#straif

Sid telegram stickers

Straif - /St/ or /Sw/ very very little is truly known about the name of this ogam, even the sound value is in question, that being said it is reasonably to assume that the late medieval glossaries definition of "sulfur" is probably linguistically inaccurate (especially since the glossaries assume this definition based on 'red sulfur' in alchemy, also known as the philosopher's stone) . My personal current theory is that the letter name refers to (or perhaps was copied incorrectly at some point from) scaíle - "Illusion, shadow, reflection" How is this a refence to reddening you may wonder, I believe that the kennings are in reference to the story of Finn McCool and the Giant's Causeway.

MM: tressam rúamnai- "strongest reddening"

MO: mórad rún- "increase of secrets"

BlackthornModern Letter: STRuler of the Dark Half of the YearOct 31st to April 30th Straif indicates that the maxim “The best laid plans of mice and men…” is relevant to your situation. Any plans which you have attempted to lay out will be subject to unavoidable change. External forces may tear your plans to their foundations in unexpected and surprising ways. These changes and obstacles are…

As soon as the snow clears I’m planting Blackthorn. Hers were the first twinkling flowers of the hedgerows in the place I was born. When the land slept, cold-locked and water-logged, she snapped her fingers in the twiggy leafless places and made you look, made you see that the sun had broken winter’s back and the buds were coming. I always felt a little sorry for her solitary push into spring, but I understand it better now; she is the vanguard, she leads the way, as a good mother should.

I’ve noticed a lack of Blackthorn amongst my neighbouring hedges. I’ve searched road verges and path edges, I’ve walked farther and farther afield and have only found a handful of squat, flailed hedge plants. How could she not be here? What about the sloes? What about those starving early pollinators?

There was such a lack of sloes last year that the option of growing my own local Blackthorn was unfeasible, so I’ve ordered a bundle of bare-root plants from a local tree nursery that grow from local seed. I’ve used them for years and was pretty devastated to find out they are giving up growing native trees in favour of landscaping favourites - sterile, non-native, non-participatory versions of my beloved trees. People don’t want native trees and shrubs, that’s what they told me. The Mother of the Wood has been sidelined for a slicker, more controllable, less dangerous model.

As a Witch I will not allow this to happen. I will do what all we witches do: I’ll fuck that neat shit up.

I’ve ordered enough Blackthorn to re-ignite my perimeter hedges, and not only will she do her thing amongst all the other old, old trees, but she will, once asked respectfully, keep unwanted spiritual intrusions at bay; If she says you’re not coming through, then you’re not fucking coming through. Once I have sloes then the guerrilla planting will begin, both as seed sown during my walks and as tree seeds germinated in my growing areas. My seed sowing perimeter includes Chester, Buxton, Whitchurch and Alderley Edge: Blackthorn is coming, brace yourself.

The February dark moon is a Blackthorn moon for me. She is all about thresholds and perimeters, protection and delineation; she gives you the space to do the work that needs to be done, the space in-between this world and the otherworld, the quiet dark before the kindled spark. When people or situations or worries are crowding in, when the world is pressing, pressing, the Mother of the Wood opens her arms and gives you a place to gather your resources, to allow your own thorns to form.

 I gather her thorns at this dark moon time, carefully, and with an inevitable drop of blood. The world is such that every one needs a jar of thorns, for herself, for her loved ones. Make sure your cutters are sharp and clean, and your heart open.

I have read various things about the divinatory meanings of Blackthorn and many of them feel quite alien; she’s seen as a tree of oncoming disaster, an ill-wishing, unwanted visitor who’s hanging around for the I-told-you-so finale. This is not how she speaks to me. Blackthorn came to me during a very dark time, yes, it was awful, but she came to me with firm sloe-black eyes and a shoulder turned against the coming storm, her thorns pointing out. She is still with me and I feel immeasurably stronger for her teachings. When bad shit happens, be Blackthorn.

Ceridwen is the goddess that seems most associated with Blackthorn, but she has never called me and I only know her from folklore and books, but I like the fact that she is a goddess of natural justice and Blackthorn feels that way to me, too. There always needs to be a proper exchange of energies, an acknowledgement of everything she has done. She will help you face conflict, to plant your feet and draw the thorny line, but she is not to be summoned for petty vendettas - this is a intuition/supposition, though; I have never personally tried it.

So I will plant Blackthorn, make wishes for sloes and sprinkle her wherever I travel. I even feel, after all this time in her company, enough of a witch to cut a stave and carve her name, to ask her formally to help me cross all these big new thresholds.

A few books on tree magic:

The White Goddess  - Robert Graves.

Tree Wisdom - Jacqueline Memory Paterson.

Trees of the Goddess - Elen Sentier.

Under the Witching Tree - Corinne Boyer.

Plus, many herbals, including  Mrs Grieves’ A Modern Herbal and A Compendium of Herbal Magic by Paul Beyerl.