Witch’s Weeding: Letting Go So Love Can Grow

Support doesn't always look like a hug. Sometimes it’s a quiet tug at the root of something that's been taking up space in your soul far too long. Sometimes it’s whispering “Not this anymore,” and letting go, gently and without fanfare.

Weeding is a summer ritual in every garden. It’s also a witch’s work. A quiet magic. A compassionate release.

You don’t need to be brimming with positivity to begin. You just need a little willingness to clear space. Because love, like thyme or wild poppies, needs room to grow..

What Needs Pulling?

After the Wyrt Moon’s fullness and the gratitude it brought, now comes the reckoning. The noticing. A pause at midsummer to see what’s flourishing, and what’s simply taking up room.

In the natural world, weeds aren’t bad. They’re just in the wrong place. In your spiritual landscape, the same holds true. What once protected you may now be choking your light. What once grew fast may now cast too much shadow. What as a witch do you need to weed?

Take a moment. Sit with yourself. What beliefs or behaviours no longer support your becoming? What patterns feel tight, brittle, unnecessary?

This isn’t about judgement. It’s about tending.

Witches Weeding Ritual

You don’t need scissors or smoke. Just intention and presence. But if you’re craving a little witch ritual, try this:

1. Gather Herbs & Weeds

Go outside. Collect one herb that nourishes you, like rosemary for remembrance, or mint for clarity. Then gather a weed that tugs at your attention.

Let the weed represent what needs releasing. Name it.

2. A Bowl of Letting Go

Fill a bowl with water. Gently drop in the weed. Say aloud or whisper, “Thank you for what you were. I no longer need you.”

Place the herb beside the bowl. Breathe in its scent and say, “This is what I welcome now.”

3. Dispose with Care

Pour the water into the earth. Bury the weed, or leave it under a stone. Keep the herb in your home as a reminder of the new growth you’re nurturing.

This is sacred work. Quiet, small, but powerful.

Garden Lessons for the Soul

Plants teach us about timing, softness, and the necessity of endings. You don’t accuse a weed of wrongdoing, you just pull it gently, roots and all, and make space.

The same can be true for the internal landscapes we hold.

It might be a grudge. A fear. A rigid idea about who you should be. Weed it.

It might be someone else’s expectation you’ve worn like a second skin. Weed it.

This is a kind of support we don’t talk about enough, the kind that clears the way for truth, for love, for rest.

You are allowed to clear the soil of your life without apology. You are allowed to make space.

Love isn’t always about adding more. Sometimes it’s subtracting the unnecessary. Honouring the quiet work of your becoming.

Giving your own roots the space to stretch and drink in the sun.

You are growing, even in your stillness.

Especially in your stillness.

Support yourself by releasing what no longer helps you bloom.