Twelfth Night

Re-posting this piece I wrote in 2009, with a few songs added. Enjoy!

Twelve nights after Christmas, Twelfth Night arrives. It is also called Old Christmas because the holiday was celebrated on January 6th in older times, under a different calendar. More on this later in this post.

photo from the book by Washington Irving, available as an online book at http://openlibrary.org/details/oldchristmas00irviarch

Bill Baker, on his website about Old Christmas, describes some of the beliefs of the Appalachian people about this day:

"Mountain people knew the Day of Epiphany as "Old Christmas". One of their beliefs concerning the Day of Epiphany was that a person should never lend anything to anybody on Old Christmas Day, because the lender would never get it back. Also, they regarded the Eve of Epiphany as a night when the Holy Spirit would manifest Itself upon the earth in many subtle ways. Upon that night, mountain folk believed, that no matter how hard the ground was frozen ... elder bushes would sprout up out of the ground."

I remember celebrating it as "Epiphany" when I was young and my family followed the Catholic customs. Epiphany, my mother explained, meant "baptism." In my reading, the word, of Greek origin, seems to have many meanings--sudden realization, awakening, or manifestation. Under the Julian calendar, this was the day on which Christmas was celebrated.

In Ireland, the day is known as "Little Christmas," or Nollaig Bheag. The men would on this day take on all the household duties for the women, so it was also known as "Women's Christmas." What a great idea! Except, of course, my husband often does my housework when he's laid off and I'm working....I'm blessed every day :-)

Because the Magi brought gifts, my mother also gave us gifts on Little Christmas. Sometimes we also gave each other little gifts like pencils, pieces of bubble gum, etc. With twelve siblings, these little trinkets could make quite a pile by our dinner plates. It was yet another way to extend the happiness and giving of the season.

Twelfth Night is the night that apple trees were wassailed. (What is wassail? Read about it on my blogpost from last year).

The trees were honored by revelers for the good food they provided. Warm wassail was poured over their roots or hung in the branches, and merrymakers circled the trees singing songs.

One song is not only praise, but also a veiled threat:

Apple-tree, apple-tree,

Bear good fruit,

Or down with your top

And up with your root.

Chamber's Book of Days describes the activities this way:

"'In the south hams [villages] of Devonshire, on the eve of the Epiphany, the farmer, attended by his workmen, with a large pitcher of cider, goes to the orchard, and there encircling one of the best bearing trees, they drink the following toast three several times:

Here's to thee, old apple-tree,

Whence thou mayst bud,

and whence thou mayst blow!

And whence thou mayst bear apples enow!

Hats full! caps full!

Bushel—bushel—sacks full,

And my pockets full too! Huzza!

"This done, they return to the house, the doors of which they are sure to find bolted by the females, who, be the weather what it may, are inexorable to all entreaties to open them till some one has guessed at what is on the spit, which is generally some nice little thing, difficult to be hit on, and is the reward of him who first names it. The doors are then thrown open, and the lucky clod-pole receives the tit-bit as his recompense. Some are so superstitious as to believe, that if they neglect this custom, the trees will bear no apples that year." — Gentleman's Magazine, 1791, p. 403.

A modern-day apple tree wassailing can be found on Mara Freeman's blog.

What is considered the "real" twelfth night varies from one place to another. Twelfth night under the Gregorian calendar is January 6th (and it is so listed in Chamber's Book of Days) ; some sources place it on January 11th or 12th; Ireland's Own places it on January 13th. Still others use Old Christmas as the starting day and place it on January 17th.

Robert Herrick described the old way of celebrating Twelfth Night in his poem of the same title, also known as "King and Queen":

Now, now the mirth comes

With the cake full of plums,

Where bean's the king of the sport here;

Beside, we must know

The pea also

Must revel as queen in the court here.

Begin then to choose,

This night, as ye use,

Who shall for the present delight here;

Be a king by the lot,

And who shall not

Be Twelve-day queen for the night here!

Which known, let us make

Joy-sops with the cake;

And let not a man then be seen here,

Who unurged will not drink,

To the base from the brink,

A health to the king and the queen here!

Next crown the bowl full

With gentle lamb's wool,

And sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,

With store of ale, too;

And this ye must do

To make the wassail a swinger.

Give then to the king

And queen, wassailing,

And though with ale ye be wet here,

Yet part ye from hence

As free from offence

As when ye innocent met here.

What Herrick referred to in the first verse (and what the alternate title also refers to) was a cake baked with a bean and pea inside. Whoever got the bean was the king of twelfth night partying, and whoever got the pea was the queen. There are many places online to find the recipe, but this one sounds delicious, and the article's introduction offers more lore about the holiday.

Will you celebrate Old Christmas, Little Christmas, Epiphany, or any other alternate holiday? You could surprise your family with small gifts on January 6th, or perhaps drink a toast to your apple trees on the 11th or 13th. You will extend the good feelings of the holidays and brighten winter with a little more cheer, and who doesn't need that?

To help celebrate this special time, here are two old Appalachian songs, Old Christmas Morning by Dwight Diller of Pocahontas county, WV and a fine preservationist of old mountain music:

and Breaking Up Christmas, featuring one of my favorite bass players, Joe De Jarnette.

Oh the Holly Has a Berry...

Re-posting a post from 2009. I'd forgotten I wrote this one. Enjoy!

Like many people, I like using holly as one of the greens to be used as decoration during the holidays. And like me, I wondered about the folklore and superstitions connected with this prickly plant. And as with many of our Christmas customs, the traditions have roots in ancient cultures, and were incorporated later into Christian and modern celebrations.


My mother always waited until Christmas Eve to bring in the greens, or to "bring in Christmas," as some people say. I thought this was because she didn't want the greens to dry out, and that was probably at least part of the reason. If you have ever tried to use hemlock branches as decoration, for example, you learned the error of your ways quickly, I bet. The needles drop almost as fast as the branches enter the house.


But holly retains its green color and red berries quite well. And the pine boughs we carried in lasted until after Old Christmas too. Today while researching holly, I found perhaps another reason Mom delayed bringing the evergreens into the house: having holly in the house before Christmas Eve or after Twelfth Night could cause quarrels in the family, and a misfortune for every leaf and branch! Goodness, I'd want to avoid that too--although I can see why quarrels might ensue--the dried-out leaves are so prickly that the one who had to remove them was probably not in a good mood for the rest of the day.


In pagan times, there was a ritual of a battle between the Holly King and the Oak King at winter and summer solstice; at winter solstice the Oak King was victorious and at summer solstice the Holly King would be triumphant.


The holly had its place in the Christian tradition too. It was and still is believed by some that the cross was made of hollywood and that the crown of thorns was made with holly. According to this legend, the holly's white berries were turned red by Jesus' blood. The Christianized version of "The Holly and the Ivy" refers to this story:



4. The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas day in the morn. Chorus

5. The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all. Chorus

6. The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown. Chorus

[7. The rising of the sun
And the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing in the choir. Chorus]

One version collected by ballad scholar Cecil Sharp, however, is probably closer to the original song:

Holly hath berries red as any rose,
The forester, the hunter, keep them from the does.
Nay, ivy, nay, it shall not be I wis;
Let holly have the mastery, as the manner is.
Ivy hath berries black as any sloe;
There come the owl and eat him as she go.
Nay, ivy, nay, it shall not be I wis;
Let holly have the mastery, as the manner is.
Holly hath birds a fair full flock,
The nightingale, the popinjay, the gentle laverock.
Nay, ivy, nay, it shall not be I wis;
Let holly have the mastery, as the manner is.

In ancient times, holly was considered "male" and ivy "female." Probably this is because of the winding, supple nature of ivy and the strong, sturdy shape and sharp prickles of the holly.


It's not really surprising that plants that manage to remain green in the winter months would be thought to have special powers. In Wales, it is considered unlucky to pick holly when it has berries, and bringing it into a friend's home could cause death to an inhabitant. Some people collect the berries after the holidays and keep them as good luck charms.


Other superstitions about holly:

• Carry a piece of holly in your pocket and you will never be struck by lightning
• Holly flowers were thought to be able to freeze water.
• Holly wood was believed to control animals, so many whip handles were made from holly
• If you bring a branch with holly berries into the house, it will bring good luck, but for every berry that falls before New Year's a little of the luck will leave.
• The Zoroastrians believed the the sun never cast the holly's shadow
• new babies were sprinkled with water in which holly was soaked to ward off evil spirits (which makes me wonder--holly water=holy water?)
• The Irish believed that decorating with mistletoe and holly in winter kept the fairies happy and won their favor
• Smooth holly brought in for the holidays means the wife will rule the house in the coming year; rough holly means the man will be dominant. (Keep the peace--bring both inside!)
• To cure a child of illness, pass the child through a cleft holly tree

Now, go gather ye holly while ye may (or was that rosebuds?). Just be sure to take it out again before Twelfth Night, don't lose any berries, and don't carry it into your neighbors house and all shouls be well...I think.
Sources:
Trees for Life website
Encyclopedia of Superstition, Folklore and the Occult Sciences of the World by Cora Linn Daniels and C. M. Stevans
The Book of Christmas Folklore by Tristram Potter Coffin
The Winter Solstice: The Sacred Traditions of Christmas by John Matthews
A Book of Christmas by William Sansom
Caer Feddwyd website
Encyclopedia of Superstitions 1949 by Mona A. Radford
The Cottage Smallholder blog
Irish Superstitions for the Christmas Season

Easter Memories

Happy Easter, friends!

Once upon a time, there would have been four or five dozen dyed eggs in my fridge this evening, and baskets of chocolate (and later fruit as the boys got older) all a-waiting on the arrival of the Easter Bunny. Not so these days--I don't even dye eggs anymore--but I remember the excitement of my sons on this holiday, and it still brings a smile.

Today as Larry and I were driving home it suddenly struck me what an odd holiday this is. I mean, decorated eggs, chocolate and bunnies to celebrate the death and resurrection of Christ? Seems ludicrous and yet it's what we do, all across this country and a few others as well. And when I was a child, it all seemed perfectly normal. I loved every minute of it, from the egg hunt to Easter Mass to the candy and the special clothes we wore on this momentous day.

I'm the one in the little navy blue hat and coat, almost 3 yrs old here

 I remember very well my picture hat that I had for quite a few of those Easters. Every year the hats were brought out to have the fake flowers removed and new flowers and ribbons added to "freshen them up," as my mother would say. Our patent leather shoes would get a thorough polishing with vaseline, and we'd have new lace-edged white socks and clean white gloves to wear to church. Crinolines under our spring dresses made them stand out, and we thought we just looked so pretty! Sometimes we even had little handbags to carry, with lacy hankies inside. Often this finery wasn't new; much of it would be hand-me-downs, although I do not know where they were handed down from, especially mine since I was the oldest girl in the family. We didn't mind, anyway--as long as we had new-to-us dresses, new flowers and ribbons on our hats and shiny patent leather shoes, we were happy.

And there would be candy! Candy was not a frequent commodity at our house. We usually had it mainly on the three recognized candyfests: Easter, Halloween and Christmas. Even Valentine's Day did not guarantee sweets. But Easter brought candy and lots and lots of Easter eggs. When we were little, the Easter Bunny dyed the eggs but as we grew the older children were allowed to do it to help out the ol' bunny. Easter Saturday would be a colorful, glorious day in our kitchen as we dunked 10-12 dozen eggs in various colors, finding ways to make beautiful, interesting and sometimes downright ugly colors and patterns.

Mom on Easter, probably in the 1980's. The fence
along the front walk is gone in this photo.

Sunday morning would find us decked out in our Easter outfits and on the way to church, usually for the 9:00am Mass. I always loved the soaring, joyous Easter hymns and the white vestments the priest could finally wear. After church it was time for a big Easter breakfast. Our baskets, I think, were by our places at the table.

You'd think I'd remember something so important as when we got our baskets, but I don't because the egg hunt was the really big excitement. Somehow the eggs were all hidden by that bunny while we ate breakfast. Dad would saunter in, look out the window, and say something like, "Look! There he goes!See his cotton tail?" Then the hunt began, kids scurrying all over the yard searching for the bright orbs and trying to find the prize egg, a plastic one with money inside it.

Dad on Easter, probably the same
year as Mom's photo

We weren't allowed to keep all of the eggs we found though. Many were returned to their cartons, to be made into deviled eggs for dinner and egg salad the next day. I highly resented that. They were my eggs, after all!

As I got older I understood what a financial effort it was for our parents to make this holiday, and all others special, with all the things children learn to expect. It could not have been easy on Dad's lineman salary to provide such treats for so many children, but somehow they always managed. I often think it was their devout faith in God and belief that all would be well in the end that helped them create these miracles for us, year after year.







Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Holiday Cookies!

Yesterday was baking day. Today was cleaning up, putting away, putting up the pumpkin and more work on the booth day. But I promised recipes for the cookies I made, so here they are:

First recipe: Italian Cookies. I got this recipe from a friend and loved making them. These were easy, easy. The only down side was dipping them all in the glaze, since the recipe made about 80 cookies. I mixed these with my KitchenAid mixer and it worked great.

Ingredients: 1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup shortening (I didn't have any so I used all butter)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
4 eggs
3 cups all-purpose flour
5 teaspoons baking powder (yes, 5)
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons anise extract or vanilla or lemon extract.

 Melt the butter and shortening together; then add the sugar and mix well. Add the eggs, beating well after each addition. Mix in the extract. Sift or whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add to the creamed mixture gradually; if the dough is too sticky to roll into a ball in your hand, add a little more flour but remember the dough should be very soft. Roll the dough into small balls (about 3/4-inch diameter or smaller); the cookies raise quite a bit due to all he baking powder. Place the balls on ungreased cookie sheets and bake at 375 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. The cookies should be lightly browned on the bottom but the tops will still be light. Remove from the cookie sheet to a wire cooling rack and let them cool completely before glazing.

Glaze:
2 cups confectioners sugar
2 to 4 tablespoons milk

Mix milk gradually into the sugar to make a thick glaze--you want it to be thick, not runny. Place waxed paper under the cooling racks to catch dripping glaze and scattered sugar or else you'll have a mess.

Dip the top of each cookie in the glaze and sprinkle with colored sugar or your choice of toppings. You will want to dip a few and then sprinkle the sugar as he glaze will harden pretty quickly. Allow to set until the glaze hardens, and store.

Second recipe: Chocolate Orange Shortbread. This is from Better Homes and Gardens Cookie Classics cookbook. Lots of delicious recipes in this book, and this is one that is quick and easy to make.

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour (I like unbleached best)
1/2 cup sifted confectioner's sugar
2/3 cup butter (no substitutes)
3/4 cup miniature semisweet chocolate chips
1/2 to 1 teaspoon finely shredded orange peel (use a zester for best results)
Granulated sugar

In a medium mixing bowl stir together the flour and powdered sugar. Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until the mixture resembles fine crumbs and starts to cling together. (I cheated and used my KitchenAid andit worked just fine--this mixture is pretty stiff and I was tripling the recipe). Stir in the chocolate pieces and orange peel. Form mixture into a ball with your hands ; return to the bowl and knead until smooth.

Shape the dough into 1 1/4" balls. Place balls 2" apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Using the bottom of a glass dipped in granulated sugar, slightly flatten the ball to about a 1/2" thickness. Bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes, just until the bottoms start to brown. Cool on the cookie sheet for one minute before transferring to a wire rack to cool. Makes about 28 cookies.

According to the recipe, these can be packed in a freezer container and stored for up to one month. Just take out of the freezer and thaw in the container for about 15 minutes before serving.

Those were the two I made yesterday, along with the brownie bites. For those, I made my usual recipe but baked them in the small size muffin tins. When they were about 3/4 of the way baked, I added a small chunk of semisweet chocolate in the centers, then let them finish baking. The only problem I had was getting them out of the pans. They really wanted to stick! I used spray cooking oil on the pans, but wonder if butter would have been better. Any suggestions?

So now my cookies are packed and ready for my trip to Virginia this weekend to bake fruitcakes with my sisters. We'll swap (and probably taste-test!) our cookies too. Can't wait for the fun to begin!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Day of Joy, Day of Remembrance

Each holiday brings its challenge. We got through Easter with little difficulty because there were few memories of Jon connected to that holiday for us. Mother's Day, however, loomed large and I wondered how the day might go.

Some of the apprehension disappeared when Jon's wife called to say she and the girls were coming up to spend the weekend with us. This was a real pleasure because we seldom saw Jon's family on Mother's Day; they usually came home on Memorial Day. Then our family reunions began to be held the third weekend of May so it was simpler to get together then. This year would be different, and I welcomed the prospect of having more family around for the holiday.

How did it go? Predictably, there were times that were difficult. Memories of times they'd spent as a family at our house flooded our minds. And yet it was also very good as we talked about our feelings and where we are at this point--our sadness, sense of loss, even anger, frustration, and on top of all that, happiness. Happiness at knowing our family is a good family, strong and supportive, people who can be depended on. Happiness at knowing that Jon is so deeply missed and his memory treasured, and at seeing his daughters working to find their feet and firmly continue on their way, strong on the foundation he built for them with his wife. One continues her volleyball success; another is exploring the world of music; the third is writing, the medium where she finds expression; and the fourth is establishing her own home and family as she looks ahead to completing her nursing degree.

For the adults the road seems to be a little rockier and treacherous. We find ourselves happy and laughing at one moment, in tears the next. We are learning to talk about how we feel even as the tears track steadily down our faces. No one comments on them or feels a need to wipe them away--they are a natural part of this conversation, and their absence might be more noticeable than their presence. This isn't to say the younger generation doesn't have the same level of grief--I know that they do; perhaps it is that we knew him and loved him longer, that our memories reach far back in our lives, that makes our grief more multi-faceted, reflecting joy and regret as well as sadness back at us as we remember his loved face.

Sometimes I find that I avoid saying something because to say it would bring down everyone else at a time when we're all happy and laughing. Sometimes I am appalled at my own choice of words--"that kills me," or "deader than a doughnut." References to death in any offhand remark strike harshly on my ears, even though I know these are commonplace slang expressions and most people don't even think when using them. I'm over-sensitive to songs with lyrics of lost love, to television or movie images of the dead. I cannot look at or hear such things casually any more. I know I am not alone in this; others in my family have mentioned the same sensitivity and the sideways onslaught of grief that can attack at unexpected moments, such as a song on the car radio or over the speakers in a store.

So how was my Mother's Day? After all of the above ruminations, you may be thinking, "Oh poor thing, she must have cried all day!" That is far from the truth. The weekend was one of the best I can remember in many ways, with our little great-granddaughter running round in my kitchen, good food being fixed, long conversations with granddaughters, my sons and my daughters-in-law, driving lessons on a big pickup truck and a standard shift car for a few teenagers (my new gravel now has proud spin-out marks from the take-offs in the standard!), time by the firepit, and a good Saturday morning breakfast at the Downtowner. There was a golf game for some of the adults, music on Saturday night, cake-making on Sunday, a trip to see Jordan's new decks and gravel (a universal expense in Jackson county at this time of year, I think), tomato plants taken to new homes and all of the normal, happy activities of a family get-together.

This milestone passed safely, not without a few tears but with a lot of hugs and laughter. Each time we get together, we heal more. New pain surfaces, but someone is always there to help us over the bad places. There is nothing as good for our souls as being together and remembering the many happy times we had with Jon and with each other in this motley, hardy crew we call family.

Fourth of July, Small Town Style

Ripley, West Virginia holds one of the largest small-town 4th of July celebrations in the United States, and this year was no exception. The day is filled with parades, politicians' speeches, free music and entertainment on the courthouse lawn, and a giant evening fireworks display. We planned to do only part of the festivities this year, choosing instead to focus on family get-togethers. But we did get into town for the 2K race and a few events.

Our day started at the Downtowner for breakfast. I think we filled half of the booths!

My sister Theresa from Virginia holds her great-great-niece Cadyn, while Cadyn's mother, my granddaughter Jordan, looks on. Young aunt Allison is just behind Theresa.

From Reta's antique store, the view of the stage was an interesting juxtaposition of vintage items and band.

Young and old alike enjoyed the music and the activities. The gentleman in the hat was making a balloon dog for the little girl.

Tommy and his girlfriend Anastasia were there to cheer on the family members running in the race. Tommy opted not to run this year. I loved Anastasia's shoes! They were my childhood dream--high stilettos with (sigh) red sequins. Nowadays--absolutely a dream only. I'd kill myself in shoes like that.

Haley is pumped and ready for the race.

All around the courthouse, pick-up groups played bluegrass and old-time music.

Theresa and I headed home before the parade to get the cookout ready. And after that, my camera rested while I cooked, relaxed and talked. We opted not to go back into town for the evening show featuring country music singer Kathy Mattea. The rain set in, the porch was inviting and the conversation too good to leave.

That was our 4th--how was yours?

Run!

This is the second year that family members have participated in the 2K Run-Walk that is held in conjunction with the Ripley Fourth of July celebration. Last year Jared, Derek, Haley and Tommy competed. This year we doubled that number: eight members the family were in the race.

And they're off!
In this photo, Jared is the tallest one with dark hair to the far left, Haley is on the right in purple with Allison in blue beside her and Derek is further back on the right, looking down and wearing black (behind the girl in the white t-shirt and blue shorts). I can't see the rest of them in this picture, I was just snapping as fast as I could and hoping to catch some of them).

My third son, Derek was the first of the family to cross the line, and won second in his age division.

His son Jared wasn't too far behind,

and his daughter Haley was next in the family line-up of finishers.

My fourth son Aaron (in sunglasses), who hadn't trained at all for this, was the fourth family finisher,

followed by my brother-in-law Jay, who was running as an incentive to get Derek to quit smoking! It was a bet they made last year--Jay said if he ran and beat Derek that Derek would have to quit smoking. Jay is 56, Derek is about 20 years younger. Some of us heard--in the presence of witnesses--Derek say that if Jay just finished the race he'd quit! Will he really do it? We're all hopeful. Jay lost 20 pounds and worked out to be able to run, and I am so proud of him--and inspired. What a guy.

Next was granddaughter Jordan's husband Ethan, followed by

Allison, volleyball player extraordinaire, also did not train to run, but decided to give it a go and did a great job.

Allison's mom Jennifer crosses the finish line--she also had not trained but decided on the spur of the moment earlier in the week to try it.

The running crew (minus Haley; she'd already run off with friends).

Next year? Oh yeah--I'll be walking the route. Not running, mind you, but I can certainly walk. I have a feeling there will be several more of the family joining up next year besides me.

Add it to our 4th of July traditions, perhaps? Not a bad idea.

A Warm Welcome to Spring, and Goodbye to a Guest Who Overstayed His Welcome

As I got in the car last night, who did I see in the back seat, neatly strapped into his seatbelt?


Old Man Winter! He thought he was going to the party to have fun. He even brought a bottle of wine with him.

But he can't fool us. We know that's a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from Grey Ghost Winery where my sister works. She brought it to us last week. And he can't hide those horns either--see them sticking through his hat?

We took the scenic route to the bonfire, winding through Beech Grove and Angerona roads. A wrong turn made the trip a little longer, but who cared?

The scenery was beautiful and I have lots of photos to share this week.

When we arrived the fire was burning nicely. We left the Old Man in the car while we put the seven things that start with S on the table (sourdough, spinach dip, spring salad greens, seeds, Sauvignon, strawberries, and a sweet cake).

At a time not particularly selected for any reason, the Old Man was brought forth and carried to the circle around the fire.

A last toast and look around at the gathering, and then....

(Ruby the Bassett is not at all sure about these goings-on)

Into the fire! Did I feel a twinge of remorse? Well, a little, but I seemed to be the only one!

The flames quickly took care of Old Man Winter, and we all celebrated.

The end..in more ways than one. The Old Man is officially gone as far as we're concerned. His ghost might hang around a little while, of course, and try a few tricks.

But today, I am moving my seedlings to the greenhouse.

It's Spring!

Good-bye Old Man Winter

Who is that stranger in my swing?

He was resting pretty comfortably when I returned from work, but never bothered to say hello. Just grinned at me.




Larry seems to know him pretty well. He introduced me...


To Ol' Man Winter! He was comfortable when the sun was shining,

But tonight it's pretty chilly to be hanging out on a swing. It hasn't bothered him yet. He'd look more worried if he knew what is in store for him tomorrow night.

Bonfire. Need I say more?

Tomorrow night we'll gather with friends to celebrate the end of winter by burning our effigy of Old Man Winter in the fire! Larry did a pretty good job of making him, didn't he? He's a crafty man, my husband. (Or warped. I'm never sure which. Maybe both.)

What else will we do to celebrate the new season?

1. Give seeds to our friends--maybe lettuce? or flowers? I'll decide tomorrow.

2. Try to balance an egg on its end. I know, I know, it's old stuff and probably more legend than fact, but I have got to try it.

3. Have seven things beginning with "s" on the table. This is borrowed from Middle Eastern tradition, and I like it. So, what seven things? Maybe:

Strawberries
Spinach dip
Stew (I know this will be there already!)
Sauvignon (Cabernet, of course, but I need the "s" to be first)
Sweets of some kind
Sourdough bread
Salt? or salad? or ....any suggestions?

It will be a good time, maybe with some singing (I'm hoping my throat is better by then, but if not, I'll be happy to listen to the others), and maybe someone will play some music. We'll watch the stars circle and enjoy the swing of seasons.

Here's to the new year!

Groundhogs, Pagans and Saints: From Groundhog Day to Imbolc to St. Brigid

There's a song I use at almost every performance that has a verse about groundhogs. Once, while telling at a state park, a gentleman came up and wanted to talk about groundhogs.


He said, “You ever eat groundhog?”

“No sir,” I told him, “I can’t say I ever have.”

“You sure about that?” he asked.

“Pretty sure,” I said.

“Well, I’m betting you have,” he said. “Not only that, I bet you’ve ate it more than once.”

“I don’t think so,” I assured him.

He grinned at me and asked, “You ever ate sausage? What’s that but ground hog?”

Groundhogs are good for other things too--like making a banjo head ( although the sound isn't very good, so I hear) or cutting the hide into strips for shoe laces.

Brian Fox Ellis has a good groundhog story on his website.

Urban Legends offers a wealth of links to more groundhog information that most of us are interested in reading.

If you prefer print media, Don Yoder's well-researched book Groundhog Day provides the European background of the holiday, along with weather folklore and much more.


February 2nd is also known as Candlemas Day (a Catholic holy day), Imbolc (to the early pagans) and it is Brigid's day (later transformed from a celebration of the Celtic fertility goddess Brigid to the feast day of St. Bridgid or Bridget on February 1). Both of these have their own celebrations and rituals far removed from the groundhog.

Candlemas Day is the celebration of the purification ceremony for Mary 40 days after the birth of Christ. It is celebrated by many with the lighting of candles. It is also one of the traditional days for taking down the Christmas decorations (January 6th is another) so if you're still putting it off, you have a good reason for it!

Brigid's day was commemorated with rituals to encourage fertility in the fields, and was considered to be the first day of spring in Ireland. Farmers soaked bread with cider or spirits and buried it in a turned furrow; signs of Spring could be found even though winter still held a grip--lambs might be born, sprigs of green might be found in the gardens.


In County Kildare, you can visit Brigid's well, one of over 3000 holy wells that once existed in Ireland. If you can't visit Dave Walsh offers a slide show of his photos online. Like our Vietnam Veterans memorial, visitors leave offerings of all kinds at the well.


Many poems and ancient tales of Brigid are collected on Conrad Bladey's site; Conrad offers information from his years of research on all topics Irish. At Chalicecentre, this poem is cited without a source:


Brighid's Arrow:
Most Holy Brighid, Excellent Woman, Bright Arrow, Sudden Flame;May your bright fiery Sun take us swiftly to your lasting kingdom.


The name Brigid (also spelled (Brigit or Brighid) is said to mean "fiery arrow" by many sources. In some parts of Ireland, small effigies of her are carried house to house, much like Wassailing, and small coins and oatcakes are given to the groups. Other sources give the meaning of her name as "exalted one," and cite her as the goddess of fire, poetry and wisdom.


For more about St. Brigid, Anna Egan Smucker's book is an excellent and beautifully illustrated source. I will post a review soon--I gave a copy to a friend last year, and now my copy is on order!

Other good sources:

Candlemas: Feast of Flames by Amber K


Answers.com provides information about the name, the legends and mythology in a well-written article.


Background about St. Brigid's cross is offered on Cross and Crucifix.


You can learn to make a cross on YouTube, from an Irishwoman who gives great instructions and clearly displayed.


Of course there is customary food to celebrate Brigid's Day! Colcannon, Oaten Cake and Boxty Cakes are offered at fisheaters.com along with more information and lore about Brigid.

Here is the recipe for oaten cakes from that website:

St. Brigid's Oatcakes (serves 4)

2 cups uncooked, old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant)

1 1/4 cups buttermilk

2 1/2 cups sifted bread flour1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder1 teaspoon salt

Vegetable oil spray

A day ahead, combine the oats and buttermilk in a small bowl.
Blend thoroughly, cover and refrigerate overnight.
The next day, preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Remove the oat mixture from the refrigerator.

Combine the bread flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Slowly add the oat mixture and stir with a wooden spoon 20 to 30 times, or until you have a smooth dough.

Grease a baking sheet with the oil spray. Turn the dough onto the baking sheet, and use your hands to form a round, cake-shaped loaf about 1-inch thick. Use a sharp knife or pizza cutter to cut the dough into 4 quarters.
Move the quarters apart slightly, but keep them in the original round shape.

Bake until the cakes are light golden brown and firm to the touch, 30 to 35 minutes.

Cool slightly on a rack, and serve with butter and jam or preserves. Makes 1 loaf (in quarters).


I started with the groundhog and traveled to the holy ground of Brigid. This seems to happen frequently when I begin to wonder about a bit of folklore that I took for granted--looking for the history behind these things is a fascinating journey.

There is still time, if you are so minded, to prepare a different kind of celebration for February 2. Instead of waiting around on a media-blitzed groundhog, why not light your home with candles, clean your hearth and start a new fire, make some oaten cake, and go outside to see if perhaps the crocus and snowdrops are peeking through the snow?

(Note: This is post #1100 for this blog. I didn't realize I'd written so many.)

How Will You Celebrate the New Year?

Do you have special plans for your New Year's celebration?

Do you observe certain traditions and customs?

Do you have New Year's superstitions?

Do you prepare special foods for luck and health?

Or do you just go to bed at your usual time?

As you might know from a previous post, we build a New Year's bonfire in which we burn all the things that are worrying us and those who send their troubles to us to burn.

We stay up late, share music and stories, have lots of food on hand. (You can read all about last year's celebration here.) The kids beat pots and pans to celebrate, the adults sip champagne, and we wake up the quiet night of the ridge with our noise. Far away we can usually hear fireworks and guns going off as neighbors on distant hills celebrate in their own ways.

• I watch for the first-footer too, trying to make sure it's a dark-haired man who leaves through a different door than the one through which he entered. In Scotland, this first-footer should carry in a small lump of coal for the fire--at my house, a log for the wood stove might be more appropriate! (Last year I wrote this post about five ways to celebrate.)
  
  Other things I do to ensure a good year:
  Listen up! The first words I hear after the year changes might carry portents for the rest of the year.
• Do things I enjoy on New Year's Day. This often includes touching base with my family and planning the garden with seed catalogs in hand.
• We used to have to work every New Year's Eve and New Year's day. Now it's important to me to be home because it seems to impact how the rest of my year will go. Superstitious? Yeah!
• Spend no money. An old superstition says that nothing should go out, not even dust or the trash. I don't know about that, but not spending on New Year's is another of those precedent-setting things for the coming year.
• There are conflicting world opinions about sweeping on New Year's. Some say you will sweep out your luck, others sweep out the old year's dust. So I sweep if it's needed!
• My mother always said that if you cried on New Year's, you'd cry all year. true? I don't know, but I try not to cry ;-)

As for food:

We always eat cabbage (with wrapped coins mixed in--I think this was a way to get kids to eat cabbage, one of the few vegetables available in winter in the old days, but probably not a favorite with kids then either! My sons were always on the hunt for rthe coins, but the deal was they had to eat all their cabbage to keep the coins. Quarters were the favorite, of course.), The cabbage can be coleslaw, of course, although somehow that seems like cheating.

Black-eyed peas are on the menu, too--my version mixes the peas with Ro-Tell Tomatoes and onions--spicy and good. And ham--yumm!

So share! What are your plans? What will you cook? What will you do or not do to celebrate and to guarantee your good luck?

For more ideas for food and celebration, try these websites:

New Year's Day traditions and superstitions

Parties all over the country!

Food Network's gallery of recipes

Recipes, crafts and recipes abound on this site

How to make Hoppin' John to spice up those black-eyed peas (but I like my version best!)

Green Tomato Mincemeat Pie

This. is. so. good.

No kidding. This is the best mincemeat I've ever made.

This is a picture of the pie I made for Thanksgiving. Would you believe we never cut it until this morning? I confess, I had pie for mid-morning snack as I was leaving late for work (this ol' cold is as nasty one).

This pie sat in the fridge, covered with plastic and ignored because we're still trying to finish up that to-die-for hickory nut cake. But this morning I cut a slice, and oh my. It makes the taste buds sing!

If you've never had mincemeat, it's difficult to describe. It's not like sweet-sweet raisin pie; it's sweet, but tart at the same time, with such a complex blend of flavors that you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

I wrote instructions for making mincemeat tarts and the recipe for making green tomato mincemeat in earlier posts. I was out of raisins when I made my mincemeat so I used dried cranberries and that seems to have been a happy addition.

Cranberries, grated orange and lemon peel, apples, green tomatoes, a little bit of ground chuck, vinegar, brown sugar, spices--you name it, it's in there. All cooked together, canned and processed in the pressure canner. Sounds terrible when I read it, but believe me--it's good!