After years of pondering, Byron Ballard has finally written a primer for the kind of magic she practices. Driven to it by colleagues, friends and students, writing this little book is an act of stubborn devotion to a fading culture. This deceptively simple system of folk magic has come down to modern Southern culture through the immigrants and natives who called these blue hills home. Written in an easily accessible style and filled with insights and stories, Staubs and Ditchwater: a Friendly and Useful Introduction to Hillfolks Hoodoo is part memoir, part workbook.
This is a great start and introduction to Appalachian magic. There is a lot of info in here but left me wanting more. I'm from Northeast Tennesse so I'm familiar with most of this. I will definitely read her other books. I love the way she writes, like we are sitting on the porch, just talking about all this stuff.
This was a interesting and reflective reading for me. Like I said to a witchy friend, it kind of reminds me to curanderismo (I know it is obviously not the same) and I love the being in touch with nature mentioned. I hope I'll be able to adapt some of the receipts the author mention in my practice.
Over the past forty years of study, I have read hundreds of books on the subject of folklore and how folks connect to and weave energy, it is rare to find an author who lives her craft with the ethical commitment to keeping it real that Ms. Ballard exhibits. Satubs and Ditchwater is a “stick your toe in” introduction to Hillfolk Hoodoo, just as the title indicates, it is not, nor does it claim to be a complete compendium of the subject matter. It is a solid foundation, in a sea of literature that is mostly fluff and stuff. Competent teachers begin with foundational instruction and move forward as the student moves in equal measure. Ms. Ballard is nothing if not competent. Serious students are not put off by a bit of gentle remediation and those who are not serious should not bother.
I loved this book. I wanted to be furious because I paid 20 bucks for it and it's only like a 100 pages max. But I just can't get angry about it because I enjoyed it too much -- I'm a child of Appalachia myself and Ballard reminds me too much of being home. She is an excellent story-teller and reminds me of my own Mama while she blesses us with her earthy knowledge and expertise. I highly recommend. A great read -- it's just a little too short but that doesn't negate an ounce from the charm.
As someone who is the first generation to live my entire life in these mountains, and who was raised by a mountain village of neighbors and church members for most of my childhood, this book gave me a sense of deeper connection with the roots of this land. I am grateful for the blend of practical knowledge, anecdotes that remind me of my own upbringing, and historical context that give this book a well rounded take on the subject of mountain folk magic.
I enjoyed the book but found I wanted more information on how to use the tools and how to practice. The stories of her life were very interesting, not what I was expecting of the book but did keep my attention.
I first reviewed Staubs and Ditchwater years ago, and returning to it now is interesting because the landscape around Appalachian folk magic has changed considerably since this little book first appeared. There are far more books, conversations, and resources available now, but I think that actually makes me appreciate what H. Byron Ballard was doing here even more.
This is a small book about small magic, and I mean that as one of the highest compliments I can give it. There is very little of the ceremonial grandeur or elaborate metaphysics that occultists sometimes mistake for sophistication. Instead, there are weeds growing around the house, jars saved because they might be useful, strange kinds of water, weather signs, ancestors, neighbors, bits of wood, household objects, and generations of accumulated knowledge about what to do when something needs doing.
That practicality reveals something important about folk magic itself. These practices weren't necessarily developed by people with the money to order exotic ingredients or assemble perfectly coordinated ritual tools, and they weren't always understood as participation in some separate religion called Witchcraft. Magic could simply be another collection of skills within ordinary life, alongside gardening, cooking, healing, preserving food, predicting weather, caring for family, and knowing the peculiarities of the land around you.
One of my favorite things in the book remains Ballard's discussion of different kinds of water. Ditchwater, stump water, storm water, snow water, and other waters aren't interchangeable simply because they're all H2O; where water has been, what has happened to it, and the condition in which you encounter it become part of its magical character. That is folk magical thinking at its best because correspondence emerges from observation and relationship rather than an arbitrary list somebody memorized.
The same principle appears in Ballard's approach to omens. If you're going to interpret the appearance of an animal, plant, weather event, or other occurrence as significant, you first need to know what is normal where you actually live. A strange event can only be recognized as strange when you understand the environment in which it occurs, which means that becoming a better magical practitioner also requires becoming more attentive to your own land.
I think that emphasis on place is one reason Staubs and Ditchwater has held up so well. Appalachian folk magic isn't presented as a collection of aesthetic ingredients that can be detached from Appalachia and turned into another correspondence system. Ballard continually brings the material back to family, poverty, resourcefulness, landscape, inherited customs, religion, memory, and the particular circumstances that allowed these practices to develop.
The terminology in the subtitle is also worth understanding in context. Ballard herself acknowledges the problems with calling this material “hoodoo” and distinguishes what she practices from African American Hoodoo, explaining that she needed language through which a modern audience could recognize a body of practices that historically didn't necessarily have a convenient name. I appreciate that clarification because names matter, especially when discussing folk traditions whose histories overlap without being interchangeable.
What makes the book particularly charming, though, is that none of this feels like an academic ethnography written from a safe distance. Ballard is telling stories about a culture she belongs to and practices she has lived with, so memoir, instruction, folklore, humor, and personal recollection continually bleed into one another. It feels less like being handed a standardized curriculum and more like sitting with someone who keeps remembering one more thing she ought to tell you before you leave.
Staubs and Ditchwater is intentionally introductory, and its brevity inevitably leaves you wanting more. But after revisiting it, I don't think comprehensiveness was ever really the point. The book is preserving a way of approaching magic in which knowledge grows from intimacy with place, practical necessity, inherited wisdom, observation, and the willingness to make use of whatever happens to be at hand.
Years after my first reading, that's what stands out to me most strongly. Folk magic isn't powerful because it is primitive, quaint, secret, or aesthetically rustic; it is powerful because generations of people learned to pay very close attention to the world immediately around them and discovered ways of working within it. Staubs and Ditchwater preserves some of that knowledge while quietly encouraging us to become attentive enough to our own surroundings that we might learn how to do the same.
As a practicing Pagan, I often find it difficult to purchase books that are not stuffed full of information I already know and practice.
Refreshingly, this was not the case with Staubs and Ditchwater Hillfolk's Hoodoo book.
Granted there was some information I knew but there was a lot more that I didn't such as the different kinds of water to use for spellwork -from ditch water to freshly melted snow to storm water.
Also a great description of the magical uses of everyday common "weeds" that grow in most everyone's backyard. I am in Kentucky so my land shares a lot of the same weeds and grasses that Ballard's does.
All in all, well worth the read and information I will be referring back to time and time again.
Ballard calls her practice "down-home witchcraft that is simple and effective. Something that comes naturally and uses materials at hand. It is based on generations of living close to the land and being poor and making do. We know from anthropological studies that witchcraft is cross-cultural and is the practice of peasant medicine and psychology.... What is hillfolks' hoodoo - the kind that's practiced in the southern Highlands of Appalachia? It's medicine and midwifery; it's omen-reading and weather working. Sometimes it requires the witch to have a listening ear and an open heart." (xiii-xv) Ballard's webpage: https://www.myvillagewitch.com/
This is a nice introductory book on practices from Appalachian grannies. I am doing some research about the topic, and many articles mentioned Ballard, so I decided to get this book. I think I have a general idea of the local practices, mainly inherited wisdom, and working with the elements (materials) that are at hand as well as following your own intuition. I really enjoyed her writing, and her story-telling tone. This book is easily read in a day.
Regardless of your local background this lovely book will offer something to a practitioner, emphasizing a connection to place via the authors own experience this book reads like a series of visits over tea with an old friend. I loved it.
I loved the accessible tone of this book, the clear guidance and the humour made it a fun read as well as being packed with practical tips and receipts for everyday life. Highly recommended.
Short and sweet! It was like a conversation with a good friend you don’t want to end. It was interesting to read about these customs and workings and I may try some out.
A wonderful homage to the folk magic of the Southern Appalachians. This friendly memoir/how-to/history lesson is a fascinating insight to a culture that thrives despite the challenges of postmodernity and religious fanaticism. Sit a spell for a cuppa with Ms. Ballard and see the world in a new way, through an ancient lens.
You may have to wait a while for my review. I want to have a long, quite space in my life before I read this. Even a short quiet space would be nice :-)