Hello September!

54°f/12°C, mostly clear. 

Rabbit, rabbit rabbit! Time to say the magic words that will make us all rich and/or lucky this month! You can see how well it has worked for me, saying it all these years. As to where the saying originated, apparently no one knows for sure, but some link it to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. The first written record of the saying was in 1908, when someone reported a young girl saying it.

Did you ever carry a lucky rabbit's foot? I know I had one as a child, and I bought one for a program on superstitions I presented a while back. But did you know that this seems to have come from an African tradition,  probably brought to the US by slaves. History.com reports that one advertisement for rabbit's feet said that "A 1908 British account reports rabbits’ feet imported from America being advertised as ‘the left hind foot of a rabbit killed in a country churchyard at midnight, during the dark of the moon, on Friday the 13th of the month, by a cross-eyed, left-handed, red-headed bow-legged Negro riding a white horse,’” he writes. “While other collected versions disagree about exactly when the rabbit must be killed, all indicate that the rabbit's foot historicizes an especially uncanny or evil time: the dark of the moon; a Friday; a rainy Friday; a Friday the Thirteenth.”

Whew. I don't think I will ever carry one again! Although, Franklin D. Roosevelt was never without one, and he also said 'rabbit, rabbit, rabbit' on the first of the month. 

Also, did you know that September used to be the seventh month? That was back under the old Roman calender and the name stems from the Latin word for seven, septem. When the change to the Gregorian calender was made, a couple months were added, shifting September from seventh to ninth place. The same happened with October,  November,  and December. 

So, there's that, and not at all what I meant to write about this morning. But down the proverbial internet rabbit hole I went!

We got the apples done yesterday. It took 4 hours, and we ended up with 40 quarts; more than enough, added to what we already have, to make our apple butter. 

Most people start with sliced apples, but my neighbor Belva taught me to make the sauce the day before, because that greatly reduces the cooking time needed. And today, with the Victorio strainer, it is even easier. When our son Derek was deployed overseas, we struck on the idea of canning the applesauce so that we could make apple butter when he came home. That year, we cooked it down in February, in a blinding snow! His daughter's were making a snowman while we stirred, using what Larry calls a "blow George" (a sheet of metal leaned against the kettle) to protect the fire. What a fun day that was. 

Time to get out of here and take that table to Haley. Happy Labor/Labour Day, all!

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

The Holly Bears a Berry

45°f this morning, dropping to the 30's by evening. Rain, fog, clouds all day.

Is there anything more fun than singing with a group of people? Most Christmas carols were written to be sung by groups of just ordinary folks, which means most of us can sing them pretty decently---and if we don't, who cares?  The fun is in the sharing.

One of my very favorite Christmas carols is The Holly Bears a Berry. It was such a joy to sing it a cappella at my Christmas presentations, and audiences quickly picked up the refrain (if they did not already know it), and sang along. The song has an interesting background, which i will get to in a moment but first, let's talk about holly.

Evergreens were believed by many early civilizations to represent the continuation of life even in the coldest and darkest times of year. Any plant still green in winter was used to decorate for the winter festivals. And holly was a favorite.

Did you know there are over 400 varieties of holly, that it was once valued as fodder for animals, and was cultivated to be less thorny? In pagan times holly was believed to have protective powers and was used to guard against evil,  often by carrying a holly twig in one's pocket. Holly was also used as protection against lightning and fire by keeping a small twig of holly in the house year round. 

Other holly superstitions:

Girls looking for husbands would scratch the name of their true love into a holly leaf and sew the leaf into their nightgowns to induce dreams about their sweetheart. (I think it would induce some bad sleep and scratches myself!)

Holly should not be removed from the home until Old Christmas Eve (January 5th) according to some sources. 

For every berry that dropped from the holly in the house, one person from that household would pass away within the year. That would certainly inspire housewives to keep the branches well watered!

Finding a holly tree or bush loaded with berries when gathering for decorations was considered a good omen and a sign of plenty in the coming year.

Prickly holly is male, smoother is female; bring in equal amounts for a peaceful year! 

Tradition dictated that the greenery not be brought into the house before Christmas Eve.  Earlier was seen as a way of announcing to evil spirits that festivities were about to begin and they might sneak in and disrupt the celebrations.

(Remember, this was the time that the "veil" between the living and spirit worlds was thought to be thinnest, and that the evil spirits could easily cross over.)

All evergreens were supposed to be disposed of by burning. Some traditions said they should be burned on Candlemas Eve (Feb 1); others that the burning should take place on Twelfth Night. 

Of course, most of this lore pre-dates Christianity, and celebrations would have centered around the Winter Solstice. Early Christian missionaries were wise enough to attach Christian symbolism to pagan traditions and beliefs so that eventually Christmas Day became the focus instead of Solstice. 

The Sans Day Carol from Cornwall is a good example of this interweaving. First written down in the 19th century from the singing of a man named Thomas Beard, the carol got its name from the village of Saint Day in which it was collected. The song was probably based on one much older, with the Christian parts inserted to tie the holly to the new religion. The song is commonly referred to today as The Holly Bears a Berry.

My favorite version of this carol is by the Chieftains.

Lyrics:

Now the holly bears a berry as white as the milk,

And Mary bore Jesus, all wrapped up in silk:

    Refrain:

And Mary bore Jesus Christ our Saviour for to be,
And the first tree in the greenwood, it was the holly.
Holly! Holly!
And the first tree in the greenwood, it was the holly!

Now the holly bears a berry as green as the grass,
And Mary bore Jesus, who died on the cross:

Now the holly bears a berry as black as the coal,
And Mary bore Jesus, who died for us all:

Now the holly bears a berry, as blood is it red,
Then trust we our Saviour, who rose from the dead.

Honeysuckle

65, clear and crisp after yesterday's storms. We got 2 inches of rain in about 30 minutes.

Honeysuckle, so pretty in the wild, such a pest when it springs up where it's not wanted. Such is the case in one of my gardens. I have tried unsuccessfully to get rid of it, so, to try to make myself feel better about the vine's invasion into my space, I decided to look into the folklore of this most common of wildlings in my part of the world.

Here's some of what I have learned:

Other names for honeysuckle: Irish vine, woodbine, fairy trumpets, honeybind, trumpet flowers, goats leaf and sweet suckle.

The old name Woodbine describes the twisting, binding nature of the honeysuckle through the hedgerows of the Old World.

It was believed that if honeysuckle grew around the entrance to the home it prevented a witch from entering. In other places it's believed that grown around the doors it will bring good luck. If it grows well in your garden, then you will be protected from evil. In Ireland honeysuckle was believed to have a power against bad spirits, and it was used in a drink to cure the effects of the evil eye.

Bringing the flowers into the house will bring money with them.

Honeysuckle has long been a symbol of fidelity and affection. Those who wear honeysuckle flowers are said to be able to dream of their true love. Its clinging nature, in the book The Language of Flowers, symbolizes 'we are united in love,' and emphasizes the bond of devotion and affection between two people. It was also believed that if the blooms were brought into the house then a wedding would follow within a year.

In the Victorian era there was a ban on young girls bringing honeysuckle into the home because the heady fragrance of the flowers was believed to cause dreams that were far too risqué for their sensibilities.

The wood has been used to make walking sticks because of its nature to grow around and entwine saplings. Actually, I have never seen honeysuckle big enough for this, unless this is referring to the shrub?

The dried flowers are used for adding to pot-pourri, herb pillows and floral waters. Also, scented cosmetics are made from the fresh flowers.

The sturdy stems of honeysuckle have been used to make rope as far back as the Bronze Age, and in parts of Britain were commonly made into bridles and harnesses for pack ponies. Geoffrey Chaucer mentioned 'wodebyne' is a symbol of steadfastness.

Well, if having honeysuckle in my garden near the entrance to our walk, then perhaps it's a good thing. I just hope we can learn to co-exist peacefully. What are the odds? Not in my favor, I'm sure.

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

The Bee's Knees

62 and raining.

I miss having honeybees. There is something completely satisfying about a busy hive nestled under a springtime tree, the hum providing the perfect music for this time of year. There are still some wild bees around our place, very likely from a swarm from our former neighbor, who gave up on his bees and left them to their own devices. We would like to have hives again, but the cost of replacement bees nowadays makes beekeeping almost a rich man's hobby, it seems. But maybe one day we will dive in again, because it just seems odd not to have a hive or two on the place.

Yesterday someone said something about a thing being "the bee's knees". A funny saying, when you come to think of it. What does it mean, anyway? And where did the saying come from?

A quick google search turned up the following: "The phrase was first recorded in the late 18th century, when it was used to mean 'something very small and insignificant'. Its current meaning dates from the 1920s, at which time a whole collection of American slang expressions were coined with the meaning 'an outstanding person or thing'. Examples included the flea's eyebrows, the canary's tusks, and one that still survives – the cat's whiskers. The switch in meaning for the bee's knees  probably emerged because it was so similar in structure and pattern to these other phrases." from Lexico.com .

I have never heard the expression, "the flea's eyebrows" either, but I kinda like it--so descriptive of a tiny thing, isn't it?

Then I got to thinking of other sayings about bees. We all know sweet as honey, of course, and it's self-explanatory, and about how some cultures go out to tell the bees when someone has passed away. But how about the one that says if a bee enters your home, a visitor is coming? Or if a bee lands on your hand, that's good luck? There are plenty of others, such as:

Using bad language around the bees will get you stung. Similarly, you should never argue around bees. These make sense to me, as animals, and probably bees, can sense the change in atmosphere when someone is angry or scared. Maybe we put off a certain scent, or pheromones, when we're angry.

Bees should be told when someone dies, marries, or another important event occurs. They should also be introduced if they get a new beekeeper. 

If a bee comes in the house, don't try to force it out. Just leave a window or door open so it can leave on its own.

A bee landing on your hand means money is coming to you, and a bee on your head means great success is in your future.

image from wikimedia

The name Melissa comes from the Greek, and means "honeybee". I know several ladies named Melissa, and I wonder if they know this little fact. The name Deborah also means "bee".

Bees are considered symbols of loyalty and diligence. Which makes me think of the expressions "working like a bee" and "busy as a bee".

Most of us have heard that "A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay, a swarm in June iss worth a silver spoon, but a swarm in July is not worth a fly". This is because the bees will not have time to make enough honey to survive the winter if they swarm in July. Of course, in warmer climates, this old saw doesn't really hold true.

 This old proverb really gets to the point, doesn't it? Words are like bees – some create honey

and others leave a sting. And an old Arab proverb says, "When you shoot an arrow of truth,

dip its point in honey." 

So with all of that, I'll buzz off for today, leaving you with this, one of my favorite songs by Judy Collins:

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

Trees: Folklore and Fables

38 this morning, cloudy. Some minor flooding, I hear, from last night's heavy rains. 

This is an update of a post from 2009. I checked the links and many of them were no longer working, so they've been updated, and a few new links and photos added. Enjoy.

On the ridge, Springtime

Around the world people tell many stories with trees at their center, and in some places trees are considered holy, inhabited by spirits, or bringers of luck and fortune. 

The website Spirit of the Trees hosts a broad collection of tree stories, Started as a resource for the DC Memorial Tree Groves , the site grew to encompass scientific, folkloric, and educational resources in essays, stories and resource links. Storytellers contributed tales, and an extensive list of stories on the web is hosted on the site.

At Beartown Rocks, West Virginia

The Tree People is a unique experiment in preservation in Los Angeles, CA. And have you ever wondered if trees sleep at night, go here to read all about that.

The oak, of course, is often the topic of tree stories. With reason. The stately, long-lived oak exudes strength, provides deep shade and steady, long-lasting heat when cut, and hardens to a stone-like toughness for use as a building material. Its golden grain graces many pieces of furniture and flooring, and its acorns provided food for the ancient Celts and food and shelter for all kinds of other animal life. Photos of the oldest known oak trees can be found here.

Then there is the "fairy bush" in County Clare, Ireland, that delayed the building of a road for something like 10 years. The road was eventually routed around the bush. 

A friend suggested a haunting story called The Armchair of the Tustenuggee from the book Palmetto Stories by Celina Eliza Means. What a tale this is, with a curiously twisted, but satisfying ending.

At Sacred Woods and the Lore of Trees you can find folklore associated with trees of all kinds. What I like about this site (librarian that I am) is her listed bibliography of sources. While she does not tell you where each tree's information came from, she at least supplied the places she consulted for the information provided on her website.

Wikipedia offers an overview of sacred trees around the world. This tree with its network of roots is on the grounds of the Avebury Standing Stones in England, and surely considered sacred although it's not on the Wikipedia list.

And this one, located at Carn Euny in Cornwall, was at the site of a holy well, and hung with clouties--strips of ribbon or string, tied to the tree by someone with a special wish or prayer. Yes, we tied on a piece of string too.

At egreenway, Michael Garofalo has compiled an incredible bibliography (the librarian strikes again!) along with poetry, quotes, folklore and monthly collections of all the above, all about trees. His site is a little difficult to use, requiring much scrolling, but thee information provided is worth the sore finger.

Here's a poem for March from his site:

"The year's at the spring

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hillside's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn;

God's in His heaven

-All's right with the world!"

- Robert Browning

Amen, Mr. Browning. We've all heard this poem but in early spring, and we all need to hear it again.

Around the world:

*from Robert Browning comes the tale of the Sugar Palm Tree, from Indonesian Folklore. "A husband and a wife lived happily in a village. They had two children a son and a daughter. The son’s name was Tare Iluh and the daughter’s name was Beru Sibou. Their happy life ended when their father died." To read the rest, you need to visit the site. I promise it is worth your time.

*And from another exotic location comes stories of Papa Bois: "He is the old man of the forest and is known by many names, including "Maître Bois" (master of the woods) and "Daddy Bouchon" (hairy man)." Probably the source of the Cajun stories of Wiley and the Hairy Man? (You can find a reader's theatre adaptation of this suspenseful story of a boy's encounters with the Hairy Man here.)

I will leave you with this thought:

"The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity, and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.

- William Blake, 1799, The Letters

A man ahead of his time.

Go outside and enjoy your trees, even if it is still a bit chilly, My old maples are showing signs of the coming of spring as they try to bud in this cold weather. Hope springs eternal, even in trees.

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

Ahhhh--Chooo! What Does a Sneeze Mean?

56 this morning, absolutely balmy. Coffee and tea on the porch in the sunshine.

by Sir Nathaniel Dance-Holland 1735–1811

I have been sneezing like a crazy woman for the past week. It's no fun either, feels like my whole body gets a shake-up every time. This got me to wondering if there are superstitions connected with sneezing, and of course, there are. There are also many medical reasons for sneezing which I'm not going to get into, preferring to leave that to the professionals. I am much more interested in the odd things that people have believed over the centuries about all facets of our life, and today, that's--ah-choo!--excuse me--sneezing.

When I was a child, I believed that if I sneezed with our eyes open, our eyes would pop out. Really! So I was careful to always close my eyes when I sneezed. I think I read that in a book and took it to heart. I was pretty disappointed to learn later on that it wasn't true, but for some years I watched people who sneezed very carefully. Not one eyeball popped out.

In Poland, people believed that if you sneezed, your mother-in-law was talking about you. I suppose this could be a good thing if she liked you?

Asian cultures link the number of sneezes to specific events. Owlcation gives this explanation: "One sneeze means people are saying good things about you; two sneezes in a row means people are saying bad things about you; three sneezes in a row is a sign that someone is in love with you or you may fall in love soon. Four or more sneezes mean a calamity will come upon the person or their family." 

Oh dear. I've been sneezing many times in a row these days. I hope there is a belief somewhere else in the world that this is good luck. And speaking of good luck there are lots of associations between sneezing and luck, such as:

• it will bring a windfall of money, 
• In ancient Greece, sneezing was believed to be a sign of prophecies from the gods. 
• Sneezing in the evening, but before midnight, is a sign of a pending invitation. 
• In Scotland, a child who sneezes will escape the clutches of the fairies. 
• Some say that three sneezes in a row means someone loves you.

We typically say "Bless you" or "God bless you" when someone sneezes. All over the world, people offer some type of saying after a sneeze, such as in Greece, where the comment made after a sneeze can be translated as "the gods have sneezed on it," meaning that what was spoken was the truth.

It's amazing how many superstitions link to this odd function of our body. To read more, check out these websites:

Wikipedia gives extensive history and more.

Owlcation offers a long article with more superstitions than I can count.

Along with superstitions, luckeymoneymyth starts their article with a funny personal story about sneezing.

Beijing Kids offers a look at Chinese superstitions about sneezing.

Even the LA Times got into sneezing with an article.

The University of Michigan offers an article from 1869 on sneezing. A snippet from the article: "Sneezing was not always a lucky omen. If you sneeze between

midnight and the following noontide, very fortunate; but, if from

noontide till midnight, unfortunate. Some old writer says: "When

the ancients were getting up in the morning, if they chanced to sneeze

while putting on their shoes, they immediately went back to bed again,

in order that they might get up more auspiciously and escape the misfortunes which were likely to recur on that day."

I am happy to report that while finishing up this post, I have not sneezed once, so surely writing about sneezing is good luck? or maybe it's because of the Claritin I took. Whatever the truth, God bless all of you, whether you are sneezing or not.

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

Covid Journal, Day 287: Getting Ready for New Year's Day

Rain, then sleet this morning, 38 and dropping. Snow flurries expected this morning, then more rain.

It's not a pretty day to end the year, but maybe the rain is really the tears all of us have shed this year as we lost so many to Covid-19. A somber thought on this gray morning, but let's look ahead now to the year in front of us. What will it be? How will it be? How will we be? 

To lighten the mood a little, here is the best from several posts I've written in the past about New Year's Day. So get ready to get ready--gather your parsley, black-eyed peas, cabbage, and ham, along with your beverage of choice to welcome in this new beginning. 

In 2008 I posted a blog about New Year's traditions, and in 2011 I recorded an interview for WV Public Radio on the topic. Here are some new ones I've found, along with the essay and my original post at the bottom for those of you who might have forgotten all the technicalities that supposedly ensure luck, health, happiness and wealth in the coming year.

Calendar: Take a calender for the new year, then close your eyes (or use a blindfold if it's a party) and turn the pages of the calendar at random and put your finger on a date. On that date, something good will happen to you. You will be able to look forward to this "lucky day" all year.

First-footer: always make sure it is a man who enters your home first on New Year's Day. Some traditions hold that it should be a light-haired man. (I'm in luck there, with Larry's white head!) Others insist on a light-haired man, so I guess it's all good either way.

Parsley: a leaf of parsley on the bottom shelf of your fridge on New Year's Day will make it certain that you will never be without money in the coming year. No wonder I've always been broke. Who knew?

And yet more. This could be a busy day, just getting ready for midnight.

Have you cleaned your house, put on new clothes, put money in your pocket and invited a dark-haired man to be the first to cross your threshold at midnight? If you have done all of these things, you have made a good start for the new year. 

As for food: many people in the mountains still cook and serve cabbage every New Year’s Day. I follow my English mother’s tradition of wrapping wrapped coins in foil, to be found in the servings on our plates at dinner. Although health experts would probably choke on their cabbage at such a practice, it has apparently done me little harm, although I can’t say I have ever gained the wealth that was supposed to come from dutifully following this custom. The cabbage must be served with pork, because chickens and turkeys scratch for their food, and cattle eat standing still. Since the hog eats while moving forward, obviiously pork is the best choice to ensure a year of progress.

Finding a dark-haired man, called the “first-footer,” to enter your home before anyone else on New Year’s morning is supposed to assure wealth, just as it did for my mother’s family back in England.  There are also those who believe that it’s bad luck to take the Christmas tree down until after New Year’s Day. So if you’re one of those who hurries to get the tree down quickly after Christmas Day, you might want to enjoy that tree just a little longer and see if your fortunes improve this year. In Scotland, homes are scoured for the coming of the new year, a custom that still has its followers in our mountains. I heard a Jackson County neighbor refer to this as “redding the house,” the same term used in Scotland to describe these preparations.

Fire has been used as a purifying force as far back as history can recall. In the British Isles there are fire festivals dating to the times of the ancient Celts that are still observed. So light a fire, burn your troubles in it, and bring in the coming year with a purifying ritual. 

More from past posts:

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

• 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 about food and celebration, try these websites:

New Year's Day traditions and superstitions

A list of 13 New Year's superstitions--an unlucky number for luck?

Food Network's gallery of recipes

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

And lastly:

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

Covid Journal, Day 204: Pears--Folklore, Stories and More

A rainy weekend, and cloudy today with showers expected tonight. Warmer, with a high near 80 today.

No one ever died for a bite

of one, or came back from the dead

for a single taste: the cool flesh

cellular or stony, white

--from Pear, by Paisley Rekdal

My post last week about pears got me wondering if there are superstitions, folklore or stories connected with this fruit. And, of course, there is. I also wondered about the origin of pears. Are they originally from Asia--thinking of Asian pears--or some other place?

I found only a few superstitions connected to pears. For example, did you know that in China, you should never give someone a pear, or share a pear with someone, because that could be bad news for your relationship. According to what I found online, this is because the Chinese word for pear is very similar to the word for leaving, or parting. This does make me wonder if this is just a way to keep all the pears to oneself.

As to where pears come from, I found the following information on the Purdue Horticulture site: "The origin and early history of pear is well described in The Pears of New York by Hedrick (1921) and this review draws heavily on this great compilation. The genus Pyrus, native to the Northern Hemisphere of the Old World, consists of about 20 species of which half are found in Europe, North Africa, and Asia minor; and half in Asia. These have given rise to two groups of domesticated pears, the soft-fleshed European Pyrus communis and the crisp-fleshed Asiatic pears, principally P. pyrifolia (P. serotina). The pear has continually been a common fruit in the West as well and is considered part of the cultural heritage of Europe. In fact, in present day Spain there is a juvenile expression, Esto es “La Pera” (this is the pear), when referring to a particularly wonderful or enjoyable situation or experience. The precise origin of the European pear is still unknown but it has been with us since prehistoric times and dried slices have been unearthed in Swiss cave dwellings of the Ice Age. In Asia, the culture of pear goes back 2500–3000 years and has been chronicled in Chinese writings (Shi Jing) from at least 1200 years ago."  https://www.hort.purdue.edu/newcrop/janick-papers/pearinhistory.pdf

Painting by Paul Cezanne

And from the same source: "In Egyptian antiquity the pear was sacred to Isis. In Christian symbolism the pear frequently appears in connection with Christ’s love for mankind (Jakes 1961). In China, the pear is symbolic of justice, longevity, purity, wisdom, and benevolent administration. In Korea, the pear typifies grace, nobility, and purity, and the pear tree, comfort. There are a number of Korean legends which involve the pear as endowing fertility to women, good fortune in exams, wisdom, and health, while the pear flower, by its whiteness, is symbolic of the face of beautiful women and the transience of petals is a metaphor for the sadness and coldness of departure. In the Western “language of flowers” the pear blossom is the birthday flower for August 17 symbolizing affection (Ferguson, 1954). In many parts of the world the pear symbolizes the human heart which it resembles."

So to answer my own question, yes indeed, there are quite a few superstitions connected to the sweet pear. Fertility, wisdom, purity, grace, beauty. All good things, surely.

But then there is Lizzie Borden, who claimed she could not have killed her parents because she was outside eating a pear when they were murdered. Allrighty then. Seems a weak defense to me. A rather grisly connection to the pear, I'm afraid. But apparently enough to get her acquitted.

I found two folktales in which pears play a prominent role. 

The Golden Pears

Painting by Paul Cezanne

There was once a poor farmer in Bürs  (Austria). He had only three sons and a pear-tree that grew in front of his cottage. But these pears were very fine and the king delighted in them. One day the farmer said to his sons that he would send a basket of them to the king for a present.

He lined a basket with fresh leaves, laid the pears on them and sent his oldest son to offer them to the king. 

"Do not eat any of the pears, mind," the farmer said. "These are for the King alone.And don't let anyone rob you on the way." 

The boy answered: "I know how to take care of what I have."

The farmer covered the top of the basket with fresh leaves and the oldest son set off.

It was autumn, and the sun was still quite warm. When he came at last to a roadside fountain, he sat down to drink and rest.

A bent, wrinkled old woman was washing some rags at the same fountain and singing out of tune.

"A fair day, my lad!" said the little old wife; "but you have to carry a heavy burden. What are you carrying?"

"Only a load of sweepings off the road," answered the boy.

"Road-sweepings?" repeated the woman. "Well, if you mean it, no doubt it is so," and she went on washing and singing out of tune.

The boy soon continued on his way to the castle, where the King welcomed him at once.

"You have brought me some of your father's pears, my boy?" asked the King as he licked his lips.

"Yes, sire, I have them in this basket."

The King was delighted to hear this, but what do you think? Under the leaves was nothing but sweepings off the road! The poor oldest son was thrown into jail for disappointing the King, and lying on top of it.

The first and second day in jail the boy blamed the old wife, but as he thought more closely, he saw he had brought it on himself by lying to her.

A year later, the farmer said to his other two sons, "Your elder brother has perhaps pleased the King so much that he has got a great office near him and has become a rich man."

The second brother said, "May I give the King a basket of pears too? If the King makes me rich, I will send for you and make you rich too."

"Well said, son," answered the father; "for I have worked hard for you all my life and it is fit that in my old age you should share your wealth with me."

As the season for pears had just come round again, the second son made another basket, lined it with fresh leaves and laid several beautiful pears in it.

The following day, he walked a long way carrying the pears. But the sun was as hot as it had been last year. When he came to the fountain by the wayside on the third day, he was glad to sit down to rest and refresh himself.

Who do you think was at the fountain? Why, the same old doubled-up woman. She stood washing her rags at the fountain and singing out of tune. When she saw the boy with his basket, she said, "I see you carry a heavy burden. What are you carrying?"

"A load of sweepings off the road," answered the boy, for he and his elder brother had come up with that answer together last year, when they were considering how to keep from being robbed.

"Road-sweepings?" repeated the woman. "Well, if you mean it, no doubt it is so." And she went on washing and singing out of tune.

The boy went on to the King's castle. When he brought his basket to the King it was once again filled with street-sweepings, not his father's luscious pears. The King's guard hurried him off to jail for offending the king like that, and put him in the next cell to his brother.

Another year passed. The father got very uneasy. The third son was thought to be a dull boy and had often been laughed at by the others for it.

"If I dared trust you, I would gladly send you to see what has happened to your brothers," said his father.

"I can go, Father," he said. "I'll find my brothers, I promise."

"Do you really think you can keep yourself out of harm's way?" said his father. "Well, I will not let you go empty-handed." The pears were just ripe again, so he laid the choicest of the year's stock in another basket and sent him on his way.

The boy walked along. All went smoothly, except that he got rather scorched by the sun. So when he reached the fountain by the wayside, he was glad to sit down to rest and refresh himself.

The old wife was washing her rags in the water and singing out of tune. "Here comes a third boy with a basket of pears - as if I didn't know the scent of ripe golden pears from road-sweepings!"

"Good morning, little mother!" said the boy, in his countryman way, before he sat down.

"He is better mannered than the other two," thought the wife as she stopped singing to return his greeting.

"And what are you carrying, my boy?" she went on. "It ought to be a precious burden to be worth carrying so far as you seem to have come. What is in your basket?"

"I carry golden pears and my father often says there are no finer grown in the whole kingdom. I am taking them to the King because he is very fond of them."

"Only ripe pears and yet so heavy?" wondered the old wife.

The boy assured her they were nothing but pears and went on his journey after the rest.

When the servants saw another peasant boy from Bürs come to the palace with the story that he had pears for the King, they said, "No, no! We have had enough of that! Go back!"

But the boy was so disappointed at the idea of not doing as his father had asked him to, that he sank down on the door-step and sobbed bitterly. There he remained sobbing till the king came out.

The king had his daughter with him. When she saw the boy sobbing, she asked what was the matter, and learnt it was another boy from Bürs who had come to insult the King with a basket of road-sweepings. The guards asked if they should take him off to prison at once.

The boy sobbed: "My father says there are no finer pears in the whole kingdom."

"Yes, yes, that is exactly what the others said!" answered the servants, and made ready to drag him away.

"But won't you look at my pears first, lady? I have brought them all this way for the King. My father will be so sad if I do not give them to him!"

He seemed so earnest that the princess wanted to see what was in his basket. She removed the covering of leaves and discovered that what he had brought were golden pears - each was of solid shining metal! "Let us show these to my father," she said.

The King was pleased to see his favourite fruit in gold, and said to the boy, "Whatever you ask shall be given."

"All I want is to find my two brothers, who may hold some great office at court," said the boy.

"Your brothers are in jail if they are the ones I suspect," said the King and commanded that they should be brought. The boys at once ran to embrace each other, and the King made them each recount all their adventures.

"You see how dangerous it is to depart from the truth!" the King said to the two eldest when they had done. "You might have remained in prison to the end of your days but for your straightforward brother that you thought was less than yourselves."

Then he ordered that the tree that brought forth golden, but eatable pears should be transplanted to his palace, and made the father and his three sons places among his gardeners. And so they lived in plenty and were well content.

Here is yet one more pear story, and I rather like this one. Aunty Misery, below, is believed to be from Puerto Rico. The story of Soldier Jack, also known as The Man Who Caught Death in a Sack, has a similar theme--it is told as an Appalachian tale, but probably has roots in England. The folklorist Arthur Ransome has a version from Russia, and I am sure there are many others.  It is also very like Godfather Death, from The Brothers Grimm. I do love the way stories, or parts of them travel from culture to culture. I found this story on several sites online.

Aunty Misery 

This is a story about an old, very old woman who lived alone in her little hut with no other company than a beautiful pear tree that grew at her door. 

She spent all her time taking care of her pear tree. But the neighborhood children drove the old woman crazy by stealing her fruit. They would climb her tree, shake its delicate limbs, and run away with armloads of golden pears, yelling insults at “Aunty Misery,” as they called her. 

One day, a pilgrim stopped at the old woman’s hut and asked her permission to spend the night under her roof. Aunty Misery saw that he had an honest face and bade the traveler come in. She fed him and made a bed for him in front of her hearth. 

In the morning while he was getting ready to leave, the stranger told her that he would show his gratitude for her hospitality by granting her one wish. 

“There is only one thing that I desire,” said Aunty Misery. 

“Ask, and it shall be yours,” replied the stranger, who was a sorcerer in disguise. 

“I wish that anyone who climbs up my pear tree should not be able to come back down until I permit it.” 

“Your wish is granted,” said the stranger, touching the pear tree as he left Aunty Misery’s house. 

And so it happened that when the children came back to taunt the old woman and to steal her fruit, she stood at her window watching them. Several of them shimmied up the trunk of the pear tree and immediately got stuck to it as if with glue. She let them cry and beg her for a long time before she gave the tree permission to let them go, on the condition that they never again steal her fruit or bother her. 

 Time passed and both Aunty Misery and her tree grew bent and gnarled with age. One day another traveler stopped at her door. This one looked exhausted, so the old woman asked him what he wanted in her village. 

He answered her in a voice that was dry and hoarse, as if he had swallowed a desert: “I am Death, and I have come to take you with me.” 

Thinking fast, Aunty Misery said, “All right, but before I go I would like to pluck some pears from my beloved pear tree to remember how much pleasure it brought me in this life. But I am a very old woman and cannot climb to the tallest branches where the best fruit is; will you be so kind as to do it for me?” 

With a heavy sigh like wind through a catacomb, Death climbed the pear tree. Immediately he became stuck to it as if with glue. And no matter how much he cursed and threatened, Aunty Misery would not give the tree permission to release Death. 

Many years passed and there were no deaths in the world. The people who made their living from death began to protest loudly. The doctors claimed no one bothered to come in for examinations or treatments anymore, because they did not fear dying; the pharmacists’ business suffered too because medicines are, like magic potions, bought to prevent or postpone the inevitable; the priests and undertakers were unhappy with the situation also, for obvious reasons. There were also many old folks tired of life who wanted to pass on to the next world to rest from the miseries of this one. 

Aunty Misery realized all this, and not wishing to be unfair, she made a deal with her prisoner, Death: if he promised not ever to come for her again, she would give him his freedom. He agreed. 

And that is why so long as the world is the world, Aunty Misery will always live. 

Closing this very long post with this poem by Ruth Stone:

The Pear

There hangs this bellied pear, let no rake doubt,

Meat for the tongue and febrile to the skin,

Wasting for the mildew and the rot,

A tallow rump slow rounded, a pelt thin

And for the quickest bite; so, orchard bred,

Heaviest downward from the shaking stem.

Whose fingers curve around the ripened head

Lust to split so fine a diadem.

There is the picker, stretches for the knife,

There are the ravening who claw the fruit,

More, those adjuring wax that lasts a life,

And foxes, freak for cunning, after loot.

For that sweet suck the hornet whines his wits,

But husbandman will dry her for the pits.

December 1951

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