So I have this really unattractive tree in the backyard right by the back door. It’s very fast to grow, has kind of an unpleasant look in general, and the biggest drawback has been the fact that one bajillion spiders decide to make their little homes in it. I had been pruning and de-spidering for the last year, and then a great idea hit me to just chop off all the branches and make it my witch bottle tree. I did that about 2 months ago, and chose my bottles with care. I found vintage inkwells and sauce bottles on Ebay and proceeded to be delighted with creating and caring for this new purpose for the tree.
But. Every day, I’m greeted with new shoots of red tendrils that will turn into leaves very quickly if I don’t pluck them off. While I know that I can buy a product to put on the cut branches to prohibit growth, I’ve found that visiting this tree every day, plucking off its new growth, and making it part of an intentional process has secretly woven its way into my practice, even without realizing it until this morning. It’s kind of full-on goth to have this tree serve a magical purpose – one of protection and warding – and also keep it in a state that is between veils, living but also not being allowed to live fully, to be this purgatory tree trapped in this state for my own devices.
It makes me consider my own power, intentions, and how infinite the possibilities are between and beyond life and death. I want to treat this tree with care, and it seems like despite how much I really resented it’s presence, I’ve learned to work with it and appreciate it in a new way. The tree tries and tries. I think it knows what I’m trying to accomplish, though. It grows. I inhibit it. It gives in to the cycle. I give in, as well. We become symbiotic, and the bottles sing with energy.