The Magic Birch Tree

Long, long ago on an early winter's day an old old herbwoman died and was buried in the forest outside the village by her old old woman friends. The woman's daughter, who had left the village many years before to see something of the world, returned upon hearing of her mother's death. In her grief, the daughter walked the path into the forest in search of her mother's grave. A familiar voice called from the distance, "Eloise!" (for that was the daughter's name). Eloise peered through the trees toward the voice and saw seven planets aligned with a crescent moon setting over a ring of birch trees shimmering ghostly in the glow. Eloise rushed to the grove and entered into it.

In the middle of the grove, a circle of birch bark floated on a pool of water. Eloise knelt on the soft mossy bank and gazed into the water within the birch ring. There she saw her mother's smiling face. "Oh Mother," Eloise cried, "I've missed you so!"

Her mother replied, "Eloise, my daughter, when I died, I was buried here within this grove and became a birch tree as have all the wise women before me. Look behind you to see me as I am today."

Eloise turned to see a birch tree wave her branches gracefully though there was no wind. Eloise ran crying to her mother and sank to the forest floor, leaning against the smooth bark of the tree.

Her mother began to speak soothingly to Eloise the magic of the birch tree. "I am the tree of beginning and birth. I bring protection for all. Pots, dishes and cups made from my wood never empty of food and drink. I am the tree of the first new moon each lunar year. I am Beth, the Lady of the Woods."

"Mother," Eloise implored, "what can be done for me? I am alone and have no child to love and cherish." Beth looked lovingly upon her daughter and lowered her branches to hold Eloise safe and warm.

"Take one of my branches, daughter, to our cottage and with it fashion a cradle. Build a fire in the hearth with the chips and scraps and place the cradle near the fire. Lie then down upon the hearth rug to sleep and we shall see what we shall see."

Eloise returned home and did all her mother told her. When she woke in the morning, her belly began to swell, her breasts became full and tender.

By and by, a baby was born to Eloise, a daughter, whom she named Samara. Samara brought great joy to Eloise and grew in the knowledge of the forest plants and animals.

Eloise and Samara returned to the birch grove many times every year for the comfort and abundant gifts the mother birch bestowed upon them.

Sap, the blood of the trees, did Eloise and Samara gather each late winter to boil down for mineral rich syrup. The roof of their tiny cottage was well shingled with birch bark. The leaves they gathered and steeped in vinegar and drank as tea. Samara delighted in making a new birch broom each year from twigs bound around a stout branch.

Many years passed. Samara grew into a strong and self-reliant woman. Eloise grew old and as happens to us all, died and was buried next to her mother in the birch grove.

In her grief, Samara walked the well-worn path to the birch grove seeking comfort and solace. A familiar voice called to her, her mother's voice, calling..."Samara."