Between 3 Witches - Witchcraft in plain sight
Aug 29, 2026 · 15 min · 8 segments
BROOMS, BESOMS & HOME PROTECTION 🧹 In this episode, Vikkie, The Wheelie Green Witch, sweeps us into the fascinating history and magic of the witch’s broom. But the broom has always been far more…
Hello, it's Vicki, the Wheelie Green Witch, and welcome back to another Words from Witches.
Today, it's with me.
Come on in.
Now, I made a coffee about 20 minutes ago, and while I was sat there, I spotted the kitchen floor needed sweeping, which made me think about besoms or brooms.
So today, I thought we'd spend a little bit of time with one of the oldest, simplest, and probably most misunderstood objects associated with witchcraft, the humble broom.
Now, if I say the word witch, most people probably picture somebody flying across the moon on one.
I'd probably settle for one that would probably reach the cobwebs without me having to balance precariously on my chair.
Although, if anyone does invent one that's desperately magic and folds the washing and remembers where I've left my glasses, please let me know.
Historically, though, the broom wasn't mysterious.
It wasn't glamorous, and it certainly wasn't sold as part of a magical starter kit.
It was simply a broom, and every household needed one.
Floors became dirty, ash gathered around the hearth, mud came in from the outside, animals wandered around where they really shouldn't.
Children somehow managed to bring half the countryside indoors.
Some things never really change.
People made brooms from whatever grew locally: birch, heather, broom, hazel.
Bundles of twigs tied carefully together because they needed something practical, and no one was making them because they thought they'd become an icon of witchcraft hundreds of years later.
They were simply making something useful, a tool.
And you know, I think that's what I love most about folk craft.
It's the things we call magical now often began life simply because, you know, they needed to get through another ordinary day.
And I've often wondered how many conversations happened while someone was sweeping a floor.
Conversation and news shared over a day's work, bread proving quietly beside the fire, babies rocked to sleep, children chasing one another through the house, someone wondering whether the harvest would last another winter.
Someone would be grieving, someone celebrating, someone simply getting on with another Tuesday.
And the broom, that would've been there through everyday life, through all of it, not as some enchanted object, just simply part of the rhythm of everyday life.
And sometimes, I think that ordinary things become extraordinary simply because they quietly witness so much of our lives.
Hello, it's Vicki, the Wheelie Green Witch, and welcome back to another Words from Witches.
Today, it's with me.
Come on in.
Now, I made a coffee about 20 minutes ago, and while I was sat there, I spotted the kitchen floor needed sweeping, which made me think about besoms or brooms.
So today, I thought we'd spend a little bit of time with one of the oldest, simplest, and probably most misunderstood objects associated with witchcraft, the humble broom.
Now, if I say the word witch, most people probably picture somebody flying across the moon on one.
I'd probably settle for one that would probably reach the cobwebs without me having to balance precariously on my chair.
Although, if anyone does invent one that's desperately magic and folds the washing and remembers where I've left my glasses, please let me know.
Historically, though, the broom wasn't mysterious.
It wasn't glamorous, and it certainly wasn't sold as part of a magical starter kit.
It was simply a broom, and every household needed one.
Floors became dirty, ash gathered around the hearth, mud came in from the outside, animals wandered around where they really shouldn't.
Children somehow managed to bring half the countryside indoors.
Some things never really change.
People made brooms from whatever grew locally: birch, heather, broom, hazel.
Bundles of twigs tied carefully together because they needed something practical, and no one was making them because they thought they'd become an icon of witchcraft hundreds of years later.
They were simply making something useful, a tool.
And you know, I think that's what I love most about folk craft.
It's the things we call magical now often began life simply because, you know, they needed to get through another ordinary day.
And I've often wondered how many conversations happened while someone was sweeping a floor.
Conversation and news shared over a day's work, bread proving quietly beside the fire, babies rocked to sleep, children chasing one another through the house, someone wondering whether the harvest would last another winter.
Someone would be grieving, someone celebrating, someone simply getting on with another Tuesday.
And the broom, that would've been there through everyday life, through all of it, not as some enchanted object, just simply part of the rhythm of everyday life.
And sometimes, I think that ordinary things become extraordinary simply because they quietly witness so much of our lives.
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