When the Hills Begin to Hum

Walpurgis Night is celebrated from the dusk of 30 April until dawn breaks on the 1st of May.

It is a night stitched into the bones of Europe — ancient, restless, and humming with power.

Once a pagan spring festival, it has become the witches’ sabbat, the elves’ delight, the soul’s awakening.

Since time beyond memory, this night has marked a turning —

from dark to light,

from silence to song,

from winter’s hush to spring’s crescendo.

It is a time to cleanse what clings too tightly,

to whisper wishes to fire,

to call in love, beauty, and dreams that might dare to come true.

People light bonfires on hills and valleys — not to destroy, but to purify.

They gather for dances, games, and the merry roar of firecrackers.

Laughter mixes with smoke, and the night becomes a breathing thing.

Spell of Desire

By ash of night and root of spring,

Let every hidden hope take wing.

Where fire lives and shadows fall,

Let dreams be heard and grant their call.

The Feast of Witches and the Country of Elves

The witches are said to gather high in the mountains —

most famously atop the Brocken, Germany’s mist-veiled peak —

arriving on brooms, pitchforks, or goats,

to sing with shadows, dance with demons, and brew potions that stir the fate of seasons.

As they burn a straw effigy of the old witch —

a symbol of all that must be shed —

the people below circle homes with torches,

ring bells to scatter darkness,

and laugh loud enough to shake off fear.

But it is not only witches who wake.

The elves, ever watchful from the edge of things,

slip softly from their world into ours.

On this night, they dance barefoot in dew-covered glades,

tangle flowers into each other’s hair,

and bless those whose hearts still believe in wonder.

They say if you leave out honey or milk by your door,

the elves will keep your home safe all year.

But beware — don’t spy on them.

Elves loathe being watched more than the wind loathes a cage.

Chant of the Elves

We dance where mortals do not tread,

By silver root and blossom red.

A gift we give, a curse we leave —

For those who doubt, and those who grieve.

The Magic of Fire and Herb

Herbs gathered on this night hold miraculous power,

just like on the midsummer eve of Ivan Kupala.

Mugwort, vervain, and yarrow shimmer with unseen light,

and if picked with a quiet heart, may heal more than the body.

Use them to make charms, teas, or sleep sachets,

but never cut them without thanking the Earth.

On this night, you’re not just gathering plants.

You’re gathering old spirits in green coats.

What Must Not Be Done

Even in celebration, Walpurgis Night asks for reverence.

It’s not a time for thoughtless noise or careless hands.

There are things that bring bad luck if done this night —

not out of superstition, but because the world is awake, and watching.

Don’t go on a long journey — this is a night to stay close to earth, to hearth, to home.

Don’t overeat — let the body stay light for dreaming.

Don’t stare too long in the mirror — reflection is a portal. You may see something… or someone… else.

Don’t wear all black — spirits may mistake you for one of their own.

Don’t bake or buy bread in the evening — bread is life, and life should not be disturbed after dark.

Don’t leave your broom out — it may invite the wrong kind of traveller.

Don’t tell your dreams — keep them folded, they’re still becoming real.

Don’t wear clothes that carry sorrow — they hold memories that stir restless spirits.

White Whisper – Ward Off the Wild

Candle burn and salt be still,

Let not the dark come near by will.

By leaf and flame, by song and stone,

Let this house be shielded, safe and known.

The Corridor of Time

As midnight creeps across the sky,

you may wish to glimpse the threads of fate.

Dress in silver, violet, or blue — colours that open inner sight.

Arrange four small mirrors, each facing another,

with three candles flickering in front of them.

Sit quietly. Breathe slowly. Gaze into the layered reflections.

Let the light deepen. Let thought blur.

If done with a calm mind, a vision may come —

a face, a place, a symbol yet to unfold.

This is the Corridor of Time,

where the soul walks forward while the body waits behind.

Mirror Spell

Four gates of glass, three flames align,

Through mirrored halls I slip through time.

Let not the fear disturb the stream,

Reveal to me what I must dream.

The Wishing Fire

You have dreams.

So write them down — but not in ink.

Use a piece of ribbon or parchment.

Write your desire clearly, then fold it with care.

Burn it gently in the fire, or tie it to a blossoming tree.

To the flame I give my want,

Not with hunger, but with hope.

Let the smoke rise — and the answer find me.

Money Spell for Moon’s First Minute

At the very first minute past midnight,

you may call in wealth —

not greed, but growth.

You will need:

One gold candle (for Jupiter)

Six green candles (for growth)

Nine white candles (for clarity and blessing)

A pinch of salt

Pine essential oil

Arrange the candles in three rings: gold at centre, green around it, white on the outside.

Sprinkle salt in a quiet circle around the whites.

Light the gold candle first, then the greens clockwise, then the whites.

Walk around them three times, softly chanting:

Three times Jupiter rides the sun,

Three times gold and green shall run,

From root to roof, from hand to heart,

Let fortune rise and never part.

Snuff out the candles in reverse order, and do not speak again for one full minute.

Beauty, Love, and the Wreath of Ivy

On Walpurgis Night, the veil lifts not only between worlds —

but between your reflection and the beauty you long to become.

Before the sun rises on May 1st, go out and find morning dew.

Wash your face and hands in it. Do not speak as you do.

Let the dew speak blessings into your skin.

For those who seek love or wish to renew their glow,

gather ivy twigs by moonlight.

Weave them into a simple wreath and wear it gently on your head.

The ivy will hold the magic for one year.

Wear it again only when you need to feel loved by the world.

Spell of Beauty and Heart

Ivy bright and dew-born skin,

Let love and light now dwell within.

No mirror needed, no false disguise,

Let beauty bloom beneath my eyes.

Herb Lore and Healing Hands

The earth is awake tonight.

The roots remember.

Herbs picked on Walpurgis Night are said to sing —

softly, yes, but only to those who pick them with purpose.

If you seek healing, gather:

Yarrow for protection

Mugwort for dreams

Vervain for love

Chamomile for peace

Always ask before picking.

Always thank the plant aloud.

Dry them in moonlight. Use them wisely. These are not mere leaves, but spells shaped by sunlight and soil.

The Elves Return Home

As dawn nears, the elves slip back to their realm —

leaving footprints in soft moss and petals out of place.

If you wake to find a spoon turned, a door ajar, a candle half-burnt —

perhaps they visited.

Those who left honey, milk, or sweet bread by the window

may find unexpected blessings:

a problem vanished, a wish gently granted, a calm heart where there was once unrest.

But mind this well:

Never mock the unseen.

Elves are kind, yes — but never tame.

Chant for the Kindly Folk

To those who walk where we do not,

A gift, a peace, a thank-you thought.

No trick, no trap, no debt to bind —

Just trust between your world and mine.

Feast of the Night

As the fire dies down, the feasting begins.

The sabbath table, real or imagined, groans with warmth:

Cabbage soup with smoked lard Oatmeal and cow’s milk

Stewed mushrooms with spinach and potatoes

Broth and warm pies — with fillings of egg and rice, or crayfish, or wild mushrooms

The sacred fish: gravlax, cured in salt, sugar and dill, then eaten near flame or hearth

These foods were once buried in sand or slow-baked by firelight —

symbols of patience, preservation, and trust in time.

To cook or eat these foods on this night is to honour the old ways —

to feed not only the body, but the spirit within it.

The Prayer of Protection – Saint Walburga’s Blessing

And when all is quiet again — when the candles have flickered to stubs

and the last ember turns gold and grey —

you may kneel by your window and pray.

Saint Walburga, daughter of dawn and shield of the soul,

Walk with me through this thin-breathed night.

Banish what means harm.

Guard my home, my heart, my kin.

Bless my steps, my health, my love.

And teach me to be better than I was.

Amen.

The Closing of the Night

By sunrise, the spell is sealed.

Ash drifts in the garden. The mirror is veiled again.

The dew has vanished into the roots.

But something in you has shifted —

a flicker of knowing, a spark of change.

What was called has heard you.

What you dared to dream has begun to stir.

Sleep now.

And when you wake —

watch what blooms.