Samhain dinner, dorm edition
Planning a tiny Samhain dinner with my roommates next weekend. Nobody else is a witch, but everybody misses somebody, so it works.
The plan: one empty chair at the table, a photo of each of our grandparents on the windowsill, LED tealights (approved by the RA, in writing, I have the email), and my grandma's pumpkin bread, which I have failed to make correctly three times so far.
We'll go around and each share one story about the person in our photo. That's the whole ritual. I think it's enough.
Orgo midterm tomorrow, so I did a tiny study spell at my desk. LED tealight (my RA would end me otherwise), a sprig of Rosmarinus officinalis from the campus herb garden tucked into my notes, and three deep breaths while I said "what I studied, I will remember."
Then I studied for four more hours, because that's the actual spell. Will report back.
Dreaming in Latin binomials
Plant systematics midterm tomorrow, and last night a yarrow plant the size of a person sat on the end of my dorm bed and said, very slowly, 'Achillea. Millefolium.' Then it said it again in case I wasn't listening.
I've been making flashcards for two weeks and apparently my brain has converted them all into houseguests. Pretty sure this is either studying working or a visitation from the entire Asteraceae family. Either way, I am not getting that one wrong.
My amethyst was not amethyst
Bought a gorgeous 'amethyst' cluster at a market last spring and brought it to mineralogy lab today because I was proud of it. My lab partner (geology major, very gentle about it) did a quick hardness check and a look under the loupe.
Dyed agate. Very purple. Not even slightly amethyst.
I was embarrassed for about an hour and then kind of delighted, because now I actually know how to tell. Real quartz scratches glass, amethyst color usually sits in zones rather than pooling in the cracks, and if it looks like grape soda, it probably is. The agate is staying on my windowsill anyway. It didn't lie to me. The seller did.
The flower that waited for me
I have the late watering shift at the university greenhouse, and there's a night-blooming cereus in the succulent room that flowers maybe one night a year. Nobody knew which night.
Wednesday, 11:40pm, I walked in and the whole room smelled like vanilla and something like oranges. The flower was open, bigger than my hand, glowing white under the one security light, with the moon right behind it through the glass roof.
I know the science: night bloom, pale petals, strong scent, it's all for the moths. I wrote it up properly in my lab notebook, Latin name and everything. But I also stood there and said thank you out loud, because it felt like it had waited for me. By 7am it had closed for good.
Electric kettle apothecary
Dorm potion setup: one electric kettle, one mason jar, one botany textbook. Tonight's blend is Mentha × piperita (peppermint), Melissa officinalis (lemon balm) and a few dried Rosa petals, steeped five minutes with the lid on so the volatile oils stay in the cup.
I know exactly what every plant in my mug is, down to the genus, and that's the whole point. My first year I bought a "witch tea" online with mystery ingredients and I am still mad about it. Learn your plants, friends. Latin names are a love language.