Spring has always held a special kind of magic for me. Yesterday, I found myself outside, sitting by the pond, soaking in the beauty of the day. The cicadas were loud, louder than ever—almost as if they were determined to make themselves heard above the gentle hum of the world waking up. But as I sat there with my earplugs in, I noticed the quiet magic unfolding around me. All throughout the top garden, sprinkles of forget-me-nots—the flower that holds such a tender place in my heart—were blooming.
These delicate blue flowers have been with me for years. They first came from a single seed packet I threw into the garden when we lived in Menangle. That was back when my children were babies, and our sweet home was an old brick worker’s cottage. It overlooked a pasture of gentle cows, and on Saturday mornings, we’d hear the nostalgic whistle of the steam train at the old station. The back garden was shaded by a magnificent, ancient wisteria tree that would leave a carpet of soft mauve after its blooming season. I thought that place would be our forever home, but life had other plans, as it so often does.
Even though we had to leave, I always carry pieces of the homes we’ve lived in with me—just like how I collect feathers, stones, and ‘good sticks’ when I travel. These forget-me-nots were one of those pieces, and they’ve been blooming in every garden I’ve had since. The idea to plant them came after a phone call with my grandmother. I asked her what I could plant that would be easy and cheap to care for, and she said, “Plant forget-me-nots—you’ll never get rid of them.” And she was right.
These flowers have become a living reminder of my grandmother and of the love that never fades. They bloom with such joy, and every year, I’m reminded of all the people I’ve loved. In these moments, my memories blossom as strongly as the flowers. But just like the forget-me-nots, this bloom of love is only temporary—soon the flowers will fade, turn brown, and need to be cleared away. But the greatest gift they leave behind is the seeds—tiny treasures that will be sprinkled for next season, ensuring the cycle continues.
On Friday morning, as I sat among the bees buzzing around the garden, I thought about the future my little forget-me-nots have given them. And then, I thought of the future my own love might create for others, just as my grandmother’s love continues to shape me. To me, this is magic at its finest—witchcraft in its simplest form. It’s the intentional act of planting seeds, both literal and metaphorical, that carry love and wisdom forward into the future.
Later that evening, my daughter Helena came over for our Friday night dinner, along with my son and Adam. Helena brought her little dog Arthur, who, as always, trampled through my garden. When she sat next to me, picking seeds out of his fur, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Helena didn’t even realize the seeds she was pulling were part of a conversation I had with her great-grandma all those years ago. As I watched her, I found myself hoping that one day, she’ll pick up that same magic and carry it forward in her own way.
The seeds we plant today, in our gardens, in our relationships, and in our lives, shape the world we will walk into tomorrow. And sometimes, we don’t even realize the magic we’re setting in motion until we see it bloom years later.
Below I share a little journaling prompt with you, and if you are willing to share I would love to know some ways that this practice has either inspired you to either plant your own magic seeds today or reflect upon some of your own magic that you planted long ago but have perhaps forgotten about.
Journaling Prompt:
What seeds of magic are you planting today that could blossom in the future? Reflect on a simple action or moment of wisdom you’ve experienced that could carry its energy forward. How might you nurture it, so it shines for yourself and others in the days to come?
Blessed Be
Angela ❀
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