Magic lived in the mountains. Everyone went to church on Sundays and thanked God for their blessings, but they thought nothing of going to wise women and seventh sons when someone was sick and the doctors hadn't been able to treat it. There were home remedies for all your ailments, and each family passed down their favorites from generation to generation. Grandmothers knew under which moon you should pick each plant. Herb and flower gardens were for more than just pretty bouquets and cooking. Little bowls of milk and honey were left on doorsteps for the wee folk. Coffee grounds in the bottom of cups were mysteries our grandmothers could solve. Mirrors were covered and the deathbed window was opened if someone passed in the house. Porch and nursery ceilings were haint blue. Dowsers looked for water when a new well needed to be drilled. We never plant cedar trees on our property or rock empty cradles. If I gift a blade of any sort, the recipient has to pay me a penny per blade to ward off bad luck. We didn't wash on New Years, and we always ate our greens, hog jowl, and black-eyed peas. Omens were everywhere.
I didn't realize that wasn't the norm because it was my life. I never thought of the wise women and men as witches or what they did as witchcraft until much later in my life. I doubt any of them thought of it that way. They were all God-fearing people, and they would have been horrified to be viewed that way. I see the connections now. I can see how the Druidic and Celt traditions brought to the Carolina mountains by our Scots ancestors mixed with those of the First People who were already there.
Mountain magic is practical and purposeful and humble. The people were poor people for the most part, and they made the most of everything they had. Practical magic was a resource too for healing the sick, blessing new marriages and homes, birthing babies, nurturing crops and livestock. The superstitions and customs blended so seamlessly that over generations most people became blind to what they really were. It was just the way things were in Appalachian life.
I wish I could go back and ask my great grandmothers and great-great grandmother who all lived to over 100 to share what they knew. It would have been a fascinating conversation.
