Three sprigs of fresh rosemary grabbed from the plant. A thumb-sized piece of ginger. A bunch of peppercorns, thrown in, whole.

As I grab the wooden spoon to stir my steaming pot of beans…

I smile.

Look at me, I think. All witch-like.

Stirring my cauldron of healing magic. Mixing up today’s concoction.

A pinch of this, a handful of that.

For nourishment. For warmth. For pleasure.

My ability to cook was learned as an adult. Taught to me by other humans who already knew how. Gathered from here and there. East and West.

The skill to nourish myself with food gives me freedom and power. And it provides an outlet for my creativity that makes more than it takes. Generates abundance.

What magic.

Simple, too. For when my choices are limited, by eating what’s seasonal, affordable, and available in my garden… the more creative I get. And the healthier my eating becomes.

What a world.

As I cook my dinner… alchemizing nature’s bounty… turning sunlight and water and seeds… into nourishment that warms, soothes, heals…

I think… maybe I am a witch after all.

Tonight that thought makes me smile.

I feel proud.