Magick isn’t just about casting spells and dancing naked under the full moon. Magick is all around us. The beach is magickal. A sunset, too. And what about the fact that some delicious fruits of a vine can become a beverage so magickal that it’s even revered by the Catholic Church and called the “blood of Christ”?
I won’t get into the hypocrisy of organized religion with this post. That’s for another time. Today I will write about a truly magickal experience which I had this past Fall in Galicia, Spain, thanks to my great-aunt’s guidance.
The people of this region all have some grape vines on their land and each Fall they harvest the grapes and make wine. Now...this isn’t wine for snobs. It’s what I like to call peasant house wine and, while maybe not up to a typical sommelier’s standards, I happen to find it delicious. And so do the local villagers.
First we harvested the grapes. In the pic above you see some white grapes which we later mixed with red. I personally harvested and trimmed all of the grapes which we used. It’s actually some pretty dirty work but...it’s worth it. And the experience was made that much better by the careful guidance (and bonding with) my 87 year old great-aunt...whom I hadn’t seen in almost 34 years.
Then it was time for the fun part - stomping! I put on a brand new pair of rubber boots and stomped the ever-lovin’ Hell out of those grapes. I actually had a blast, dancing and singing and stomping and, occasionally, almost slipping and cracking my skull 💀.
The next step was to grab a bucket, scoop the juice, stems, and skins, and empty it into one of the handful of barrels (which our only neighbor said were the best barrels in the village). Again, a messy endeavor but worth every second.
Barrel filled, we fast-forward to early December when it was time to taste and make sure that we didn’t unintentionally make vinegar and...success! Call it alchemy or chemistry or...magick. But the end result was a truly delicious and organic vino tinto, which I indulged in for both lunch and dinner almost every day until moving to Ireland almost a month ago. And, boy, do I wish I would have remembered to pack some bottles and bring with me.
