I love this! I’m doing the same one but not as completely in depth as you! Amazing job, @Ostara 
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It wasn’t my amazing job. It was AI.
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Challenge Entry # 1 (Holiday Crafting)
Yuletide Spell Jar-Renewal & Rebirth
I created my Yuletide spell jar at the turning of the year, when the night feels longest and everything pauses between what has been and what is still becoming. I began by cleansing the bottle with palo santo smoke, clearing away lingering heaviness and making space for renewal.
This jar was made for rebirth, but not the loud or sudden kind. I wanted the slow kind. The kind that begins in the dark.
I placed rosemary inside for remembrance and clarity, cinnamon for warmth and forward movement, rose petals for self-love, lavender for rest, and calendula for the promise of returning light. Each ingredient was chosen with care, honoring what I’ve carried while gently loosening what no longer needs to stay.
For stones, I used garnet for life force, red jasper for grounding, citrine for hope and abundance, and clear quartz to hold and amplify the intention. I tied two tiny Nordic charms around the neck of the jar with twine, sealed it with green wax, and spoke my closing words aloud.
Now it rests on my altar, a quiet promise to myself: rebirth doesn’t rush. Even in the longest night, something is already beginning again.
Yuletide_Renewal_Spell_Jar_BOS.pdf (3.7 KB)
(Created with the help of AI)
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Challenge Entry # 2 (Sacred Blades: Athames & Bolines)
My Athame Ritual: A Sharp Thing That Protects Me
Yesterday, during the winter solstice, I pulled out one of my favorite tools, my Celtic athame. For anyone new to the term: an athame is a ritual blade, traditionally not used for physical cutting. It’s used to direct energy, cast or define sacred space, and sometimes to cut energetic cords or spiritual ties. It’s less “knife” and more “boundary with a handle.”
My Athame Ritual
I set the scene simply, because I’m learning that my strongest magic doesn’t need a dramatic entrance. I laid my athame across my copy of Wild Magic by Danu Forest, right over that bold triple-spiral design like a quiet little omen. The whole setup looked like it belonged there: Celtic symbols under a Celtic blade, like the altar was nodding yes.
The blade itself catches light like a mirror, polished enough to reflect the room back at me. Even the reflection felt symbolic, like it was asking: What are you really carrying? What are you willing to keep?
And then there’s the detail that makes it feel unmistakably mine: that purple pentacle-style medallion set into the handle, like a small galaxy sealed into glass. The matching case has the same purple emblem, which makes the whole thing feel “paired,” like blade and sheath are in agreement about their job.
I also had a small green tumbled stone nearby, sea-glass colored in the light. It gave the whole moment a softer edge, like the reminder that protection doesn’t have to be harsh to be real.
Step by step, this is what I did
1) I started with one flame.
I lit a candle, nothing elaborate, just a steady point of light. Then I took three slow breaths until my shoulders stopped trying to live up by my ears.
2) I greeted the athame like it could hear me.
Because honestly… it can. Not with ears. With presence.
I held it for a moment and let the weight settle into my hand, the way you let an honest truth settle into your chest.
3) I named what this tool is and is not.
Out loud, I made it clear: this blade isn’t for harm. It’s for clarity. It’s for sovereignty. It’s for the moment where I stop negotiating with what drains me.
4) I drew my boundary.
I lifted the athame and slowly traced a circle in the air around myself. Not rushed. Not aggressive. Just deliberate.
Like I was telling the universe: This is where I end. This is where I choose.
5) I released what isn’t mine to carry.
As I stood there, I let the blade do what it does best in my practice: cut through the fog.
I didn’t “banish” anything with force. I didn’t pick a fight with my own life.
I just imagined the athame clearing away the sticky threads, the old obligations, the invisible weight that tries to attach itself to me.
6) I anchored it back into gentleness.
When the air felt clearer, I lowered the blade and placed it down again, letting it rest.
Then I put my hand over my heart and made the vow that matters most for me:
I do not turn this blade on myself.
I let it protect me instead.
7) I closed it cleanly.
I extinguished the candle, not as an ending, but as a seal.
The boundary stayed even when the flame went out.
And that was it. Quiet. Powerful. Complete.
Do you have a tool that feels like it remembers you as much as you remember it?
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Beautiful ritual, @Eira_of_the_Living_Hearth. Thank you for sharing.
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Challenge Entry # 3 (Who’s My Deity?)
Gaia. Always Gaia.
I don’t call Gaia. I live inside her.
She is the floor beneath my bare feet, the hum of the house settling at night, the way the ocean air slips through open windows and reminds me to breathe. My devotion doesn’t look like grand ceremony. It looks like sweeping the floor with intention. Fixing instead of discarding. Letting a patch of dirt exist without trying to tame it. Remembering that even beneath pavement, the land still remembers itself.
My hearth is my altar. The kitchen, the broom, the sink, the quiet rituals of keeping a home alive. When I stir a pot, I’m not just feeding bodies. I’m participating in an old agreement. Care for the land, and the land will carry you. Care for the body, and the spirit will have somewhere safe to rest.
Gaia is not soft because she is gentle. She is gentle because she is vast. She teaches me boundaries through coastlines, patience through seasons, and truth through decay. Nothing is wasted. Nothing is rushed. Everything belongs.
My ancestors sit with me here too. Not as distant names, but as muscle memory. The way my hands know what to do without being taught. The way thrift feels sacred, not small. The way survival and reverence often share the same tools. When I cook, clean, mend, or rest, I feel them nodding. This is how we kept going. This is how we honored the Earth when we didn’t have the language for devotion, only the practice.
I have a beautiful statue BUT I don’t need a statue to know who walks with me. I feel her in craft and candlelight, in reused jars and repaired things, in the choice to open a window instead of turning away. Gaia is present tense. She is lived, not summoned.
I belong to the Earth.
And the Earth belongs to no one.
And lately, Gaia has led me to another Goddess who feels like home,
Hestia, Keeper of the Hearth
(Image from Google Images)
Hestia’s Story
Hestia is one of the quietest gods in Greek mythology and also one of the most powerful. She does not conquer, seduce, or punish. She stays. Where the fire burns steadily, where food is prepared, where vows are spoken and honored, Hestia is already there.
She is the goddess of the hearth, home, domestic peace, sacred fire, and communal unity. Every temple fire and every household hearth belonged to her first.
Hestia is the eldest of the Olympians, daughter of Cronus and Rhea. Like her siblings, she was swallowed by her father and later freed by Zeus. When offered a throne on Olympus, she refused. Instead, she chose to remain at the hearth of both gods and mortals.
She vowed eternal virginity, not as denial, but as sovereignty. Her power does not move outward. It anchors inward.
In ancient Greece:
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Every home honored Hestia first
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Every meal began and ended with an offering to her
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Every new settlement carried a flame from her hearth
She is the center that allows everything else to exist.
Hestia is devotion without spectacle.
She rules:
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The home as sacred space
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Routine as ritual
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Peace as protection
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Boundaries that keep chaos out
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The quiet strength of tending and maintaining
She often calls to:
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Hearth witches
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Ancestral practitioners
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Those healing from chaos or displacement
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People reclaiming safety, routine, and embodiment
If Gaia is the living land, Hestia is the fire that makes the land habitable.
“Hestia, keeper of the hearth,
I honor the fire that keeps me whole.
I offer care, presence, and peace.
May this home be steady, warm, and protected.”
I don’t light a candle to impress the gods. I light it so my home knows it’s safe.
Hestia lives in the quiet center of things. She is the fire that doesn’t demand attention, only care. When I cook, when I clean, when I tend the small rituals that keep a household breathing, she is there. Not watching. Participating.
My devotion to Hestia will be consistent. Warm meals. A swept floor. A candle lit before the day begins and thanked before it ends. She reminds me that peace is not passive. It is maintained. It is protected.
Gaia gives me the body of the world. Hestia gives me shelter within it. Earth and flame. Soil and stove. One holds me. The other warms me.
My ancestors knew her well, even if they never spoke her name. Their wisdom lives in thrift, in mending, in the understanding that tending a home is not small magic. It is survival magic. It is love with calloused hands.
I don’t ask Hestia for miracles.
I ask her to help me keep the fire steady.
And I hope she always will.
A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT
My Witch’s Name
After almost four years here in the coven, I have finally decided on my witch’s name:
Eira of the Living Hearth
It took me almost four years to speak it aloud.
I didn’t choose this name because it sounded powerful. I chose it because it felt honest. Because it describes how I already live. Because it was waiting for me instead of chasing me.
Gaia holds me. She always has. I know her in my bones; in the way my body listens to the seasons even when the calendar insists otherwise. I honor her when I recycle, repair, craft, and open my windows to let the ocean air move through my home. I honor her when I remember that even beneath pavement, the land is still alive.
And now, Hestia keeps me. She is the quiet fire at the center of my life. The hearth that doesn’t demand devotion, only consistency. She lives in my kitchen, my broom, my habits. In the understanding that peace is not passive. It is maintained. It is protected. It is fed daily.
My ancestors knew these truths without naming them. Their magic lived in thrift, in tending, in survival dressed as routine. I carry them forward every time I choose care over chaos, warmth over spectacle, presence over performance.
I am not a witch of grand temples or loud invocations. I am a witch of lived devotion. Of a home that breathes. Of fires that stay lit because someone bothered to tend them.
So, I stand here as Eira of the Living Hearth.
Rooted in Earth.
Warmed by flame.
Held by those who came before me.
And I offer this name not as a declaration of power, but as a promise of care.
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Thank you, Georgia!
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Challenge Entry 4- Holiday Cheer
I may have to take this down too soon, thanks to Santa’s delivery of luggage on my porch. The blue behind is my patio door.
I had wanted to display my craft to do items. Many are toys like an unpainted wooden nutcracker and a garden stepping stone portraying a unicorn. Under the star basket are craft supplies, and the other plastic bin is peppermint puffs. Since Maintenance may show up at any moment to tear it all down, here’s a pic of what I have so far.
The tree is decorated with unicorn earrings and pendants, clay candy canes, tinsel, and rubber band garlands.
The top of my Magickal Cabinet will remain decorated for the holiday.
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Challenge entry #2
Since Nature and the garden is such a big part of my practice, I thought I’d do this one from 2024, before I joined the coven.
I hope this counts as an entry because it’s actually something I wrote with Co-Pilot last summer. This is an entry from my Book of Shadows.
Image via Pinterest
I spent some time this morning, sitting in the shade on the patio, enjoying the breeze of the fans and watching the birds and butterflies in the garden. It got me thinking it would be nice to have a little prayer of gratitude that I could say when sitting out on the patio like that, so I worked with Co-Pilot to come up with one.
Blessed be this sacred land,
Where earth and sky entwine,
I give my heartfelt gratitude
For every leaf and vine.
For blossoms bright and petals soft,
For roots and stones below,
For sun and rain and gentle breeze,
That help all beauty grow.
Spirits of nature, guardians near,
I honor all you give—
In this enchanted garden’s heart,
May harmony always live.
So mote it be.
In addition to the prayer, Co-Pilot provided this information about the importance of gratitude in the Wiccan spiritual tradition. Even though I’m Eclectic, so much of it resonates with me, I had to include it here as well.
Roses blooming in our Texas garden in December
The Spirit of Wiccan Gratitude
Wicca, an earth-centered spiritual tradition, holds deep reverence for the natural world. Practitioners recognize divinity in the cycles and rhythms of nature and offer thanks for the bounty, inspiration, and beauty that the earth provides. The garden, whether wild or tended by human hands, is a living tapestry—a space where the energies of earth, air, fire, and water meet in vibrant harmony. Within Wiccan practice, gratitude is not only a feeling but a sacred act that strengthens the bond between self and the land.
Why Offer Thanks?
Giving thanks within Wicca is more than a polite gesture; it is a form of ritual that acknowledges the interconnectedness of all beings and the gifts received from the earth. Expressing gratitude draws attention to the miracle of life, fosters mindfulness, and deepens one’s spiritual relationship with nature. In a garden, this practice becomes immediate and tangible: the scents, colors, sounds, and textures remind us of abundance and the everyday magic that surrounds us.
Elements of a Wiccan Garden Prayer
A Wiccan prayer of thanks for a garden’s beauty often includes the following elements:
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Acknowledgment of the Divine: Honoring the Goddess, God, or the spirits of nature present in the garden landscape.
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Gratitude for the Elements: Thanking the earth for its soil, air for its gentle breezes, fire for the warmth of sunlight, and water for nourishing rain and dew.
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Recognition of Life: Celebrating the diversity of plants, insects, birds, and other creatures that make the garden vibrant and alive.
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Intent for Harmony: Wishing continued balance, health, and beauty within the sacred space.
Ritual Suggestions
While a prayer may be spoken at any moment of appreciation, it can be woven into daily routines or special rituals:
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Begin or end your time in the garden with a brief moment of silence and gratitude.
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Light a candle or incense as an offering, placing it safely in a spot that feels sacred to you.
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Touch the soil or a favorite plant as you speak your words, connecting physically to the earth’s energy.
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Leave a natural gift—such as a stone, flower, or a pinch of herbs—for the spirits of the land.
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Journal your experiences, noting moments when the beauty of the garden moved you to thanks.
Expanding Your Practice
The core of Wiccan gratitude is sincerity; let your words flow naturally and adapt them to your own feelings and observations. Here is an additional short prayer to inspire your practice:
Mother Earth, I thank you now—
For petals soft and ancient bough,
For wing and root and stone and tree,
This garden’s grace surrounding me.
By sun that warms and moon that glows,
By wind that stirs and rain that flows,
I thank the spirits, seen and free,
For all the garden gives to me.
The Significance of the Garden in Wicca
Gardens hold a special place in Wiccan and Pagan tradition. Not only do they provide food and shelter, but they also serve as outdoor temples—a sanctuary for meditation, ritual, and communion with spirit. Every sprouting seed is seen as an act of magic, every bloom a sign of life’s resilience. By honoring the beauty of the garden, we affirm our place within the circle of creation and our responsibility as caretakers of the earth.
Concluding Thoughts
Whether your garden is wild and rambling, a window box of herbs, or a patch of tended vegetables, its beauty is a reflection of the cycles and mysteries celebrated in Wicca. By pausing to offer thanks, you align yourself with the sacred rhythm of nature, drawing peace and inspiration from the living world.
So as you walk among the blossoms, breathe in the scent of green life, or simply gaze upon the dance of sunlight and shadow, let your heart speak gratitude. The garden will listen—and the earth will answer in kind.
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I love it. I’m so happy that you’ve decided on your witch’s name, and so proud of you for saying it! 
Congratulations, Sister! 
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Beautiful, Jayne! 
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That is beautiful!
@georgia I hope that maintenance are mindful when they come to pick up your “overnight delivery” and not trash your seasonal display in the process.
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CHALLENGE ENTRY - Magickal Traditions & Pagan Paths
It’s when I’m in the kitchen that I draw on magickal traditions the most. Herbs, spices, vegetables - all have medicinal and spiritual properties that I love to infuse in my cooking.
Also, I only recently discovered the joys of the simmer pot, which not only allowed me to use the magickal properties of rosemary, but I was able to use cinnamon sticks and nutmeg, as well - the spices were wonderful as aromatics and infused the whole house with their wonderful smells and magickal properties.
I can’t recall a time, as an adult with a home of my own, where I didn’t have herbs growing - either in pots on the back patio, or in the ground. Establishing my herb garden is one of the first things I do when I’ve had occasion to move to a new home.
I routinely grow basil, parsley, oregano, thyme, mint, and rosemary - and sometimes will add others as I find them at a local nursery. But the above six are my constant go-to herbs in the kitchen and my practice.
Whether roasting meats, fish or poultry, in addition to preparing vegetable dishes, I have grown used to the simple joy of being able to walk into a sun room (in winter months) or step right outside my door (summer months) to snip off the various herbs I need. In the winter I bring my pots inside to the sun room, where it can get a little crowded.
Herbs also come into play when I interact with Nature. My parsley plants are a natural host for the Black Swallowtail who always seem to show up in my back yard. I’m delighted to find their eggs, then the tiny caterpillars, and follow their progress until I get them into the safety of my mesh butterfly cage to protect them from being consumed by other wildlife.
Sometimes the caterpillars pupate right onto the herbs. This picture shows a Black Swallowtail chrysalis hanging from a parsley plant.
Herbs are embedded in all kinds of ways in my practice. They are in the foods I prepare and help me care for and interact with my vulnerable backyard visitors.
Here I am, releasing a Black Swallowtail to the wild. It’s always a magickal moment!
Working with plants and especially with herbs has become a large part of my path as a Pagan. I am only recently realizing that it’s simply part of who I am, even when I didn’t have a name for it.
I love working with plants and herbs, both in my kitchen and outdoors to benefit wildlife. Not only does this part of my practice keep me close to the natural world, it keeps me mindful of how connected we all are. 
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@Eira_of_the_Living_Hearth Eira of the Living Hearth is a beautiful name! You did an awesome job on all of your entries.
@georgia I love your rainbow Yule tree!
@Greenbriar your roses are beautiful!!!
@Feathertip thank you for sharing all of your beautiful pictures!
I have been looking over the past challenges and looking at my badges to figure out if I have done them or not. I have found several that I don’t remember doing then I go back and see my post on it. It’s like going down memory lane for the last 4 years.
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@Ostara @Greenbriar @Feathertip Thank you, beautiful ladies! I appreciate you!
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Wonderful entry! I love working with plants too, and being close to the natural world, but I do not like cooking. In fact, my wonderful hubby does the cooking in our house (he started when I used to work downtown and not get home till gone 7 pm and he got sick of waiting for me to cook dinner. And when I retired he was happy to keep on doing it)
I get excited too, when I see caterpillars on my herbs and know that I am doing my bit for the local wildlife.
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@Ostara - You’re welcome, lovely!
@Greenbriar - your husband sounds like a sweetheart! My hubby likes to cook, too - he’s great on the grill, which I’ve never had much interest in, so it works out great.
It’s such a wonderful sight, isn’t it? Every little thing we can do to help them makes my heart sing! 
With you in the deep Southern heat and me in the frozen tundra, we have them covered on both ends. 
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My seasonal display is down. The bag was full of clean clothes, so heavy a 15 year old boy had trouble lifting it, and this kid’s strong. He was kind enough to reseal my patio door for me.
For the 13 Days of Holiday Celebrations challenge, I wanted to honor the lights of the city. We went out and enjoyed 5 major and several minor decorated homes in town. My driver stopped for each one, and I opened my window to get the best possible pics. I guess I’m shaky. Got home, and the pics I took were all fuzzy.
Alert: long post. Many of these are similar to last year’s pics, but of much lower quality.
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Thank you!
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One week to go!
It’s a menagerie of magick in the forum - what a treat to see which challenges everyone chooses and watch your spellwork come to life! Thank you so much to everyone who has tackled a challenge (or two, or three, etc!) 
Great work!
For those still pondering about the theme, rest assured that plenty of time remains on the challenge clock. There is one more week until this challenge closes.
Looking forward to reading your entries!
Blessed be 
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