Notes from the hut · Kraków, Poland

Polish Folklore: The Old Customs I Still Keep

Dzień dobry, moja droga. Sit down, the kettle is on. You asked where my craft comes from — so let me tell you about the old ways of my country, the ones my grandmother carried in her apron pocket, and the ones I still keep here in my hut outside Kraków.

Salt at the threshold

In a Polish home, salt is not only for the soup. A line of salt at the doorstep keeps ill will from crossing in, and a pinch carried in the pocket steadies a nervous heart. When I cast a protection spell, salt is the first thing I reach for — it is the oldest lock our people ever put on a door.

Rowan and mugwort, the witch's herbs

Rowan berries strung on red thread hang over many a cradle in the villages, and mugwort — bylica, we call her — is gathered before sunrise for cleansing smoke. These are not decorations. They are tools, older than the church bells, and I dry bunches of both every summer for my cleansing and protection work.

Kupała Night and the fire of love

On Noc Kupały, the shortest night of the year, young people once leapt the bonfires hand in hand and set flower wreaths afloat on the river to learn whom they would marry. Love magic runs deep in our soil, moja droga. When I cast for the heart — to call a soulmate, to warm a cooling love — I work in that same old current.

Drowning Marzanna, letting the old year go

Every spring we braid a straw figure, Marzanna, and carry her to the river. She is winter, sickness, and every stale sorrow — and away she goes. This is the heart of cleansing magic: you do not fight the old thing, you thank it and let the water take it. My uncrossing and cleansing spells follow the same road.

Candlelight and the spoken word

A beeswax candle, a quiet room, and words spoken plainly — this is how my grandmother worked, and how I work. No theatre, no smoke and mirrors. The flame carries the intention, and the word gives it a direction. Every spell I cast for you is done this way: by hand, by candlelight, the old way.