate post here)

here is a post where i talked about them at great length but there are some additions to be made! under the cut bcs. long

mages are now called warlocks! and there exist things called Nature Spirits. they're basically like. hm. the culmination of a particular area of land with plants + animals in it. they're almost like representatives, although that isn't quite right. nature spirits are very powerful and their magic is a different thing from most magic so they're unaffected by the starfall. mostly wizards interact with nature spirits.

nature spirits don't have names, and are instead named based on the area they formed from. they also have informal nicknames. they have a human form, and an animal form. there is always something distinctly wrong about them, when they're in animal form.

sometimes it's obvious. a duck with cat's eyes. a deer that grins with a mouth full of human teeth as you raise your hunting rifle; it doesn't turn tail and run, it doesn't make a sound, it just grins at you knowingly. a rabbit with two sets of ears. a fox covered in fungi and mushrooms, rolling itself in beds of spores.

sometimes it's more subtle. you stare and stare and stare and your mind is dead set on the idea that that is not a stoat, whatever it is it cannot have ever been a stoat, parading about the thought of one, like the fleeting memory of a dying man's first hunting trip. it simply stares back at you, unafraid. why would it be? it's not the prey here.

some nature spirits are:

kif

-

The man sighs, a staticky otherworldly quality to it. You stare up at him as he pinches his nose bridge. His appearance was sudden, and you'd fallen. Interestingly, his hair is split down the middle, one side a light blonde and the other a deep black, like the night.

"Offering?" he says. You shake your head, mutely. The wisdom is always to never speak a word to nature spirits. They'll twist it around, rile you up, use your intelligence against you.

He sighs again, shakes his head. The moon earrings make a light, jingling sound as they move through the air, akin to bells.

"Okay, fine. Whatever. Just - just go. I'll let you go this time, just don't kill anything. Leave everything as you find it."

And then he's gone, and a raven left in his place. It stares at you for a few moments, and then flies off. You get out as quick as you can, but mainly out of gratitude rather than fear.

-

he's very cool! one of my favourites. very homoerotic with The Wizard Graceira, and has known Graceira (as in, the entire wizarding Name and not the current Graceira) for a long time.

rabbit ma'am

-

She observes you like a hawk, ears straight up. It's unnerving, and you don't move. She looks.. curious, in a distinctly cruel way. A cat catching sight of a vole.

"Hello." she says. Her voice is soft, like those leaves covered in fuzz, or like caterpillars. There's also something distinctly wrong with it, like nettle stings, but.. different.

You reach into your pouch of coins, carefully, not taking your eyes off of her. Feels like she's waiting for an opportunity to pounce. You hold out eight silvers to her, and she examines them.

"Mm, I see," she trills, "Then you'll be on your merry way."

And then she's gone, along with those silvers you offered.

You travel through the night to get out of these woods. It feels like she's following you, waiting for you to slip up.

-

she's very dangerous, and sharp. her animal form is a rabbit with two sets of ears.

wound guy

i don't actually know much about him! his neck is cut open and it'll never heal. his animal form is like a mix between an axis deer and a chinese water deer, bigger than a normal deer and with moss all over his back. he's weird, but i like him

also, there are now two groups; The Congregation of Colleges, a collection of warlock colleges and general schooling organisations. they have a high monopoly on what sort of magic is taught to warlocks. the congregation is headed by an individual known only as The Delegate, who i currently know very little about, but i know they have ulterior motives.

then there's The Lunar Council, headed by The Grandmaster Of The Stars. the current Grandmaster is a wizard named lusara. she is.. very out of her depth, and constantly tired.

thats pretty much it :]

[weywardwisdom]

I am under the Seven stars. I am under the sky-boat afloat in the Milky Way. I am under the glowing hearth-fires of elders. I am under shining pebbles in the stream of time and timelessness. I am under the great snake who can poison or heal. I am under the sun making love with the day. I am under the moon’s life-giving womb.

I am moss-covered calcrete and sandy river silts. I am lichen, algae, fungi, puffball. I am mole-cricket, inch ant, worm-lizard, stumpy lizard, skink. I am coiled brown snake and tiger snake. I am maniacal cackle frog and common froglet. I am echidna. I am wallaby.

I am drooping sheoak, small sheoak, sticky hop-bush, and southern cypress pine. I am paperbark, bottlebrush, mallee gum, red gum and melaleuca. I am dryland teatree, white flowering teatree and spiny hakea. I am fig, almond, apple, lemon, lemon myrtle, pomegranate and plum. I am golden wattle, coastal wattle , small coastal dune wattle and northern wattle.

I am piyentak, nganangi, manguni, manthari, thalgi, kunduwi, yalkari, and bilbili.

I am flax-lily, pigface, stinging nettle, muntries, thistle, sweet apple-berry, weaving rushes and knobby club-rush.

I am ruby saltbush, climbing saltbush, coast bitter-bush, small-leaf bluebush, coast daisy bush and twiggy dais-bush. I am sticky New Holland daisy, yellow daisy and yellow star. I am boobialla, bower spinach, correa, climbing lignum, and rhagodia. I am Austral storksbill and Austral trefoil. I am wallaby grass, spear grass, veldt grass and buffalo grass.

I am oxalis, ox tongue, pigs ears and pussy ears. I am easter lily, and Xmas box. I am sea lavender, english lavender and french lavender. I am freesia, nerine, nasturtium, pelargonium, geranium, tree aeonium and sedum. I am highland rose, pink rose and rosemary. I am jonquil, jade plant and spider plant. I am amaranth and plantain. I am cemetery iris, medic, marsh-mallow and red hot poker aloe. I am cactus.

I am thorn-bill, stubble quail, silver eye and magpie. I am fairy wren, willy wagtail and grey fantail. I am mudlark, brown songlark, singing honey-eater and New Holland honey eater. I am feral pigeon, crested pigeon and bronzewing. I am wattle bird and blackbird. I am noisy miner and peaceful dove. I am black shouldered kite and brown falcon. I am marsh harrier and barn owl. I am welcome swallow, sparrow and crow.

I am tarantula spider and orb spider. I am red-back spider and black spider. I am slater and beetle. I am midge and mosquito. I am march fly, house fly and blow fly. I am butterfly and moth. I am blue striped bee, and honey bee.

I am living beings, standing since the beginning of time. I am invasive species that bylaws tell me to kill. I am repair species from the Ngarrindjeri nursery. I am species spread by seed. I am a politics of pollen.

I am a guest of the cycle of life, death and rebirth, living on Ngarrindjeri lands. I am bound to return under the earth.

[dansnaturepictures]

23rd December 2023: A morning walk at Lakeside and bits at home

Pictures taken in this set: 1. The camellia bush with the suggestion of a bud in some beautiful winter sunlight in the garden before setting off for my first of two walks today. 2. One of two gorgeous Goldcrests which I got unbelievable views of at Lakeside, it was awesome to be fixated on watching these dainty richly coloured gems flitting around trees with the other one I saw appearing to feed on lichen, I enjoyed lichen a lot today as I have appreciated in recent days a lot with the ever less leaves on the trees making it more noticeable. 3, 4, 7 and 8. Views on the great time I spent at Lakeside for a couple of hours. 5. A stunning Green Woodpecker which I enjoyed epic views of, a charismatic bird that I loved seeing and hearing today as it weaved through the awe-inspiring branches of a tall tree and picked at grass. 6. A nice bit of bramble. 9. An enchanting female Goosander which I got some top views of again, another highlight today. 10. Feral Pigeons enjoying a tender moment near beach lake.

It was great today to spend longer at Lakeside than my walks in working days and delve deeper into the site, slowing down the pace and taking in my surroundings extensively at certain points. This led to a unique and cracking list of bird species encountered; also of note were my first Bullfinches here for a long time in the eastern meadows, Pied Wagtail and Kestrel seen flying over well, immersive and brilliant views of Redwing and Blackbird again and possibly Fieldfare, cracking views of Great Spotted Woodpecker not far from the Green in a great double with two of my favourite birds and fine views of Herring Gull flying over. Blue and Great Tit enjoyed again, House Sparrow, Robin seen singing atop of vegetation, Goldfinch, Chaffinch, Magpies, Tufted Duck, Great Crested Grebe, Coot, Moorhen and hearing the tuneful call of the Song Thrush one of my favourites were other standouts. I got charming views of Grey Squirrels running around trees. It was a great plant walk too with daisies, in flower gorse, a trio of periwinkle, scabious and ragwort in a planter the periwinkle early quite a spring plant and the scabious hanging on from the summer I think, cleavers, hazel catkins, ivy, holly, hawthorn and firethorn berries, rose hips and pretty teasel, fleabane and hogweed seed heads, old man's beard and nettle leaves standout species. I enjoyed seeing a few varied bits of fungi on braches too. Firethorn, rose hips and a great show of colourful Goldfinches with loads of them feeding on the balcony alongside Starling the Goldfinches enjoyed on the tree opposite too were other at home highlights today. I enjoyed seeing dandelion and daisy on the green out the front too they seem strongly in flower as the year approaches its end.

[endcant]

hal got an ad for a shitty plant ID app that IN THE AD says you should kill virginia creeper and keep european nettle because virginia creeper is a "weed" and european nettle is an "herb" and its like HELLO for the love of all life on this fucking planet . virginia creeper is native to the region theyre advertising this to (in the case of me and hal and others in north america at least) and european nettle is invasive. for fucking fuck's sake

anyway if you want a good plant animal AND fungi identification app, inaturalist has an AI that makes pretty good suggestions and also a massive and eager community of obsessive naturalists who will tell you if the AI got it wrong, like, within a few days. so please just get inaturalist

[madmushlove]

Phlebia incarnata

I’d walked up a meandering trail that took me gradually higher and higher, until I was on one of the narrow ridges that divide hemlock ravines in a reservation about half an hour’s drive from my home in Cleveland.

That’s when it started raining.

  It was a far enough walk back that I decided there wasn’t any point leaving.  I was already wet!

So I stayed in the woods and continued looking for interesting fungi.

Lucky for me, I found one of my favorites. Phlebia incarnata.

I was so enamored by them on multiple logs that I didn’t notice the stinging nettle until my arm grazed it.

Ouch!

I always find this gorgeous coral pink mushroom growing along Stereum ostrea, another mushroom that blurs the line between crust fungi and polypore.  Someone told me once that P. incarnata parasitizes S. ostrea, but I haven’t found much research on their relationship. 

Phlebia incarnata (I’m not aware of any common name) is a vibrant coral pink with a wrinkly, wormy fertile surface underneath.

It’s soft, rubbery, and looks a bit like silly putty from a distance.

It’s fertile surface seems to want to be porous, crustose, and spiny all at once.

I just love the soft coral color on top and the mind boggling structures underneath.

Worth a little rain for sure. 

[toadstoolgardens]

20 Edible and Medicinal Plants & Fungi to Forage in Spring

1. Dandelion: The quintessential spring foraging plant, with edible and medicinal flowers, leaves, and roots. Make dandelion salve from the flowers, pesto or a salad with the leaves, and dandelion root coffee with the roots. 50+ Dandelion Recipes: https://www.growforagecookferment.com/dandelion-recipes/

2. Chickweed: A tasty edible green that dies back once the weather gets too warm, so pick it while you can! It's great in salads or pesto, and medicinally is soothing and cooling to the skin thanks to it's saponins.

3. Miner's Lettuce: A delicious salad green that grows wild in the western United States.

4. Wild Violet: Both flowers and leaves are edible and medicinal! They're often one of the first flowers in spring and make a delicious violet jelly or syrup or can be made into soothing wild violet soap or violet leaf balm. Violet Leaf Balm Recipe: https://thenerdyfarmwife.com/violet-leaf-balm-good-for-eczema-fibrocystic-breasts/

5. Clover: Red clover and white clover blossoms are both sweet and edible. Red clover especially is packed with vitamins and minerals! They both make a delicious tea, white clover iced tea recipe here: https://www.growforagecookferment.com/white-clover-iced-tea/

6. Fiddlehead Ferns: Fiddleheads are just fern leaves before they unravel, available only for a few weeks in spring. Ostrich fern is the most popular and tasty, similar in flavor to asparagus. Some fern varieties are toxic! *Make sure you have a good guidebook and always positively identify before harvesting!

7. Ramps: Also known as wild leeks. They have a strong onion flavor and can be used in place of onions or garlic. It's *important* to remember that ramps are becoming threatened in many areas. Consider your foraging spot and ALWAYS cut ramp leaves, leaving the bulb in the ground to regrow.

8. Cattail Shoots & Pollen: Every part of cattails can be used in some way, but the young spring shoots are the tastiest. They kind of taste like cucumber and can be eaten raw. The yellow pollen that covers the flower spike in spring and summer can be used as a foraged flour substitute.

9. Wild Asparagus: Notoriously difficult to spot, wild asparagus grows in patches throughout the US and Canada and tastes just like regular garden asparagus.

10. Stinging Nettle: *Bring a pair of gloves for harvesting! Don't touch it with bare skin!* Nettle is a superfood, packed with vitamins and minerals. Cooking it gets rid of the sting. Nettles are also medicinal, commonly used for kidney and bladder problems and as a tonic for women's reproductive health. Stinging Nettle-ade Recipe: https://www.growforagecookferment.com/stinging-nettle-ade-recipe/

11. Dead Nettle: Purple dead nettle is the most common variety and is often found in backyards, fields, parks, and gardens. It's delicious in a salad or pesto!

12. Henbit: In the same family as purple dead nettle and very similar looking. This is another yummy green for salads or a wild pesto. Chickens also love henbit, hence the name!

13. Garlic Mustard: Sometimes considered invasive, garlic mustard has a strong garlicky flavor that goes great in soups, salads, stir fries, tacos, and many other dishes. Since it's such a prolific plant you can usually pick lots of it without worry of over-harvesting.

14. Willow: Willow trees are highly medicinal trees and powerful pain relievers. All willows contain salicylic acid, the precursor to aspirin. It's bitter, but chewing some of the inner bark, drying it for a tea, or turning it into a decoction/tincture works well for pain relief and early spring is the best time to harvest.

15. Yarrow: A highly medicinal plant with white flowers and frilly leaves that make it easy to identify. It's bitter, but works in treating fevers and coughs, to help stop bleeding, and heal minor scrapes and bug bites. Yarrow is also great for skincare since it's soothing to the skin.

16. Plantain: Both edible and medicinal, with two main varieties, broadleaf plantain and narrowleaf plantain which are both beneficial. The young leaves can be eaten raw and are very nutritious. Older leaves are good in recipes like soups. Chewing some plantain leaf and putting it on a bug bite, bee sting, or minor wound will help with healing and to stop itching.

17. Cleavers: Many of us know cleavers as a garden weed that sticks to everything, but it's also medicinal! Cleavers are a highly nutritious food and also healthy for the lymphatic system. Blanching will get rid of the sticky hairs, here's some recipe ideas for cleavers: http://www.myhealthyhomemadelife.com/spring-foraging-5-ways-use-cleavers/

18. Morel Mushrooms: Some of the best (and most elusive) mushrooms to forage in spring. Morels should be cooked before eating and can be used like any other mushroom in recipes, they're delicious simply sauteed with a little butter too. *Always use a mushroom guidebook when mushroom hunting and ensure positive identification before consuming!

19. Oyster Mushrooms: Relatively easy to identify since they only grow on trees and stumps, oyster mushrooms are one of the tastiest wild mushrooms around. *Always use a mushroom guidebook when mushroom hunting and ensure positive identification before consuming!

20. King Bolete Mushrooms (Porcini): Considered a delicacy because they're so yummy, king boletes are often found on the forest floor growing under conifer trees. *Always use a mushroom guidebook when mushroom hunting and ensure positive identification before consuming!

Keep Reading: https://www.growforagecookferment.com/what-to-forage-in-spring/

[scarletarosa]

Shub-Niggurath

The outer goddess known as Shub-Niggurath ("The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Dark Young") is one of the two safest outer deities to work with (along with Cthulhu). As stated in the introduction to the outer gods, the outer deities are not evil beings but are usually neutral in morality and typically do not care much for humans. The outer gods were all created within the Void and are larger than all the planets of the Universe combined. They are also immensely powerful and help guide the process of evolution in Creation.  

Appearance: Shub-Niggurath appears as a large goat-humanoid (very similar to Baphomet but without male genitalia), has swirling black tendrils at her sides, countless goat legs, and has the head of a beautiful black goat. Her expression is usually serene and benevolent, which has a fascinating contradiction to the dark tendrils which violently lash around at her sides. She is beautiful in a most incredible and unique way; her form is also so complex that one’s mind can hardly comprehend it. Her appearance can also chaotically change to indescribable forms that may look like a shifting mass with many sharp-toothed mouths, goat legs, and tentacles at the top.

When she arrives, she does a “triple laugh” where she does a sort of giggling laughter which sounds three times. As stated above, her size is larger than the very Universe, but like all other gods, she is able to shrink her form down to the minute size of a human when called upon (though the gods still stand tall and nearly reach ceilings).  

Roles: Shub-Niggurath is primarily a goddess of fertility and the propagation of mutations which benefit life. Regarding the mutations, an example is that she’s known to assist plantlife in adapting to different situations. As such, she is linked to the elements of earth and vegetation. From speaking with her, she has explained that her “thousand young” are mutated trees which have three “legs”, a gaping mouth, and use their branches like tentacles to lash out at people. They are not malevolent, but are angry at humans for what they have done to the Earth. As a fertility goddess, she has been known to have had offspring with many other outer gods

Personal experiences: In personality, she tends to be very caring, nurturing, motherly, and fiercely protective of forests (which she guards over). Shub-Niggurath is also a gentle being and tends to be deeply saddened when humans speak badly about her appearance or see her as evil. She desires those who wish to work with her to be respectful and also appreciate the untamed places in nature; she likes all nature, but prefers the dense wilderness most of all. She also seeks to spread love among all beings and hates prejudice, hypocrites, arsonists of forests, littering, and those who carelessly destroy life. These are the sorts of people who she has no gentleness towards and seeks to eliminate them. 

Shub-Niggurath specializes in helping with things such as fertility issues, self-acceptance, self-healing, and transitioning into different stages of self-identity. As with all forms of spirit work, it is highly unadvisable to commune with spirits if one has psychosis since the experiences can greatly worsen the symptoms. The outer gods can cause this even moreso (whether they try to or not) so please avoid working with them if you have psychosis of any kind.  

Offerings: goat milk, venison, pork with greens (boiled with cabbage, etc), courgettis, beetroot, parsnips, carrots, mandrake, horseradish, spinach, vanilla, olive oil, pine resin, creeping vines, stinging nettles, poison ivy, venus fly traps, fungi, puffball mushrooms, lichens, ivory, charcoal, limestone, copper, serpentine, chrysocolla, burning wood as incense, goat horns, black goat hair, handcrafted totems from twigs, and goat statuettes  

[nettleandthorne]

xylaria hypoxylon; the candlesnuff fungus. one of my favourites simply because of how hauntingly beautiful it is, and the woods behind my parents' house are full of it!

[ashestoashesjc]

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend Take A Hike

Short Story 1/2/3/(4)/5/6/7/8/9/10

Relax. Relax. Inhale, exhale; you know the routine. This isn’t the first time you and Sett have been alone with unsuspecting humans. Just the first time where the goal has been for everyone to leave as alive as when they arrived. Simple.

Jen had texted the directions to The Goovenmeyer Hiking Trail, a public entrance to Goovenmeyer Forest, days before the planned excursion was to take place, and so Ulrick had just as much time with which to let his irrational worries ferment. 

In the logical portion of his elixir and glyph-addled mind, Ulrick knew there was nothing to worry about. That forming normal, healthy friendships was good for Sett. Good for both of them. But a nagging splinter dug at a place he couldn’t reach. 

He tried to disguise his busy hive of thoughts, but Sett, of course, caught on to the minuscule valley made from his dipping eyebrows, the tightness of a face steeped in sullen contemplation.

"You seem stressed,” Sett signed, retrieving a sealed, plastic package from his bomber jacket. “Beef jerky?"

"Where'd you get beef jerky?" asked Ulrick. He took a short pause. "And you don't eat?" 

"Yeah, I know," Sett signed. "It's more for the atmosphere." 

Sett stabbed one of the leathery sticks at his masked mouth, but seeing it fail to improve Ulrick’s mood, returned it to its pouch and put an arm around his shoulder. 

“Really, what’s up?” signed Sett with his available hand. 

“It’s stupid.”

“It never is.” 

Ulrick let out a rolling sigh. He stood from their seat at the bench and paced about the entrance of the hiking trail. “Supermarkets in the dead of night, deserted movie theaters, dates on moonlit rooftops. I did those things to protect us, yes, but it was also because…” He looked to Ulrick. “I like when it’s just the two of us. I’m selfish that way.” 

The mask covered Sett’s face, but Ulrick could imagine the goofy, tilted grin underneath from the light shining in his eyes. It urged half a smile out of him before his paranoia could steal back its throne. 

“That’s changing now, and that’s fine, and I’m happy for you. But a small part of me can’t help but wonder…” 

“Wonder...?” “What would they do if they knew?” 

“Knew what?” came a familiar voice from behind them, where a small parking area accommodated an RV, the boys’ rusted red jalopy, and a newly arrived blue sedan. 

It was Jen, followed closely by a backpack-lugging Diane, looking equally curious. 

"That..." started Ulrick, feeling the vacuum of space closing in around him, sucking the air from his lungs. 

"That we've never been hiking before,” Sett cut in with lightspeed fingerwork. “Didn't want you to look down on us rookies." 

Ulrick could not have managed to look at Sett with more gratitude. "Cat's out of the bag, I guess." 

"Ha! Don't you pink bellies worry about that. Everyone's a first timer once,” chortled Diane. 

“Yeah, except you, Di. You were born an outdoorswoman.” 

Exaggerating a shocked expression, Diane said, “That ain’t true! I was born a Led Zeppelin fan, and everything else has been window dressing.” 

Then Jen snorted, not dissimilarly to the way Diane had when the four had met. Ulrick wondered who’d picked it up from whom. 

“Well!” Jen said, clapping her hands together. “Di might have a compass for a brain, but I have something just as good.” She reached into a pocket of her explorer shorts and brought out a smartphone, plastered in psychedelic peace-symbol stickers. “A compass on my cell phone.”

“And I’ve read about a few sights off the beaten path that we’ve just got to check out,” she said. “Y’know, time permitting.” 

“Oh yeah, wandering blindly into the unfamiliar wilderness. That’s never gotten anyone brutally murdered,” scoffed Ulrick.

Jen suddenly placed her hands on Ulrick’s shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes, her voice silvery and therapeutic. “I see you, I hear you, I feel you,” she said, each emphasized syllable accompanied by a gentle shoulder clap. 

A stammered “Uh…” was the only response Ulrick could muster. 

Turning back to the trail ahead, she began marching. “And we’re off!” 

Irregular stone slabs acted as their guide into the forested incline, but it wasn’t long before they and the beaten path were old acquaintances. Really, it seemed like they’d forgone any path at all, intended or otherwise, as they squeezed past vine-twisted tree trunks, maneuvered around prickly poisonous bushes, crossed rushing, turbulent streams. 

From the clearing at which they found themselves, the whispers of fast moving water could be made out. Jogging up to her position at the head of the group, Sett tapped Diane on the shoulder. “I’ll race you to the next stream,” he signed. Diane agreed with a haughty laugh as the two took off in a sprint. For having only a fraction of the functioning tendons, Sett kept up remarkably well but Diane’s calves were pistons. Jen and Ulrick shared in the rolling of eyes, and after they and Sett had all caught up to the race winner, their spirits were high. On their way over the stream in question, however - wide and deep, nearly a river - Ulrick’s foot missed its landing on the collapsed tree the group had fashioned into a bridge. 

Before he had time to fully assess the situation or Sett’s hand had time to make contact with his, his mouth was flooded with water, and, as the remaining trio stood, frozen in shock, he was shooting rapidly down the violent torrent toward a sound of rushing water so massive, it took not a woodswoman to know what awaited him. 

But it was their woodswoman, Diane, who ripped herself from her jacket, and dove into the frigid gnashing. Her legs beat with a polished verve that contrasted Ulrick’s desperate flails more strongly with every inch of the gap she closed. Then she’d passed him. Her legs kept pumping. 

Only flashes of vision stolen between each blinding crash of the waves revealed to Diane the rock jutting up at her left. She paddled toward it as best she could, knowing she’d made it only when her hand was secured around firm granite. 

She gasped for air, bobbed above and below water level, but managed to swing around with fingers outstretched nearly as far as they would go. 

Wait. Wait. Wait. Now!

She grasped just the slightest bit further, used her legs to propel herself forward. For a microsecond, she was sure she’d waited too long, and then, almost in answer, felt her hand clasp around something bony and warm. “I got you!” she shouted over the scream of the rapids. 

Diane, grip on the mossy boulder growing ever more tentative, soon found a hand around her own wrist as she and Ulrick were dragged, dripping and shivering, onto the gravelly shore. 

The two gave haggard, drained, heaving breaths as Sett ensured they were entirely out of harm’s way, and Jen, sobbing, wrapped her arms around Diane’s neck. 

“This better have been worth it,” Ulrick said when he was dry and warm enough to say anything at all. But when, at the supposed end of their expedition, Jen pulled aside a curtain of vines, what unfolded before them convinced Ulrick it just might have been. 

Ahead, a narrow cavern, lined virtually floor-to-stalactite-riddled-ceiling with glowing, blueish-green mushrooms, tinted each of the four’s awe-stricken faces the very same alien hue. The spotted fungi curved up proudly from their places inset in the stony walls, as if to say, This is our home, and you are right to be astounded. And they were. 

Their jaws were still slack as they made their way out of the small, magical cave, crossed the fallen tree over angry waves, avoided the alluring embrace of stinging nettle. It was by the third time they’d encountered the same twisty, knotted elm, however, that their wonderment had begun to give way to weary impatience. 

"We're not lost. I know exactly where we are," Jen said, yanking free her phone from her pocket. She glanced at the screen for a brief moment and then announced, "We're lost. I have no idea where we are." 

She turned the blank screen to the other three, audibly clicking the 'power' button. "My phone must have died."  

“Don’t fret; there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way,” signed Sett.

“Your optimism is so refreshing!” Jen said with a happy sigh.

A ragged groan escaped Diane. "Why didn't you charge it last night?"

"Why didn't you remind me to charge it? You know I always forget. And you knew we were going on a hike, too. So irresponsible," Jen said, shaking her head. 

"You!" laugh-shouted Diane before she took off to chase a now-squealing Jen through the isolated wooded area in which they found themselves until they’d run out of sight. 

Ulrick rolled his eyes, "God, is that what we look like?" 

Walking over and sitting next to Ulrick on a log, Sett lowered his mask, gnawed a piece of beef jerky, gave a series of loud smacks, and his head a shake. "Gffrrra rmmrrr. <Heck nah. We're way cuter,>" he spat, shooting out dried, fibrous bits. 

Ulrick’s eyes squinted instinctively to avoid the meat spray. I love this man, he thought dreamily.

"Grgrrrgrr. <Wow, this really tastes better raw,>" he grunted, hocking grisly chunks onto the ground. He handed Ulrick the bag of dehydrated cow bits. "Grgrrr rgrrrRRr. <Here. Can't even look at them.>"

"But you know..." said Ulrick, depositing the package into a coat pocket. "Apart from almost going over a waterfall, ending up hopelessly lost, and getting poison ivy in places I’d rather not mention, this honestly hasn't been the worst." 

"GrrrRr? <Great, even?>"

"Let's not get carried away."

Then, a scream. And not of the marital variety. A murder of crows poured out over the treetops. 

Ulrick and Sett looked to each other, and then, at once, took off after the sound. 

What they discovered upon following the shriek was a somewhat cozy recess, marred only by an edge of burnt, toppled trees, the result of a recent firestorm, and by an eight-foot behemoth of teeth and rage that now cornered a comparatively small Diane and Jen, the latter shaking in the protective arms of the former. 

The bear hadn’t noticed their arrival and Sett, without making a sound, used the advantage to pick up a sizeable rock and sneak behind the foam-mouthed beast. He lobbed the stone directly at its head.

“What are you doing!” Ulrick whispered tightly. 

Sett began signing, “While it’s distracted, get them--” but couldn’t complete the thought as a freight train concentrated in the size of a burly paw forced the words from his fingers and sent his body flying like a limp doll into the shattered, splintery remains of ruined trees.

The broken spikes tore through his chest; the bow of a vessel emerging through fog. 

Like a marionette, strings severed, Jen instantly collapsed. 

"Se--!" Ulrick very nearly screamed, before Di's hand clapped over his mouth. 

"Bad time to scream," she whispered, eyes hovering between the bear and Jen’s supine, unconscious form. 

Drool dripped in strings from the bear's growling, vibrating maw as it decided who it would first maul, and Ulrick's eyes zipped erratically from rock to branch for anything to offer aid or solace. But the only thing his eyes fell to were the bits of chewed jerky Sett had earlier discarded. 

By the time the thought had wormed its way into his consciousness, he was already hands-deep in a jacket pocket. When the hand reappeared, it gripped Sett's parcel of 100% American USDA-approved beef jerky. Almost immediately, the bear was rapt.

“Go...” Ulrick said, collecting his indomitable fear and anger into a single swing, “...get it!” 

And then the package was sailing overhead, deeper into the forest, a ton of muscle and fur and claw galumphing off single-mindedly after it.

The moment the bear had trudged out of sight, Ulrick and Diane were on the rush to Sett’s impaled, lifeless body. The jagged, wooden knives protruding through his chest were painted at their ends by a dark liquid that might have been dried blood, but for its smell. 

“I don’t know if we should…” started Diane, but Ulrick was already beneath one of Sett’s arms, knees bent to allow himself leverage and traction. He shoved and heaved and grunted but barely did the large mass of man budge.

Sweat gathered in rivulets at Ulrick’s forehead as his strain and frustration and sorrow mounted. Each push of his feet left a deeper rut in the ground where there’d once been grass.

“Well?” he cried to Diane, still struggling, wet eyes reflecting the falling light. 

Sighing at the futility of it all, she nonetheless took her place under the other of Sett’s armpits. And the two, though it seemed to take a small, tense forever of bone-fatiguing, swear-filled thrusts, hoisted free Sett’s immobile cadaver from the gnarled, blackened teeth of Mother Nature. 

They’d laid him down on the ground, Ulrick himself sprawled out and breathing heavily, not accustomed to the extent of physical exertion, when Diane decided, without Ulrick’s notice, that Sett’s damaged clothes had to be removed, his wounds cleaned and dressed, if he stood any slim chance of recovery. 

Ulrick looked up, but too late, and the expression stapled to Diane’s face as he saw himself through her eyes was one he knew he’d never forget. 

"Look,” Ulrick said, standing but making sure not to venture any closer. “Let's get out of the forest alive and... I'll tell you everything, okay?"

Diane hadn’t peered up at him once since they’d dislodged Sett’s body from the tree, and she didn’t start now. 

"Okay," she said at length.

Polaris guiding her path, alongside the occasional stop to confirm by way of western-pointing spiderwebs her directional accuracy, Diane led the wiped, half-unconscious quartet of hikers back, after an arduous trek through an unkind night, back to their fabled starting point, her carrying Jen bridal-style, Sett slung over her and Ulrick’s shoulders. Woodswoman, indeed. 

"I'd hoped I would come up with a good excuse on the way here, or that we'd just die first, which would have admittedly been easier,” said Ulrick as they approached the entrance, feeling Diane’s eyes wearing down on him. 

"And?” she said. 

"And I didn't come up with a good excuse. There isn't one. You should know the truth. Sett's..."

A grumbling between them alerted them to Sett’s slow reentrance into the world of the conscious, though not of the living. Ulrick clasped Sett's face in his hands, the two falling to their knees. Sett smiled, the black muck smudged about his features like a Rorschach. 

"I missed you, too," Sett signed groggily, bringing tears to the corners of Ulrick's eyes.

"Let's sit him down," Ulrick suggested, wiping water away, a streak of the muck lingering on his cheek.

As they began to lift him away, Sett craned his neck up to Diane and gave a weakly signed, “Thank you.”

On the wooden bench sitting outside the trail’s entry point, Jen and Sett were positioned next to each other, asleep, head resting on head; and farther back, inside the trail itself, where the trees loomed tall and close, where they couldn’t be overheard, stood Ulrick and Diane, the wordlessness tangible. 

Crickets chirped listlessly in the background. Fireflies drew unplanned paths through humid night air. The absence of sound, of chatter, of life, meant to swallow them completely, make the unsaid forever unsayable. 

When Diane, after a silent eternity, uttered, looking at no one, “I know what he is.” 

Nothing moved. 

“I heard about him staying underwater for goddamn near an hour back at the resort. I thought... maybe he's just good at holding his breath." Diane gave a short, mirthless laugh, seemingly at herself. "Then, today."

She paused, and after what felt like a long while, finally said, "That tree should've killed him, and we both know it. And that blood. That…” She stopped.

“Whatever it was, it wasn't blood...”

Pointedly looking to Ulrick, who couldn’t bring himself to look back, she said, “You wondered what would happen if we knew. Well, now I know. I know what he is." 

Ulrick said nothing. There was nothing to say, and his silence was all the confirmation she needed. 

"What I want to know is,” she said, tone betraying no particular emotion, “how you did it."

"What?” Ulrick said, looked up in confusion as if he’d heard the words wrong. “How I..."

"How you brought him back. I want to know how."

"It's... it's an ancient art. You don't just do it. You need years of training."

The response took a second of thought, and then, as if it’d been obvious, Diane said, "Then you do it. Bring someone back for me." 

"That's... not a good idea,” Ulrick said.

She blew air from her nose. "Oh, but bringing Sett back. That was a good idea?"

"That was different,” Ulrick retorted too quickly. 

"How?” She was then looking him gravely in the eyes. “How was it different?"

His gaze darted to the busy forest floor. "It... just was." 

"Huh,” said Diane, a sound and a sentiment. As if the conversation had ended there, she turned and straightened her leather jacket. 

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Sorry I asked. Don't worry about it." At that, Diane began to make her departure toward the entrance and the parking lot, where only the red and blue cars remained. 

"You…” said Ulrick to her back, unable to will himself to move. “You won't tell anyone about us, will you?"

Diane paused, pretended not to hear him and then continued to exit when, just before she left the small copse of trees forever to return to Jen, unawares, dozing peacefully on the bench, to her life, to her own devices, Ulrick called out.

"Wait," he nearly whispered, and Diane stopped in her tracks, not turning around. His fists balled at his side. "Okay... fine. I'll do it."

"I'll resurrect someone for you."

[thebadchoicemachine]

A corruption avatar based on plants rather than bugs.

Weeds and rot and toxins etc. Their blood is poison (maybe black) and their muscles are plant stems/leaves under their skin. Thorny weeds grow in their lungs all the way to their moth, dark and choking and throned and deadly. They smell like pen ink and dried flowers when controlled but when attacking and feral or when cut open it becomes overwhelming metallic and dead and stale.

Mold and fungi and slime and thick black thorny weeds grow where they walk. The nutrients in the ground and air are shriveled. They’ve never been good at gardening. They tried to grow some veggies. They thought it’d be fun to use ingredients they grew themselves. They used to be a chef. They still love to cook. Now, after being corrupted, after making their coworkers sick and rot from the inside out, after coming to appreciate the sludge and thorns in their lungs, after not fighting the sickness anymore.

It must’ve been fun watching them during that first year. They remembered one time they were so panicked they fell to the ground. They could feel the inky sap coursing through their blood, through their lungs and veins. It must’ve been so funny to see them writhe and squirm. Looking back, even it didn’t even hurt that much. They were just so scared.

They had tried get it out. They tried to drain themselves of the poison.  The poison that they now know as their own blood. They probably would’ve died as just another offering if their coworker hadn’t taken them to the hospital. When they woke up something inside them just… stoped. They were sick, no one else would see or could help, they accepted that. By the time they went back to work their acceptance had spread throughout them and gown into a song of gratitude. They wanted to say thank you. They needed to say thank you. So, they made a cake. They had never felt like such a nice person as when their coworkers doubled over, shaking and crying with black sap and red blood dripping from their mouths. They were so happy but they didn’t show it.

Now they smile. Now they laugh. Now they make no attempt to hide the joy they find in poison plants and dead gardens. They care the garden that makes up their body and it cares for them. When they’re cut thick soggy vines that make up their muscles grow back together. When they bleed the blood spoils and blisters and twists anything it lands on. When they feed their god they enjoy it. They plant their weeds around houses that grow from any weedkiller used and drip silvery toxins when cut or if the thorns prick you. They rot the wood frames of homes they visit and wilt even the decorations. Sometimes they’ll cook. (They don’t get a long very well with The Flesh avatars they meet, they always try to take over the cooking process and ignore the artfully cooked weeds and nettles and berries and poisions in favor for a lump of meat. No appreciation at all, just a lump of meat. Ohhh so scarrryyyy.) Sometimes they’ll let survivors watch as they drink arsenic or bleach or whatever straight from the bottle. Sometimes they seek out people who will tear them apart just so they’re forced to watch as their blood drained away to black sap and the thin weeds with long silver thorns grow out of their mouth and stitched them back together.

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 5

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

Chapter 5- Fungi

~~~

Despite the initial tension regarding Jessica Reynolds, things seem to be progressing well with Amelia’s case. Sherlock was able to pull a number of shipping manifests from the assistant’s computer, each bound for the manufacturing factory in Manila.

It was fortunate that it confirmed almost every compound Amelia had noted when she stole the data set, at least in the cancer drugs.

The problem was the secondary product bound into the cancer drugs that caused adverse effects. The details on the manifests were less than helpful…

~~~

“Psilocybe mushroom components,” Amelia read the computer screen out loud for the third time since Sherlock had passed it to her, annoyance in her tone. “That’s it?”

“Magic mushrooms?” John asked, passing her a cup of tea, she immediately set it aside, scrolling through the computer logs further. “Seems straightforward enough.”

“John, there are over 200 different types of Psilocybe spores,” Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “Sherlock, please tell me you have an idea for how we can possibly narrow it down?”

“How many did you use in your research?” The detective asked, reaching for his own tea cup.

“47,” she answered. “Two were almost identical hybrids, so maybe 46.”

“There you go,” he smirked over the rim of his cup. “Narrowed down.”

“You know we’re going to have to get samples, even if we run the equations, some might work but not technically be the component. Not to mention the cancer drugs might be different,” she groaned and set her cup aside, throwing her head back against the sofa.

“Sherlock, it might be time to contact your brother,” John suggested quietly, earning a glare from the brunette.

“You have a brother?” Amelia asked, her head still flung back with her eyes closed. “Please tell me he’s a reputable drug dealer because it’s going to be a pain in the ass getting these things.”

“Even better, he’s a member of her Majesty’s Royal Government,” Sherlock chimed back. Amelia snorted, remaining still.

“He could also order seizures of the shipments,” John reminded the group coolly, sensing the rising tension between the group.

“Unhelpful if we can’t properly determine the malicious components, John,” Sherlock shot back, picking up on Amelia’s frustration. “The idea is that Chemco’s random samples are unable to be traced, and random.”

“Certainly a shipment would contain some variations?” he asked the pair. Amelia threw her arms up hopelessly, and he frowned. “Sherlock, don’t tell me you’re at a loss?”

“Short of breaking into a hospital, stealing their current supply, and testing it against the 46 varieties of mushroom Mia has worked with, this doesn’t lend a more efficient solution,” the detective hummed, drumming his fingers on his chin in thought.

Silence fell over the group, each person thinking through potential solutions.

“Monty!” Amelia shot up, nearly startling John into dropping his tea.

“What on earth-?” The doctor grumbled while Amelia fished out her phone.

“Ruthie’s brother in law, Monty, he’s an, er, herbal enthusiast,” she explained, tapping into her phone. “I bought a few illicit plants from him when I first moved over. He’s basically got everything you could think of. If not, he’ll know someone who does.”

“Is he in London?”

“Canterbury, lives down the road from Ruthie and her husband,” Amelia got a ping back. “Says we can swing by tomorrow if we’d like. I know offhand, I saw at least a dozen spores in one of his cold storages. I’ll dig up my research list, I can probably narrow down the list from 46 to something more reasonable if I look through what moved to the second stages of trials.”

“And then we go shopping for illicit drugs,” John replied dryly. “And what about the cancer medications?”

Sherlock and Amelia exchanged humored glances. There was certainly something that the doctor was missing.

“What?” John gawked between the pair. “You’re not actually breaking into a hospital, are you?”

“We wouldn’t need much, maybe one or two treatments?” Sherlock asked Amelia, who nodded  after doing a quick calculation in her head.

“The binding components are easy enough to track down over the counter, though we might need a better equipped lab than what you’ve got in the kitchen,” she noted.

“That’s not a problem,” Sherlock waved her off, skimming through the list of components from the shipping logs. “Easy.”

“I don’t like it when you two conspire together. It always leads to some sort of trouble,” John pressed, frown deepening.

“John, you’re a doctor,” Amelia reminded him excitedly. “Prescribe poor Sherlock Holmes a chemotherapy treatment for the tumor in his ego.”

“No, absolutely not,” John stood up. “That violates so many ethical rules- besides, you’re a licensed pharmacist. It’d be easier for you.”

“Not here, not yet. I mean, we can let innocent, immune compromised patients die,” Amelia shrugged, leaning back into the sofa. “What a shame about the little babies with leukemia. All because my wicked mother wanted a second mega yacht.”

“What truly is the core of medical ethics Dr. Watson?” Sherlock inquired, slowly closing his laptop, his gaze boring into his friend. “Is it not to protect life?”

John Watson, caught between an American and a hard place, was less than thrilled when he finally, begrudgingly, scribbled his name on a prescription pad and passed it to Sherlock.

“If my license is revoked-,” he threatened, holding it away from Sherlock briefly.

“Will you kill him?” Amelia asked, grabbing her crimson scarf from the back of the sofa and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Because I’d be very interested in seeing that.”

“Don’t think you get off that easy,” John turned his attention to Amelia while Sherlock scampered to his coat, mocking Amelia over John’s shoulder with a smirk. “You’re equally responsible for anything that goes wrong.”

“That’s not fair, I’m an innocent bystander to your collusion,” she pouted, catching her navy pea coat when John tossed it at her head.

“Careful John,” Sherlock warned, passing the doctor his jacket, shielding his friend from Amelia’s sad eyes. “Keep her pouting like that and she’ll convince you to clean her hair out of the shower drain.”

“Just go,” John shoved the detective through the doorway, not bothering to wait for the grumbling Amelia as she pulled her boots on and stumbled her way out the door behind them.

~~~

“And you’re going to be administering the medications at home?” the chemist studied the prescription order, glancing over the paper to John with a quirked brow.

“That’s right,” he answered with a curt nod, his hands stuffed in his pockets to try and stave off the nervous energy that radiated through his core.

“To a Mr. William Holmes?” the chemist looked to Sherlock next to him. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he pulled out his ID and passed it to the woman, flashing a quick smile.

“Did you guys know that Beyonce is pregnant again?” Amelia held up a tabloid to Sherlock. “Oh wait, never mind. Just a rumor.”

“Who is this?” the chemist paused, looking up at Amelia.

“His fiancé,” she replied, setting the magazine aside and looping an arm through Sherlock’s. “Here for moral support. He’s just starting treatment and is nervous as all get out, isn’t that right, love?” For added effect, she snuggled closer, pressing her cheek against his arm.

“I wouldn’t have made it in one piece without her,” he nodded, giving her cheek a quick peck. “Just an absolute blessing.”

“We’re just so lucky to find Dr. Watson,” Amelia continued with a long sigh. “Not a lot of doctor’s are willing to do home treatments within the NHS, you know. And of course I’m completely out of my element with all of it!”

The chemist chuckled empathetically, asking how the pair met as she typed up the order for the supplies. Sherlock and Amelia shot back and forth, exchanging little tidbits about their “relationship” enough to almost convince John it was real.

“The order will be ready tomorrow morning,” the woman smiled at the trio and reached for Amelia’s hand. “I’ll be praying for you both.”

“You’re an angel,” Amelia replied, giving them a squeeze before ushering the group out of the pharmacy with a final wave at the woman.

Back on the street, Amelia slipped a hand into Sherlock’s pocket, pulling out his wallet.

“I did not know your name was William,” she studied his ID, trying to memorize the details before he snatched it from her. “And you’re only three years older than me? I don’t believe that.”

Sherlock grabbed the wallet and ID out her hands, returning them to his coat pocket with a huff.

“Is there no privacy with you?” he grumbled. “And what’s so surprising about how old I am?”

“I just figured you were older,” she shrugged. “I mean, I’m almost thirty, right? I figured you were like, almost forty or something.”

John sputtered out a laugh.

“That’s spectacular,” he threw an arm around her shoulders. “How old do you think I am?”

“John, in all honesty, I have no idea,” she answered. “Sometimes I’m convinced you’re fifty, other times you have to be my age.”

Sherlock snorted under his breath.

“It’s a fair assessment,” she insisted, frowning apologetically at John. “You get very grumpy in the mornings, and the matching flannel pajamas don’t help very much.”

“They’re warm.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Amelia smiled, patting his arm in a placating tone. “I’m just a terrible judge of age apparently. I should have know how old you actually were with all of the part-time super models you bring by.”

“Mia, you’re digging yourself into a hole you’ll regret for the foreseeable future,” Sherlock warned.

“Shush,” Amelia swatted his arm.

“That reminds me,” John glanced down at his phone. “I have a second date with Ann tonight.”

“Is she the one with the Pomeranian?” Amelia asked hopefully. He shook his head and she sighed. “I liked that one.”

“You liked the dog and I’m very allergic,” John reminded her. “Ann is a barrister.”

“Maybe you should make sacrifices for your relationships, John,” she countered. “Have fun with your boring lawyer date.”

“Ann is the boring one, that’s right,” Sherlock perked up.

“She is not boring,” John insisted, flagging down a taxi.

“We’ll call with an ‘emergency’ in a bit,” Amelia promised earnestly. “Get you out of talks about law and order. Blegh.”

“I’m turning my phone off,” he called, slipping into the backseat of the taxi.

“If it wasn’t so cold, I’d be half tempted to follow them,” Amelia mused, continuing down the street with the detective.

“Don’t, they’re seeing that action movie that just came out,” he sighed dramatically. "Boring."

“Movies never make sense as an early date,” she noted. “You can’t talk. How do you get to know anything about the other person? They could be a serial killer for all you know.”

“Exactly, hardly an intimate setting,” he shook his head in disappointment. Amelia looked at him in surprise, stifling a laugh. “What?”

“It’s hard to picture you trying to take someone on a date,” she confessed lightly.

“You’re one to talk,” he countered quickly. “You never leave the flat.”

“You literally don’t let me?” she replied with another laugh. “And arguably, I’ve gone at least one more date than you in the last month.”

“Jessica Reynolds does not count,” he shot back.

“She has the remnants of my favorite shirt on her bedroom floor,” Amelia shivered at the memory. “She counts. John’s been on half a dozen dates since then, yet I’m fairly certain I heard you making love to your calculator the other night.”

“Why did I allow you to move into my building?” Sherlock kept his focus forward. “And I’d be a wonderful date, assuming I knew who i was meeting and could plan accordingly.”

“You’d stalk your date for ideas,” Amelia bit back a smirk. “It’d almost be endearing if it wasn’t super illegal.”

“I do not have to stalk someone to take them on a decent date,” he insisted. “What about you? What would you do aside from a bar?”

“First of all, I would never take someone to a bar on a first date,” she held a hand up, stopping in front of him. “It’s tacky. Would you want to date someone tacky?”

“Ok, where would you take me?” he offered, folding his arms across his chest. Amelia considered his challenge, pulling out her cell phone and tapping at the screen. Grinning at the device, she looked up at him.

“I get a little leeway because I’m not from here,” she warned, flagging down a passing cab.

“What are you doing?” he watched her chat with the driver, and look up at him expectantly.

“I’m taking you on a date,” she answered. “Get in Mr. Holmes, and prepare to be wooed.”

~~~

The Barbican Conservatory wasn’t very busy at midday in the middle of the week, so they were able to secure entrance and tour around the large space without too much interruption from other guests.

“There are over 1,500 different plants in 23,000 cubic square feet of space,” Amelia tucked her hands behind her back. “And the ponds feature koi and carp from Japan and America respectively.”

“Did you just read the pamphlet?” Sherlock asked, looking over the informational packet. “Because you quoted the first paragraph verbatim.”

“It’s because I’m well versed in what I sought out,” she answered with a grin. “Look, flowers.”

She pulled him toward a large selection of tropical flora, naming the species as they moved through in both their common names and scientific ones.

“This one is particularly rare,” she gestured to a bright red flower, the pamphlet long discarded in her coat pocket. Sherlock listened intently, occasionally chiming in his own facts about the flora that surrounded them. He could tell she was pleasantly surprised at his own knowledge on some of the more obscure plants.

“Waitwaitwait,” Amelia pulled him by the wrist toward a large swath of sunflowers. “They’re taller than you, that’s so cool!”

“Does that make them extra haughty?” he retorted, letting her shove him in front of the flowers. She snapped a picture while he continued to quip, ignoring his comments a moment while she saved it to her phone. “Do not show that to anyone.”

“I would never,” she promised. “It’s a good picture, though.” She held her phone up, and sure enough, she’d captured a flattering angle while he’d been laughing.

“I’m not haughty,” he quickly stated.

“You know that isn’t their only meaning,” she hummed, tucking the phone away. “They also mean strength, happiness, confidence… I think they sum you up perfectly.”

“Happiness?”

“Oh that’s right, you were happy once and it was terrible,” she replied coyly. “How could I have forgotten? Happiness can mean bringing it to others as well, Sherlock.”

She turned to look at some lilacs, absently chatting while he stood frozen in place, the words running on repeat in the front of his mind.

Who did he make happy?

~~~

Amelia had a mouth full of falafel when Sherlock decided on where he was going to take her next.

“Mmwha mwean?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. “Dwon’t swteal mwwy dawte!”

“You did an adequate job,” he answered. “But I still think I’m the superior date planner.”

She swallowed her food, eyeing distrustfully.

“I’m only interested if it’s a very old cemetery,” she replied, stealing one of his chips. “And it better be nighttime and there had better be ghosts.”

“There is no such thing as ghosts,” Sherlock clarified sharply.

“Consider this date over,” she stood up from the public bench they’d settled on. “It’s not me, it’s definitely you.”

“Amelia, come back,” he called, but she continued down the road, night starting to swallow the city. “They’re theoretically impossible.”

~~~

Amelia had to admit (though never out loud), Sherlock Holmes did know a thing or two about impressing a date (despite his disbelief in ghosts).

He purchased her a pink peony, her favorite flower, from a street vendor.

Next, they went to the aquarium, where they wandered away from the main tour and Sherlock gave his own version of the tour, naming the fish and telling her random facts about their origins. Together, they came up with complex names and origin stories for all of the fish.

“The puffer fish is obviously fed up with the whale shark’s nonsense,” Amelia laughed, pointing out the fish blowing up as the white shark passed it in the tank. “He’s probably having an affair with the puffer fish’s wife.”

“I don’t know, the whale shark was eyeing the sea turtle…” Sherlock mused, watching the mesmerizing scene next to her.

Every once in a while, Amelia would steal a look at him. The way the light reflected around them, and how it flickered through his blue eyes- should almost wished she had a paint pallet to try and capture the almost perfect cerulean color.

They left the aquarium chuckling about an octopus that had escaped during a demonstration, night having finally swept over the city.

“Ok,” she relented. “You win this round.”

“I’m not done yet,” he pulled his phone out and glanced up. “We have a final stop.”

“What else could you have planned on such short notice?” she asked, letting him grab her hand and pull her along.

“I told you, I know what I’m doing,” he teased, stopping after a few blocks, looking up at the glowing carriages of the London Eye. “It’s not a cemetery.”

“Might be better,” Amelia admitted.

And it was.

Amelia had never experienced anything so spectacular in her life. The lights over the Thames and the London skyline were unlike anything she’d seen before. The old city had a different energy to it compared to New York, and from the top of the famous Ferris wheel, she could see it all.

“I can’t believe we live in the same city as all of this,” she gestured below them. “It doesn’t seem real.”

“It looks like stars,” he agreed, looking over the edge.

“And the reflection on the river?” Amelia continued to gush in excitement, practically jumping around the edges of the capsule as they moved through the sky.

It was over far too quickly, though Amelia knew they needed to get back. John was probably long home from his date.

“You win,” she sighed. “You definitely win, but only for today.”

“That means there’s a second date?” he smirked, offering her his arm as they walk. She took it, falling in step while they tried to track down a taxi.

Amelia knew he was teasing. It was more of an outing between friends, a means to prove a point with no real intimate feelings involved. A challenge.

She repeated this to herself as she stared at the peony in her hands on the taxi ride home. Or when Sherlock made a quiet quip about extra marital whale shark affairs.

He had to prove his point, and he did. She was sufficiently surprised, and very much felt conflicted about it.

When they returned, Amelia cut into the conversation before John could ask where they’d been. He told her all about his date, and that while Ann was very nice, there probably wasn’t a third date in their future.

“Because she’s boring?” Sherlock joked, pulling out his laptop and checking his email.

“We have different interests,” John clarified sharply. “I think I’m going to take a break from dating for a bit. What about you two? What did you do all day?” His eyes fell on the peony in Amelia’s hand, and she froze, not sure how to respond.

“We went on a date,” Sherlock spoke up confidently from his perch, eyeing John and waiting for a reaction.

“You… on a date?” he looked between the pair. “Both of you? Together?”

Admittedly, it was a bit fun watching their friend process the information. Amelia just braced herself for when Sherlock clarified their challenge with one another.

“Yep,” he answered, popping the “p”. “It was a lovely day, wasn’t it Mia?”

Dazed, Amelia choked out an affirmative, her head still catching up with the fact there hadn’t been any specifications as to the motivation behind everything.

“A long day,” she forced out a yawn. “I’m going to put this in some water and head to bed. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, don’t forget. I have our train tickets already, but one of you needs to get the chemotherapy into the fridge before we go.”

Both men said goodnight and she slipped downstairs to her apartment, sneaking a final glance over her shoulder, in case he was going to add anything else to the date conversation.

“A date?” John waited until Amelia was out of earshot. “You never mentioned being interested like that. In fact, you mocked me.”

“We were merely getting to know one another,” he shrugged. “Initially we were trying to prove a point, but it turned into an enjoyable afternoon. Though, I wouldn’t get too excited about it, John.”

“And why not?” John asked. “She’s been here for two months now, you two get along in your weird, mad scientist way, it could be a good match.”

“I’m far too busy to have time for romantic partners,” Sherlock shot the suggestion down. He stilled, his hands resting on the keys of his laptop. “And she seemed odd just now, didn’t she?”

“No more than usual,” John replied. “Worried she didn’t enjoy herself? You got her a flower, I’m sure she was enthralled.”

“A peony,” Sherlock corrected quietly. “She likes peonies. They’re in the perfume she wears.”

“Maybe she’s just deep in denial, much like yourself, and needed to sleep to get her head straight?” John snorted, standing up from his chair. “Speaking of, don’t stay up too late.”

Sherlock waved him off, staring down at his computer and re-reading the same sentence over and over. He couldn’t focus on any of his cases right now, his head was all over the place.

Grabbing his violin, he plucked away at the strings, trying to find a sound for the chaos in his head.

Meanwhile, laying in bed with her eyes closed, listening to the soft sounds, Amelia decided she had more important things to think about besides date challenges and eccentric roommates.

Things like corrupt CEOs and fungi.

Chapter 6

[smugtownmushrooms]

NEXT WEEK at @singerfarmnaturals I’ll be hosted by @reciprocalroots for a special edition to their weekly Herbal Hour. Herbal Hour will be transformed! This 2.5 hour class is brought to you by Smugtown Mushrooms and Reciprocal Roots! Join Olga and Kristin for an evening of solid mushroom and plant medicine discussions! Bring your friends, a notebook, and all your questions about medicinal mushrooms and herbal medicine. We are pretty delighted to just drink tea with you, so we will be sure to have the nettle in the kettle! Plus some long brewed Chaga tea. Class is sliding scale $15-$30 Lite snacks, tea + information for you to enjoy! Smugtown Mushrooms + Reciprocal Roots will have their homemade goods + medicine available too! Excited to celebrate both the Full Moon and the unveiling of the Equinox together! Definitely excited to step out of the city living and drive along my favorite body of healing water, the so called Great Lake Ontario. Such a lovely drive to the land of @singerfarmnaturals. They are amazing hosts and land stewards. No registration needed, please come as you are and offer what you can the day of. More info on my website ;) #smugtownmushrooms #newyork #niagaracounty #niagara #ontario #greatlakes #herbalmedicine #botany #mycology #mushrooms #mushroommedicine #mycelium #fungi #buffalo #rochesterny #fingerlakes #wny #lockport #fungalpharmacy #716 (at Singer Farm Naturals) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bu6iQ76gNjj/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ek75scyyx4id

[mer-witch]

Symbolism in the Tarot

Sup witches? So I've had this Sacred Circle tarot deck since I was about thirteen and I have always loved the pagan/Celtic symbolism ingrained in each image. I recently discovered the authors website & she had this great list of correspondences used 💜 lovely resource even if you don’t own this deck! A lot of this info is universal although I do recommend checking out the Sacred Circle tarot because it’s beautiful!

* APPLE: Immortality, the Otherworld, the passage of the Sun, fertility, harvest. * ASH TREE: cosmic axis, link to all the realms. * AUTUMN: Maturity, harvest. * BADGER:  Strength, power, tenacity, will, tradition. * BASIL HERB: death and immortality. * BAT: initiation, transformation,  new viewpoint.   * BEE: Great Goddess, regeneration, inspiration, eloquence, divine messenger. * BERRIES: Plenty, sustenance, nourishment, fruition, abundance. * BINDWEED: constriction, dangerous obstinacy. * BIRCH: New beginnings, renewal, growth, purification, fertility, cleansing. * BISTORT: vernal equinox, serpent power * BLACK: Rejection of the ego, possibilities waiting to be realised, anticipation. Contrary aspects: weak life force, illness, vulnerability, poor self-image. * BLACKBERRIES: goddess power, harvest, fruitfulness, fairies * BLACKTHORN: cursing, black magic,  increaser of secrets, strength, protection.

* BLUE: Healing, spiritual development, protection, calm, teaching. Contrary aspects: complacency, spiritual dilettantism. * BLUEBELLS: Gods and spirits of the woodland, fairy magic. * BOAR: winter solstice, courage, fruitfulness, strength.   * BONFIRE: Light, warmth, eternal flame of spirit within, purity, cleansing, sacred centre. * BOOK: Knowledge. * BORAGE: courage, bravery. * BROWN: Earthiness, sexuality, practicality, environmental awareness. Contrary aspects: dullness, greed, selfishness, laziness. * BULL: Power, strength, might, vitality, virility, fertility. * BUTTERFLY: Cycles of life, change, spirit, the soul, renewal, rebirth. * CAULDRON: Transformation, womb of the Goddess, occult knowledge, initiation, renewal, rebirth. * CAVE: Powers of the underworld, womb of the Goddess, place of death and rebirth, mystery. * CENTAURY: healing, altered consciousness. * CHERVIL: healing, initiation, immortality. * CHILDREN: Promise, hope, new beginning. * CINQUEFOIL: magic, altered consciousness. * CIRCLE: Wholeness, completion, eternity, absence of time and space, Deity, everlasting love. Divided circle: the balance and harmony of such divisions uniting. * CLOUDS: Difficulties, worries, clouded judgment. * CLOVER: triple goddesses, the sun wheel * CORN DOLLY: Spirit of the grain, harvest, offering. * CORNFLOWER: gifts of the harvest goddess. * CRANE: Su, writing, knowledge, inspiration, poetry. * CROWN: Power, legitimacy, victory, triumph, honour, glory. * CUP: Nurture, womb of the Goddess, emotions, feelings, love, replenishment, regeneration, inspiration, element of water, spiritual fulfilment, compassion. * CYPRESS: mourning, death, endings, evergreen tree reminder of the incorruptible nature of the spirit. * DAFFODIL: Spring, growth, joy, youth, beauty. * DAISY: Their old name 'bruisewort' indicates their efficiency in treating bruises. For the Celts the daisy was a symbol of light and Belenos, the god of the sun. * DANDELION: Solar energy, strength, life, vitality, cleansing. * DOG: Companion, guardian of thresholds, the hidden self. * DOVE: Hope, purity, peace, aspiration. * DRAGON: earth energy * DRAGONFLIES: luck * EAGLE: authority, royalty, power,   upperworld * EARTH: Material realm, practicality, manifestation. * FERN: threshold,  midsummer, protection * FIELDS: As you sow, so shall you reap. * FIRE: Divine spark, creative and destructive power, energy, transformation, passion, ambition, inspiration, illumination. * FISH: Creativity, fecundity. * FLOWERS: Joy, beauty, blossoming. * FOX: Cunning, knowledge. * FUNGI: Intoxication, inner vision, shamanic travel. * GORSE: Spring, hope, positivity, personal strength, well being. * GRAIN: Nourishment, harvest, plenty, abundance, reward of labour, the power in the earth, the corn god and his mystery of death and rebirth. * GREEN: Fertility, prosperity, growth, creativity, the natural world, regeneration, beauty, harmony. Contrary aspects: envy, dissipation. * GREY: Uniformity, dullness, mourning, sadness, depression. * HARE: Renewal, lust, sexuality, fecundity, reproduction, freedom, energy, creativity. * HARVEST: completion and resolution. * HAWTHORN: Conception, fertility, coming of summer, lust, sexuality, flowering. * HAZEL: wisdom, knowledge, poetry. In ogham the hazel is coll, one of the seven chieftain trees. * HEATHER: Otherworld travel, outward spiral of initiation, midsummer. * HOLED STONES: Goddess womb, healing, fertility * HOLLY: Fire, light, warmth, masculine strength, potency. * HORSE: Fertility, sovereignty, power, swiftness, faithfulness, strength, journeys, travel, partnerships. * IVY: Immortality, death and resurrection, expanding consciousness, Divine intoxication. * JUNIPER: purification, justice and truth. * KINGFISHER: a moment of magic, a brief but significant connection with the Otherworld. * LIGHTNING: Divine intervention, message from a higher power. * LIZARD: light,  wisdom and divination, Otherworld secrets. * MAGPIE: balance, augury, trickster,  superficial glamour, omens and signs.   * MALLOW: love and fertility, death and funerals. * MAYPOLE: Phallus, cosmic axis, fertility, summer, celebration, joy. * MINT: ‘thought’, mental activity.   * MISTLETOE: Immortality, love, peace, healing, fertility. * MONKSHOOD: poison,  the underworld and death,  malevolent magic. * MOON: Cycles, time, psychic power, reflection, femininity, intuition. Waxing Moon – youth, potential, beginnings. Full Moon – motherhood, creativity, nurture, blessing. Waning Moon - winding down, age, death. * MOTH: a symbol of the soul and attraction to the light.   * MOUND: Connection with the ancestors. * MOUNTAINS: Attainment, aspiration, spiritual goals. * MOUSE: travel between the world of men and the underworld along secret paths, soul animals. Mouse shows you the way through the labyrinth and teaches you to access what you need. * NETTLES: (9 of swords) The nettle has a fierce sting, and may not be picked without paying the price of pain. Though it appears antagonistic, once assimilated it is totally beneficial, full of vitamins and minerals.  As such, it teaches the lesson of transmutation.  It is those spiritual and life experiences that are most difficult and testing which are the ones that make you grow most. * NIGHT: Rest, calm, peace, the unconscious mind. * OAK: Cosmic axis, as above so below, royalty, chief gods, druid magic. * ORANGE: Optimism, success, courage, bravery, ambition. Contrary aspects: conceit, self-importance. * OTTER: Lord of deep magic, otter guards many profound magical secrets. Otter catches the Salmon of Wisdom by being fluid and swift, not serious and ponderous. * OWL: Wisdom, sight that pieces the darkness, uncovering hidden secrets. * PIG: Underworld,  winter solstice, death, moon, hag goddess, devourer, initiation trials. * PINE TREE: rebirth, fertility, spring equinox * POPPIES: Fertility, plenty, abundance, sacrifice. * PRIMROSES: Spring Goddess,  poetic inspiration. * PURPLE: Strength, mastery. Contrary aspects: arrogance, domineering, mourning. * RAINBOW: Harmony, hope, happiness, bridge to the Otherworld. * RATTLE: Summoning spirit, awakening, communication. * RAVEN: Death, conflict, oracle, omen, foresight, shamanic vision. * RED: Blood, life, vitality, passion, energy, sex drive, protection from magic, the setting or rising Sun. Contrary aspects: aggression, anger, frustration, warning, danger, murder, cruelty, war, destruction, death. * ROBIN: Bringer of fire, protection, the sacred.   * ROCKS: Difficulties, obstacles. * ROOKS: omen, sacred to  Death Goddesses. * ROSE: Human and Divine love, the feminine, secrecy, healing, rebirth. * ROSEHIP: Fruition, motherhood * ROWAN: witchcraft, protection, divination and the dead. * SALMON: ancient knowledge and wisdom * SHIELD: Defence, protection. * SICKLE: Harvest, death, endings. * SNAKE: Fertility, healing, renewal, wisdom, life, death and rebirth into a new consciousness, fear, temptation, knowledge. * SNOWDROP: Purity, innocence, potential, promise. * SPIRAL: Life path, Sun path, death and rebirth, immortality. * SPRING: New beginning, growth, increase, opportunity, youth. * STAG: Fertility, potency, strength, solar animal, ancient knowledge, earth power, quest, change. * STAR: Illumination, direction, guidance, hope. * STORM: Troubles, emotional turbulence. * STRAWBERRIES: Mother Goddess, Midsummer, fairies. * SUMMER: Ripeness, increase, plenty, opportunity. * SUN: Expansion, growth, energy, creativity, the conscious mind. Rising Sun - new beginnings. Setting Sun – endings, transition. Noon Sun - full power, full expression. * SWALLOW: the transformation of the land  in spring, heralding the coming of the gentle rains which fertilise the earth, protection, joy. * SWAN: prophecy, music and poetry.   * SWORD: The element of air, mental activity, idea, knowledge, intent. * TANSY:  Immortality, spring equinox * TORCH: Enlightenment, hope, illumination. * TOWER: Strong structure, restriction, material possessions, guarding, imprisonment, crystallized thought, closed mind. * VERVAIN: magic, ancestor contact * WAND: The fertilising phallus, element of fire, creativity, life energy, the spirit, will. * WATER: Emotion, subconscious mind. * WATERFALL: Free flowing of emotions. * WEB: The pattern of life, thread of destiny, wyrd. * WELL: Underworld, womb, healing.   * WHEELS: Forward movement, progress. * WHITE: Purity, harmony, spirit, psychic development, the dispelling of negativity, purification, cleansing, tranquillity, protection * WILLOW: Feminine energy, water, emotions, inspiration, poetry, Moon magic, water magic, witchcraft, love, fertility, tears. * WIND: Challenge, change, adaptability, movement, spontaneity * WINTER: Maturity, rest, stillness, old age. * WOLF: Fierceness, nurturing, unconscious mind, dreaming, guide, new knowledge. * WOODPECKER: rebirth,  opener of the ways,   * WREN: Bringer of Divine fire, ancient knowledge, kingship, cleverness, sacredness. * YELLOW: Intellectual development, strength of mind. Contrary aspects: cowardice. * YEW: Death and rebirth.