I want to share with you an experience I had last week.

I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m not particularly green fingered but this year I’ve made more of an effort to get to know plants. I’ve got some lavender growing and I saved a dying rose bush from the supermarket bin (both are still alive).

The biggest step in my plant learning has been a plant identification app on my phone. It’s become my guide when I go for a walk and then I take the time to learn more about the plant when I get home.

The first plant I identified was wormwood growing by the sea.

Coincidentally, I’d been working with wormwood for a little while when I stumbled on this lonely plant near the shingles. Since then, I’ve found it growing in many places locally.

Last Wednesday night, I had a dream of a big wormwood plant explaining the dream that I was having (I often have complicated dreams). It told me it puts ‘fire in the belly’. When I woke up, I scribbled down my dream and paid particular attention to the wormwood plant… big plant, almost as tall as me, located in a disused car park.

Thursday morning, on the way to drop my daughter at the ferry, we passed a car park on the beach road that I’d never noticed before so my husband and I stopped on our way back.

The car park was separated into two: a maintained parking area and a larger, disused car park that had become overgrown. The unloved car park was between the sea and the official car park – a liminal space. A place of magic.

And there was my wormwood.

The big, almost as tall as me, plant that had been talking to me during that night. Exactly as I remembered and had written down in my journal.

I’ve had prophetic dreams before (usually involving transportation accidents) but never have I had such an experience that has questioned my perception of reality.

The spirit of wormwood talked to me and gave me a very clear image of where to find the ‘big’ plant. How did it know that I’d take the back route to the ferry and notice a car park that I’ve missed in the 11 years I’ve lived here?

It’s made me question how much of life really is free-will and how much is predestined.

The threads are spun when we’re born and maybe the choices we make are the only decisions we would ever make. The life we weave is following a pattern that interconnects with everything (wormwood plants included), clues* are left for us and wherever we end up is exactly where we’re meant to be.

*Clue is an old English word for a ball of thread. I love this connection to the spinning Goddesses.

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