Gathering

As I said yesterday, I would be out gathering things to stock in my cupboards. Oak leaves and Ivy and most herbs are well within the reach of anyone - apartment dwellers, tight-budgeted individuals, etc.

I told you I had *mini* oak trees. I do. Here's one of them that gave me a few leaves today. Perfect color this year!

When we planted them this particular little oak was exactly three feet tall. I measure them every year.

I just measured the trees again this morning. (ignore the grass that needs cut. You can see some of the ivy and my cat Merlin in the window in the back of the photo)

This guy is now a WHOPPING 3 feet, 1.25 inches! WOO HOO! 

After six years - it's grown a whole 1.25 inches! YEAH!  Yeah - I need to get out and weed, prune, etc. All in good time, folks. All in good time. Like, probably next spring. haha.

Now.. I mentioned yesterday that there is little in a suburban neighborhood that will send your neighbors in foaming at the mouth fits quite like letting ivy grow on your brick. Believe me. It's true. Here's a picture of the ivy that has been growing for about five years on the north side of the house: (and yes, more plants and, of course, my cat Merlin, in the window)

 

According to suburban law, it would completely be within my neighbor's rights to drag me from my house in the middle of the night, strip me naked, whip me until dawn, then set me afire on a bonfire woven with all that ivy - freshly pulled down by the neighbors themselves.

Here's how the conversation with my neighbors go. Every year. Yep. EVERY YEAR we have this conversation.

Neighbor: You know, I don't mean to butt in or anything, but... you do know that the ivy is going to destroy your brick, right?

Me: Really? Who says? 

Neighbor: So and so on that gardening program on television. 

Me: Huh. Well, I guess they don't make 'em like they used to. 

Neighbor: What?

Me: You know. The brick. And mortar. I guess the people hundred of years ago made brick and mortar better by hand with whatever materials were local than we can make it today. Or even a hundred years ago. Obviously, so and so from that tv program never went to Harvard. Or Princeton. Or Cornell...

Neighbor:  What does their college education have to do with anything? (by this point, they usually have a vague sense I've set them up for a classic Copperhead strike, but can't figure it out)

Me: Nothing. But, if we concede that my brick is about to crumble anyday from some ivy growing on it, we should be worrying about our great University buildings - which have been covered for 150 years or more in... IVY. And all those medieval buildings over in Europe - why do you suppose they haven't tumbled to dust yet? 

Neighbor: ummmm.....

Yeah. We basically have that conversation, or some variation thereof EVERY YEAR. Sometimes I'll ask when will my brick be destroyed. They'll say like... in a 100 years. Then I ask them if they really think I'm going to be around to care.  We go round and round. Sooner or later, they'll figure out that I'm not going to give up my ivy. Tooooo bad.

So... here is what I've harvested so far:

It isn't much, but I will harvest a few more times - I only take a small amount each time, and I always ask first and leave a gift. I think it's a fair deal. (I harvested more oak leaves, but they were in the basket still)

Hopefully later this weekend, it will be acorns and the rosemary - and maybe more happy finds along the way.

      

Harvesting

All the focus right now is of course, on Samhain.

For me, this means a last minute wild dash to check our small oak trees outside - are they the perfect color to pick some leaves for my altar? In my case - YES!

So this weekend I will be busy collecting several things on my Stock the Cabinet list.

• Oak leaves - in full color
• Acorns (my oaks are still babies, but I know a few nearby parks with some ancient oaks and a plethora of acorns to be had!)
• Trimming the ivy growing up the side of my house. (Nothing can send your cookie-cutter, new-home-suburban neighbors wilder than letting ivy grow on your brick house. More on that in another post)
• Harvesting the last of the herbs that have held on - most notably my potted rosemary outside. 

That's enough for this weekend with all the other commitments that we have on our calendar. It seems like a lot, but it isn't very time consuming. The oaks, the ivy and the herbs are outside my door - 30 minutes tops for everything. The trip to a nearby park can be a quick stop while on our way to the grocery this weekend. Another 20 minute stop. So, less than an hour's worth of 'work' for a year's worth of stocked items.

I will be on the lookout for black candles this year, as always - but I have to say something about purchasing black candles at Halloween.

They are almost never solid black candles. And you can't always tell until you burn them.

Making solid black wax is very dye-intensive. I know, because that's what I've resorted to doing for the last decade or so. Most of the black candles you will find at big box retailers will be white candles dipped in a couple coatings of wax. They also typically smell like black licorice or nothing at all. Choosing the scent is another perk to making the candle yourself.

If you have no other alternative - use them. I have many years, and have had no adverse affects. I know some out there will howl like hungry wolves on a winter's night about this, but I am not one of them. I've faced the reality of very limited funds and even fewer options to buy a black candle.

If you do find a solid black candle at a local store, I would highly advise you to buy all your finances and storage space will allow. Don't assume that they will carry them again next year - I made that mistake. I went back to *x* retailer that had fabulously rich solid black candles the year before (I noted it in my BOS) and without inspecting them too closely, I bought a year's worth of those candles from that same vendor. I walked out of there feeling like I'd hit the lottery.

I had planned. I had saved up. Look at me go! All organized and frugal. Yeah.

(que the disappointing wah-wah-sound here)

You guessed it. They had changed those candles to the black-dipped variety. So there I was with a year's worth of black-dipped candles, an empty *Witch Kitty Account* (my term for the money I squirrel away for my magical supplies) and Samhain looming in front of me.

You'd better believe I used those candles. You can, too. Honest. It isn't preferable, but if you have no choice, do what you can. Intent is always your biggest ally. Always.