Content
Skip to Main ContentAccessibility Help
New Brunswick·Ann's Eye

Join an elder and her granddaughter as they spend a day braiding sweetgrass

In Ann Paul’s family, the sweetgrass song is blood memory.

Ann Paul’s family has been braiding sweetgrass for generations

CBC News ·
A young woman with dark hair and an older woman stand together outside, holding up braids of green sweetgrass.
Ann’s daughter Autumn spent a day braiding sweetgrass with her grandmother and Ann’s mother, Elder Maggie Paul. (Ann Paul/CBC)

This is part of a series called Ann's Eye, featuring the work of Ann Paul, a Wolastoqey content creator. You can see more Ann's Eye pieces by clicking here.

In Ann Paul's family, the sweetgrass song is blood memory.

Ann remembers the song from her own grandmother Annie's kitchen, where her uncle made a chair especially for braiding. 

"When she was braiding it, it would make music. It was a sweetgrass song," Paul said.

WATCH | See how strands of sweetgrass become a braid: 

Ann's Eye: How braiding sweetgrass connects the generations

2 years ago
Duration 1:50
Sweetgrass grows wild, and its uses are sacred. Watch Elder Maggie Paul and her granddaughter braid it.

Years later, Paul's own daughter was out picking sweetgrass. The people she was with asked her questions, and she realized she could answer them — she had all this knowledge of sweetgrass she didn't realize she possessed.

"Honey, you realize you come from a long line of sweetgrass women," Ann told her over the phone.

Scroll through the photos and watch the video to see some of the sweetgrass women in Ann's family spend a day braiding. 

An older woman with a beige t-shirt stands with her back turned to the camera. She holds a braid of green sweetgrass. A younger woman wearing a green skirt and white t-shirt holds the other end of the braid, smiling.
Ann Paul’s grandmother braided sweetgrass one strand at a time. ‘She would braid it for basket makers. She would do yards and yards of this just so that she could provide food for her family,’ Ann said. (Ann Paul/CBC)
Old, wrinkled hands and young, smoother hands clutch strands of grass, holding them mid-braid.
Sweetgrass grows wild, but it’s tradition is to never take more than you need, always leaving some for future generations. Before braiding the grass, you have to wet it so it’s supple enough to weave without breaking. (Ann Paul/CBC)
Three tied-off braids of sweetgrass, resembling mini-brooms, are laid across a wooden table.
Autumn is training to become a doula. These sweetgrass brooms, used in doula bundles, are used to fan newborn babies as they come into the world. (Ann Paul/CBC)
A young woman and an old woman stand in a kitchen, each holding the end of braided green grass.
The very act of braiding sweetgrass can bring people together. One person holds the grass from one end, while the other person braids. Larger chunks of sweetgrass can be used for smudging. ‘To purify our minds, purify our eyes so we see good things and say good things,’ said Ann. (Ann Paul/CBC)

Ann's Eye

Photographer Ann Paul brings an Indigenous lens to stories from First Nations communities across New Brunswick. Click here or on the image below to see more of her work. 

CBC's Journalistic Standards and Practices·About CBC News
Corrections and clarifications·Submit a news tip·

Related Stories