I love the winter

I love the winter

winter sunset

I love the winter, calm and still,

when the life force withdraws

and sleeps among the roots.

I love the barren, naked trees—

fragile branching silhouettes,

transparent filigree against the sky.

I love the birds

Flocking together,

dancing through the air

seeking shelter in the shrubs.

I love the scarlet rosehips,

A splash of colour in the hedges

when all is grey-on-grey.

Gardening Jobs in December

I love the mud beneath my feet

as it tries to pull off my boots,

and the puddles in the furrows,

mirroring the sky.

I love the remnants of snow,

clinging to the grass,

like crystalline sculptures

of frozen spiderwebs.

I love the winter

I love the leaden clouds

draped across the evening sky

And the glowing winter sun,

 heavenly fire, igniting the horizon.

I love the winter’s timelessness,

frozen in eternity.

But if you listen carefully,

you can hear the murmur of thaw.

Imbolc Awakenings

Imbolc Awakenings

 

Imbolc Reflections: The Return of the Light and the Stirring of Life

Winter is still with us, though it has entered a moody and changeable phase. One day it is frosty, stormy, and inhospitable; a few days later, the sun pops out to tease us with warmth and brightness. And yet, despite winter’s lingering grip, there is one unmistakable sign that something has shifted: the days are noticeably longer now. Light is returning, minute by minute, almost imperceptibly, but with unstoppable determination.

Imbolc marks this subtle turning point of the year. At the beginning of February, it stands midway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, heralding the first stirrings of new life, the breaking of the waters. In nature, the snow and ice begins to thaw.

Traditionally associated with Brighid, the Maiden Goddess of light, fire, poetry, and healing, Imbolc celebrates the increasing warmth of the sun and the promise of renewal and fertility of the Earth. Each passing day brings a few more precious minutes of daylight as the sun climbs higher in the sky.

To be sure, it is still winter. Frost may still coat the ground, and cold winds still remind us that the season has not yet released its hold. But if you look closely, signs of awakening are everywhere. Buds swell on bare branches, full of energy and intent. Beneath the soil, last season’s seeds soak up the  moisture, preparing for germination. The sap begins to gurgle and rise again. The wheel of the seasons is turning, even if the movement is slow and largely unseen.

Some plants announce this change bravely. Snowdrops pierce frozen ground, their white bells nodding gently above leaf litter and snow. Winter aconite flashes sudden gold in dark corners of the garden. Dwarf irises and other early bloomers defy the odds, reminding us that life does not wait for perfect conditions. The life force stirs deep within the Earth, and within ourselves.

Imbolc, Candlemas, and the Theme of Purification

Imbolc is also known as Candlemas in the Christian calendar, a festival of light, cleansing, and spiritual preparation. Traditionally, this was a time of purification — both inward and outward — preparing body and soul for the coming cycle of growth.

In the past, this marked the approach of Lent, a period of fasting and abstinence. Heavy winter foods were gradually reduced, allowing the body to cleanse itself and regain vitality after the long months of cold and scarcity. This rhythm mirrored nature’s own process: a shedding of excess, a clearing of space, a readiness for renewal.

Symbolically, Imbolc invites us to do the same. To let go of what no longer serves us. To simplify, to clear, and to make room — not through force, but through gentle attention and care.

 

Plants of Imbolc: Messengers of the Light

Imbolc is deeply connected with plants that signify resilience, purity, and renewal. These plants can be braided into the season as symbolic and practical points of connection.

Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis)
A classic plant of Imbolc, snowdrops symbolise hope, purity, and determination. Their appearance amidst frost and snow marks the first visible sign that winter’s harsh grip is waning.

Hazel (Corylus avellana)
Associated with wisdom, inspiration, and poetic insight, hazel is sacred to Brighid. Hasel is a transmitter of cosmic energies and symbolizes inner knowing and the spark of creative vision that emerges during this liminal time.

Birch (Betula spp.)
A tree of beginnings and renewal, birch is often one of the first trees to leaf out after winter. It symbolises purification, fresh starts, and the clearing out of the old and unneeded.

Almond (Prunus dulces)
In Mediterranean climates, the Almond tree is an early harbinger of spring. Its pinkish white flowers adorn the still barren landscape, a promise of abundance and fecundity to come.

Rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus)
An evergreen herb traditionally associated with memory, clarity, and protection, rosemary bridges winter and spring. Its resilience reflects the continuity of life even during dormancy.

Imbolc as a Time of Vision and Intention

Imbolc is a threshold — a liminal space between what has been and what is yet to come. At this time, a space opens allowing us to pause and look inward. To reflect honestly on our strengths and weaknesses, our virtues and our shadows. To ask ourselves difficult but necessary questions.

What nourishment does your soul need now?
What intentions are quietly forming within you?
How do you wish to give back to life as the year unfolds?
Are you walking your talk?

Imbolc is a time for purification, vows, affirmations, and quiet commitments rather than grand declarations. Seeds — literal or symbolic — are selected, setting intentions. Tend to your inner flame and protect it from harsh winds and careless neglect.

Growth begins long before it becomes visible. The light is still dim, but it is growing steadily. Tend it gently. Soon the sun will rise higher, its warmth growing stronger with each passing day. And when it does, life — both within and without — will surge to fullness once more.

Winter Solstice Reflections

Winter Solstice Reflections

Winter Solstice Reflections: Honouring the Longest Night and the Return of the Light

Winter Solstice Blessings for the Darkest Time of the Year

The Winter Solstice marks the shortest day and the longest night of the year, a sacred turning point in the seasonal cycle. The trees have shed their leaves, standing stripped and skeletal against the sky. All visible signs of life have retreated below ground, withdrawn into roots, seeds, and buds, slumbering until they are awoken by the growing light. Frozen in time, the land lies barren and still. Barely rising above the horizon, the Sun sends only a few pale, hesitant rays of light — more a promise than a presence. The birds have left on their long journeys to milder climes, their songs replaced by silence. The Earth has entered its deep hibernation, holding its breath.

At the Winter Solstice, the Light is Reborn

This season can feel stark, even unforgiving. The darkness is long, the cold persistent, and the days seem reluctant to begin. And yet, it is precisely at this moment — at the very depth of the dark — that we find cause to rejoice. For deep within the Earth, unseen and protected, a tiny spark of light is born. Fragile as a newborn in its crib, the sun-saviour god returns, not in triumph, but in vulnerability. The light does not blaze; it flickers. It asks for patience, trust, and care.

We stand on the threshold of a new cycle, not yet certain how it will unfold, not yet sure whether this tender beginning will thrive. And yet, where there is life, there is hope. The Winter Solstice reminds us that renewal does not arrive with noise or certainty, but quietly — almost imperceptibly — in the darkest hour.

In the old days, the twelve days of Christmas marked a liminal time: a pause between what has been and what is yet to come. The veil between the worlds was believed to be at its thinnest, and spirits could pass through more easily. The same is true of the days surrounding the Summer Solstice, when light reaches its zenith before beginning its slow decline. These moments are thresholds, times outside ordinary time. Otherworldly beings, ancestral presences, and forgotten memories wander among the living, reminding us that reality is layered, and that we are never as separate as we imagine.

Sacred Plants associated with the Winter Solstice and  Christmas:

Follow the links to the Encyclopaedia entry to learn more:

Frankincense (Boswellia spp.)
Traditionally burned as sacred incense, frankincense is associated with prayer, purification, and the rising of light from darkness. Its resin connects the earthly and the divine, making it a powerful Winter Solstice ally.

Myrrh (Commiphora myrrha)
A plant of grief, healing, and protection, myrrh reminds us that darkness is not absence, but depth. It accompanies rites of mourning, transition, and rebirth.

Fir (Abies spp.)
Evergreen through the darkest months, fir symbolises endurance, continuity, and life that persists beneath the snow.

Mistletoe (Viscum album)
Sacred to the Druids, mistletoe grows between worlds — neither rooted in earth nor fully of the sky — embodying liminality and renewal.

Holly (Ilex aquifolium)
Evergreen and thorny, holly is a guardian of the dark season. Its bright red berries are the original Christmas-tree baubles, glowing bright in the monochrome landscape and offering nourishment to overwintering birds.

Winter Solstice Reflections

The Winter Solstice is, above all, a time of reflection. A time to sit with memory, to honour what has been, and to acknowledge both loss and growth. We are called to turn inward, to listen more deeply, and to take stock of the year that is drawing to a close. Not every year is gentle. Not every journey is easy. There may have been grief, uncertainty, or exhaustion along the way. Yet even in difficult years, there are moments of kindness, connection, and resilience to be grateful for — small lights that sustained us through the pain.

In the quiet space of the Winter Solstice, we reflect on gratitude: on love given and received, on care extended to others and, perhaps, finally to ourselves. We remember the importance of being there for one another — of showing up, even imperfectly, in a world that so often asks too much. We allow ourselves to dream, gently and without pressure, about our hopes for the year ahead. Not grand resolutions, perhaps, but intentions: how to live more truthfully, more compassionately, and more in tune with what truly matters.

Winter Solstice - A Turning Point on the Wheel of Time

The Winter Solstice marks a turning point. Though the cold may deepen and winter still lies ahead, the light has begun its return. Each day from now on carries a little more brightness than the last. The promise of a new dawn is already woven into the dark.

may your light shine bright.

Count your blessings and celebrate hope. The Wheel of Time is turning, as it always does. The light is returning — quietly but surely. Let us cherish and protect this tiny flame of hope, tending it with care. And when its fire grows stronger, life will once more stir, rise, and return to the Earth.

Plant Profile: Poppy (Papaver somniferum)

Poppy Field
Image by NickyPe from Pixabay

The Mysterious History of the Opium Poppy

Opium Poppy Papaver somniferum
Synonyms Opium Poppy, Mawseed, Herb of Joy, Mohn, Klapper-Rosen, Mago, Magesamen, Weismagen, wilder Magen, Magensaph, Rosule

Description:

Opium Poppies are nothing if not showy. Their sturdy stems and large leaves make a stark contrast to their large but oddly flimsy flowers. The delicate petals give the impression of a butterfly that is just about to take off. At the base of the flower sits a prominent, many-rayed stigma surrounded by a mass of stamens. After the flower has been fertilized, the petals drop off, leaving the seed capsule exposed as it swells and ripens like a pregnant belly.

Individual plants grow to between 70 cm, and 130 cm tall. The erect stems and large wavy leaves have a tough, rubbery texture. The leaves are indented and clasp the stem. All green parts of the plant are covered by a greyish-blue waxy substance that is easily rubbed off. Botanists describe this feature as glaucous.

When any green part is cut or wounded, a milky latex oozes out and turns brown as it dries. This substance is known as raw opium.

The seed capsule of Papaver somniferum is almost spherical and has a star-shaped, flattened lid. As it dries, the top shrinks and lifts. Tiny holes are formed underneath the rim, allowing the tiny, white or bluish-black seeds can disperse.

Origin and Distribution

It is difficult to establish with any certainty just where Papaver somniferum originated or who its genetic parents might have been. But, most researchers now agree that the Mediterranean region of Asia Minor is its most likely 'original home'.

From this strategically advantageous position, they spread east into Asia, south into North Africa and north into Central Europe. Today, poppies are even found as far north as Britain. Poppies are popular as ornamentals, and breeders have developed dozens of varieties of different colours and flower arrangements.

The Papaver genus comprises about 100 species that occur throughout the temperate regions of the world. Poppies like to grow in association with corn. In early summer, the related Scarlet Poppy (Papaver rhoeas) can often be seen in cornfields and verges. This species is much smaller, has scarlet-red petals and small, elongated seed capsules. Although the Scarlet Poppy has historically also been used medicinally, its action is much milder than that of Papaver somniferum.

Opium Poppies are not native to the New World. But when they appeared on their shores, Eastern tribes adopted their medicinal uses, which they learned from the Europeans.

Image by Peter Kraayvanger from Cultural History

The delicate Poppy flowers are beautiful to behold. Their papery petals gently waft in the summer's breeze - alas, it is a short-lived beauty. Here one day, gone the next. The fleeting splendour only lasts a few days before the petals fall, revealing a bulging seed pod.

The seed pods hold a myriad of tiny poppy seeds, a familiar item of the kitchen larder. We use them as toppings of bread rolls and bagels, or as cake fillings. Less commonly available is the delicately nutty seed oil, highly esteemed in gourmet cuisines.

But poppy has a secret power, and it flows within its fleshy stems, leaves and unripe seed capsules: its milky latex.

When it oxidizes and dries, the latex turns brown and becomes what the Ancients knew as 'opion'. This substance has been used for thousands of years. In the days of blood and gore, opion was a god-sent pain-reliever. Even today, the most effective pain relievers are still predominantly based on it.

Thanks to its potent analgesic and hypnotic properties, Opium relieves not only physical but also emotional pain. But woe to those who are seduced by it. Taken too regularly, it entraps the body and chains the mind to addiction, causing delusion, apathy, and even death.

Yet, in the words of Paracelsus:

"What is there that is not poison? All things are poison, and nothing is without poison. Solely the dose determines that a thing is not a poison.”

Our age-old relationship with poppies proves the point. Throughout history, it has brought great relief but also suffering and death.

 

Historical record

Archaeological evidence suggests that humans have used poppies since pre-historic times. Archaeobotanists have found charred remains of poppies and opium at Neolithic settlements, burial sites and even in the tombs of Egyptian Pharaohs. The latter were even decorated with paintings of Opium Poppy, Mandrake and Blue Water Lily - all considered magical plants connected to the underworld gods.

The earliest written record was found in Sumer and dates back to about 2000 B.C. It refers to poppies as 'Hul Gil' - the Herb of Joy. From Sumer, the knowledge and use of poppies spread throughout the Middle East to Babylonia, Assyria and Egypt, Persia and Greece.

They are mentioned in the famous Egyptian Eber's Papyrus (1500 B.C.), which recommends them as a remedy to calm incessantly crying babies. Remarkably, this use has persisted until the beginning of the 20th century in parts of North Africa and Europe. It certainly kept children quiet, but it also reduced their natural curiosity, thus dimming their wits.

From Hippocrates to Avicenna, Dioscorides and Galen - all the ancient medical texts mention opium as an effective painkiller and sedative.

Dioscorides offers a detailed description of how to obtain the latex:

"Those who wish to obtain the sap (of the Poppy) must go after the dew has dried, and draw their knife around the star in such a manner as not to penetrate the inside of the capsule, and also make straight incisions down the sides. Then with your finger wipe the extruding tear into a shell. When you return to it not long after, you will find the sap thickened, and the next day you will find it much the same. Pound the sap in your mortar and roll the mass into pills."

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Image by
Andy Faeth from Mythology

Poppies were considered sacred to Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep, and they guarded the entrance to his drowsy realm. Hypnos is often depicted holding the seed capsules in his hands and adorning his head. He brought prophetic dreams and soothed emotional pain with forgetfulness.

At the temple of Aesclepius on the Greek island of Cos, poppies were used in a kind of sleep therapy. Aesclepius is a god of healing, but the only medicine he prescribed was a potent brew of opium and other herbs, while the therapeutic recommendations were revealed directly to the patients via visionary dreams.

The Romans identified Hypnos with their god of sleep, 'Somnus', who lent his name to poppies scientific nomenclature. 'Somniferus' comes from the Latin 'somnus ferre', - bringer of sleep.

Poppies had a strong association with the gods of the Underworld. In Greek mythology, they were sacred to Thanatos or Hades, the Lord of the Underworld, and ruler of the realm of the dead. Excessive doses of opium can bring eternal sleep.

But they were also sacred to Demeter, the Earth-Goddess, who taught humankind the art of agriculture and particularly the cultivation of grains such as wheat and barley. Demeter was, of course, inconsolable when Hades abducted her daughter Persephone. Only poppies managed to soothe her pain. Poppies love mingling among the cornfields, and their bulging seed pods, containing an abundance of tiny seeds, serve as a perfect symbol of fertility.

Some scholars believe that opium was a chief ingredient of the secret ritual drink served at the Elysian Mystery rites. Unfortunately, the recipe ranks among the best-kept secrets of the ancient world, so we will never know for sure.

Mythology tells us that poppies sprang from Aphrodite's tears as she mourned the loss of her lover, Adonis. In ancient times, her birthplace, the island of Cyprus, was a major centre of poppy cultivation and trade.

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Folk Magic

Poppy's association with the goddess of love is also reflected in its relaxing aphrodisiac properties. Opium was very popular in folkloristic love magic. During the Middle Ages, it was the ingredient of choice for love charms, philtres and potions. Poppies were also tasked with predicting the fortunes of lovers. To learn the identity of a future spouse or divine the outcome of a love affair, the inquirer would write his question on a piece of parchment and place it inside a poppy seed capsule. The seed pod was then placed under the pillow until a prophetic dream would reveal all.

Naturally, love associates with fertility. The belly-like seed pod full of seeds makes an apt symbol not just of fertility, but also of prosperity. On New Year's Eve, giving gifts of poppy sweetbread served as tokens of prosperity blessings, while the seed capsules were used as a fertility charm.

Invisibility was also considered one of the poppy's magic powers. For this purpose, it was included in a magic potion. This use is probably linked to the myth of Persephone. It is believed that Hades' wore a cap of invisibility that resembled a poppy seed pod when he abducted Persephone.

Yet, poppy seeds are also said to be anti-demonic. If one found such nasty creatures hard on one's heels, all one had to do to get rid of them was to toss some poppy seeds in their direction. Apparently, demons and vampires are compelled to count everything. A handful of scattered poppy seeds would keep them busy long enough to allow you to escape.

From traditional herbal medicine to potent pharmaceutical drug and addiction

 

Opium was widely used in the ancient world, but it was Andromachos, the personal physician of Emperor Nero, who popularized it. One day, Nero challenged Andromachos to create a true panacea, a remedy that would ease all pain and diseases. The physician came up with a potent potion consisting of about sixty different plants and substances, including opium, which he called 'Theriak'. Later, Galen refined the brew and renamed it Galene. It became so popular throughout Europe that it rose to the status of a miracle cure. But the potion was expensive, and some ingredients were difficult to obtain, which led to adulteration.

During the Middle Ages, medicine became 'heroic' - in other words, unsympathetic, and patients were expected to simply bear their pain. The use of opium as a painkiller declined. But eventually, Paracelsus revived it by creating a stripped-down version of the original Theriak recipe, which proved extremely effective and soon surpassed even the success of the original. He compounded his concoction into pill form and called it 'Laudanum Paracelsi'.

 

 

Laudanum

He had managed to make his painkiller even more effective by the simple addition of lemon juice. The acid subtly changes opium's chemistry and enhances its anodyne action. For a long time, Laudanum was a celebrated panacea, believed to be effective for every ailment except leprosy.

The somewhat hyperbolic reputation meant that it was often in short supply. But it also pricked scientific curiosity and inspired numerous experiments. It even gave rise to the groundbreaking invention of the hypodermic needle. In 1656, Sir Christopher Wren first employed a syringe to prove the theory of blood circulation. He injected a dog's hind leg with a solution of opium, and sure enough, the drug rapidly took effect over the dog's entire body.

In 1680, the English Doctor Thomas Sydenham revised Paracelsus' potion once again. His aim was to purify the raw drug and rid it of impurities that seemed to cause 'sickness' when taken in large quantities. He added sherry wine, saffron, cinnamon and cloves to Paracelsus' Laudanum and renamed it 'Sydenham's Laudanum'. It was no more effective than the original, but it kicked off a new wave of enthusiasm for opium-based products. Soon every chemist seemed to market their own blend. Venice Treacle, Mithridate, London Laudanum and Dr Bate's Pacific Pills all became popular household names. But the available raw opium could barely keep up with the demand.

Laudanum was as popular as aspirin is today. Physicians routinely prescribed twice-weekly preventative dosing. Alas, sometimes too much of a good thing proves, well..., too much.

 

 

Overprescription and Addiction

It was at this time that overprescription led to the first cases of serious opium addiction. The problem was compounded by the fact that Laudanum was even overprescribed for children. But the problem with an addictive substance such as opium is that frequent dosing increases the body's resistance, and larger amounts are required to get the same results.

In 1700, Dr John Jones published a book called 'The Mysteries of Opium Revealed'. In the course of about 400 pages, he extolled the properties of opium. Describing its uses and effects, he also reported on its pleasant side effects and symptoms of addiction. Although his work was clearly biased and likely to have been influenced by his own intimate relationship with the subject, it did contain a grain of genius. Jones was the first to intuit that opium actually imitated substances that are already present in the body. But it took another 275 years before scientists discovered these substances, which subsequently became known as endorphins.

 

 

Morphine

Debate and experimentation continued. In 1799, Friedrich Sertürner, a young German pharmacist's apprentice, observed that the effects of opium seemed to vary considerably from batch to batch. He became convinced that this must be due to the varying presence of an active constituent in the raw opium. After only four years of experimentation, he managed to isolate such a substance. In allusion to the Greek god of sleep, he called 'morphine'. But he wrongly believed that this purified compound was free of the unpleasant characteristics of opium. He had assumed that morphine was safer because only a tiny amount of it was necessary to induce far stronger effects than those of raw opium. But neither he nor anyone else at the time realized that it was also far more addictive. Soon, several pharmaceutical companies started to churn out morphine by the boatload. At the same time, Wren's earlier invention for injecting opium was perfected and morphed into what we now know as the hypodermic syringe. The improvement was celebrated as a great success, since the administration of morphine via a syringe tripled its efficacy.

The story of opium epitomizes the risk of relying on science to solve all our problems. Sometimes the solution to one problem engenders new ones that we only fully grasp much later.

(The history of poppy also has a very interesting, dark and thought-provoking political aspect, which, however, is beyond the scope of this article. Those interested in this plant and its impact on world history should read up on the opium wars - the consequences of which still linger.