PRACTICALLY MAGIC BY MAUREEN SMITH

Prompt: practical magic

​No matter how hard she concentrated, how long she practised or even after falling to her knees, praying to the heavens to help, her magic never matured beyond practical.  To have the ability to summon practical magic was not without its merits – the house was always clean and orderly, dishes done, and laundry hung.  Her meals were adequate if uninspired.  Practical magic had its place but to be able to make a love potion or conjure an effective curse on THAT WOMAN that permitted her spaniel to poop, with abandon and no pick-up, on her side yard, that would be magical.

Standing at her kitchen window looking out over her back garden, she absently tied her hair up into a messy knot.  The remedy for a bad mood was always the garden.  She would take out her agitation on weeds – with grim merriment digging deep in the lawn to pull out dandelions, roots intact – hosing them off and boiling them for tea – it was a start to dispelling a bad mood.

Then gently weeding between the rows of her vegetables – removing chickweed that tried to entwine itself among the welcome, she would enjoy the crunch they added to her salad.

Next, staking and hilling, nurturing, and supporting the plants to produce with abundance.  Her garden was lush, practical magic had some small part to play – she couldn’t summon rain when it was too dry or beckon the sun when the ground was soggy, but she could protect her young peas and strawberries from the birds – settling an invisible net over her garden to repel avian attacks but allowing all pollinators free access.

She shared the abundance of her garden with the grocer in town who identified and in turn shared the bounty with families and seniors who would otherwise find fresh produce priced beyond their means.

She liked the grocer, a man about her age, trim, neat.  He kept his small shop dust-free.  If she had the ability, she thought she might slip a potion into the cold cup of tea always waiting at the side of the antiquated cash register.  She imagined that his apartment above the shop was cozy, but minimal.  The single bed in her mind’s eye gave her pause.

The grocer welcomed her visits, always a large wicker basket full of prime produce, the vegetables perfect, unblemished – like her skin, he mused.  If only he had the ability or energy to cast a spell to make her notice him.  But he exhausted his abilities maintaining his changing signs – so the prices for those in need appeared much reduced than those for higher incomes.

The thing about practical magic was that it recognized its own – even if the sorcerers and witches were sometimes oblivious – and when practical magic saw a practical solution, it doubled its power.
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In the Fall, when the apples came ripe and the harvest was heavy, the gardener and grocer’s hands would meet over the admiration of a perfect apple.

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Maureen Smith is 66 years old and an AWCS Member.