Covid Journal, Day 27: Windy Old Weather

37 degrees and cold, cold, cold this morning. Biting wind, scudding clouds and altogether un-springlike. Tonight we may have frost; keeping my fingers crossed that this does not happen.

The high wind of the past few days has reminded me of a folktale that I often tell as an Appalachian Jack tale. In this story the North Wind causes havoc, much like these winds are causing here these days. There are many European folktales that made their way to the mountains with early settlers and were adapted to suit the new environment. This one is great fun to tell, and allows for audience participation as they anticipate what will happen, and can chime in on some of repeated lines.

The Boy and the North Wind

Image by Milo Winter, 1919. from Wikimedia

Once on a time there was an old widow who had one son and, as she was poorly and weak, her son had to go up into the safe to fetch meal for cooking; but when he got outside the safe, and was just going down the steps, there came the North Wind, puffing and blowing, caught up the meal, and so away with it through the air. Then the lad went back into the safe for more; but when he came out again on the steps, if the North Wind didn’t come again and carry off the meal with a puff; and more than that, he did so the third time. At this the lad got very angry; and as he thought it hard that the North Wind should behave so, he thought he’d just look him up, and ask him to give up his meal.

So off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked; but at last he came to the North Wind’s house.

“Good day!” said the lad, and “thank you for coming to see us yesterday.”

“GOOD DAY!” answered the North Wind, for his voice was loud and gruff, “AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME. WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“Oh!” answered the lad, “I only wished to ask you to be so good as to let me have back that meal you took from me on the safe steps, for we haven’t much to live on; and if you’re to go on snapping up the morsel we have there’ll be nothing for it but to starve.”

“I haven’t got your meal,” said the North Wind; “but if you are in such need, I’ll give you a cloth which will get you everything you want, if you only say, ‘Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes!’”

With this the lad was well content. But, as the way was so long he couldn’t get home in one day, he turned into an inn on the way; and when they were going to sit down to supper, he laid the cloth on a table which stood in the corner and said:

“Cloth spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.”

He had scarce said so before the cloth did as it was bid; and all who stood by thought it a fine thing, but most of all the landlady. So, when all were fast asleep, at dead of night, she took the lad’s cloth, and put another in its stead, just like the one he had got from the North Wind, but which couldn’t so much as serve up a bit of dry bread.

So, when the lad woke, he took his cloth and went off with it, and that day he got home to his mother.

“Now,” said he, “I’ve been to the North Wind’s house, and a good fellow he is, for he gave me this cloth, and when I only say to it, ‘Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes,’ I get any sort of food I please.”

“All very true, I dare say,” said his mother; “but seeing is believing, and I shan’t believe it till I see it.”

So the lad made haste, drew out a table, laid the cloth on it, and said:

“Cloth, spread yourself, and serve all up kinds of good dishes.”

But never a bit of dry bread did the cloth serve up.

“Well,” said the lad, “there’s no help for it but to go to the North Wind again;” and away he went.

So he came to where the North Wind lived late in the afternoon.

“Good evening!” said the lad.

“Good evening,” said the North Wind.

“I want my rights for that meal of ours which you took,” said the lad; “for as for that cloth I got, it isn’t worth a penny.”

“I’ve got no meal,” said the North Wind; “but yonder you have a ram which coins nothing but golden ducats as soon as you say to it:

“‘Ram, ram! Make money!’”

So the lad thought this a fine thing but as it was too far to get home that day, he turned in for the night to the same inn where he had slept before.

Before he called for anything, he tried the truth of what the North Wind had said of the ram, and found it all right; but when the landlord saw that, he thought it was a famous ram, and, when the lad had fallen asleep, he took another which couldn’t coin gold ducats, and changed the two.

Next morning off went the lad; and when he got home to his mother he said:

“After all, the North Wind is a jolly fellow; for now he has given me a ram which can coin golden ducats if I only say, ‘Ram, ram! Make money!’”

“All very true, I dare say,” said his mother; “but I shan’t believe any such stuff until I see the ducats made.”

“Ram, ram! Make money!” said the lad; but if the ram made anything it wasn’t money.

So the lad went back again to the North Wind and blew him up, and said the ram was worth nothing, and he must have his rights for the meal.

“Well,” said the North Wind; “I’ve nothing else to give you but that old stick in the corner yonder; but it’s a stick of that kind that if you say:

“‘Stick, stick! Lay on!’ It lays on till you say:

“‘Stick, stick! Now stop!’”

So, as the way was long, the lad turned in this night too to the landlord; but as he could pretty well guess how things stood as to the cloth and the ram, he lay down at once on the bench and began to snore, as if he were asleep.

Now the landlord, who easily saw that the stick must be worth something, hunted up one which was like it, and when he heard the lad snore, was going to change the two, but just as the landlord was about to take it the lad bawled out:

“Stick, stick! Lay on!”

So the stick began to beat the landlord, till he jumped over chairs, and tables, and benches, and yelled and roared:

“Oh my! Oh my! Bid the stick be still, else it will beat me to death, and you shall have back both your cloth and your ram.”

When the lad thought the landlord had got enough, he said:

“Stick, stick! Now stop!”

Then he took the cloth and put it into his pocket, and went home with his stick in his hand, leading the ram by a cord round its horns; and so he got his rights for the meal he had lost.

Once on a time there was an old widow who had one son and, as she was poorly and weak, her son had to go up into the safe to fetch meal for cooking; but when he got outside the safe, and was just going down the steps, there came the North Wind, puffing and blowing, caught up the meal, and so away with it through the air. Then the lad went back into the safe for more; but when he came out again on the steps, if the North Wind didn’t come again and carry off the meal with a puff; and more than that, he did so the third time. At this the lad got very angry; and as he thought it hard that the North Wind should behave so, he thought he’d just look him up, and ask him to give up his meal.

So off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked; but at last he came to the North Wind’s house.

“Good day!” said the lad, and “thank you for coming to see us yesterday.”

“GOOD DAY!” answered the North Wind, for his voice was loud and gruff, “AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME. WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“Oh!” answered the lad, “I only wished to ask you to be so good as to let me have back that meal you took from me on the safe steps, for we haven’t much to live on; and if you’re to go on snapping up the morsel we have there’ll be nothing for it but to starve.”

“I haven’t got your meal,” said the North Wind; “but if you are in such need, I’ll give you a cloth which will get you everything you want, if you only say, ‘Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes!’”

With this the lad was well content. But, as the way was so long he couldn’t get home in one day, he turned into an inn on the way; and when they were going to sit down to supper, he laid the cloth on a table which stood in the corner and said:

“Cloth spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.”

He had scarce said so before the cloth did as it was bid; and all who stood by thought it a fine thing, but most of all the landlady. So, when all were fast asleep, at dead of night, she took the lad’s cloth, and put another in its stead, just like the one he had got from the North Wind, but which couldn’t so much as serve up a bit of dry bread.

So, when the lad woke, he took his cloth and went off with it, and that day he got home to his mother.

“Now,” said he, “I’ve been to the North Wind’s house, and a good fellow he is, for he gave me this cloth, and when I only say to it, ‘Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes,’ I get any sort of food I please.”

“All very true, I dare say,” said his mother; “but seeing is believing, and I shan’t believe it till I see it.”

So the lad made haste, drew out a table, laid the cloth on it, and said:

“Cloth, spread yourself, and serve all up kinds of good dishes.”

But never a bit of dry bread did the cloth serve up.

“Well,” said the lad, “there’s no help for it but to go to the North Wind again;” and away he went.

So he came to where the North Wind lived late in the afternoon.

“Good evening!” said the lad.

“Good evening,” said the North Wind.

“I want my rights for that meal of ours which you took,” said the lad; “for as for that cloth I got, it isn’t worth a penny.”

“I’ve got no meal,” said the North Wind; “but yonder you have a ram which coins nothing but golden ducats as soon as you say to it:

“‘Ram, ram! Make money!’”

So the lad thought this a fine thing but as it was too far to get home that day, he turned in for the night to the same inn where he had slept before.

Before he called for anything, he tried the truth of what the North Wind had said of the ram, and found it all right; but when the landlord saw that, he thought it was a famous ram, and, when the lad had fallen asleep, he took another which couldn’t coin gold ducats, and changed the two.

Next morning off went the lad; and when he got home to his mother he said:

“After all, the North Wind is a jolly fellow; for now he has given me a ram which can coin golden ducats if I only say, ‘Ram, ram! Make money!’”

“All very true, I dare say,” said his mother; “but I shan’t believe any such stuff until I see the ducats made.”

“Ram, ram! Make money!” said the lad; but if the ram made anything it wasn’t money.

So the lad went back again to the North Wind and blew him up, and said the ram was worth nothing, and he must have his rights for the meal.

“Well,” said the North Wind; “I’ve nothing else to give you but that old stick in the corner yonder; but it’s a stick of that kind that if you say:

“‘Stick, stick! Lay on!’ It lays on till you say:

“‘Stick, stick! Now stop!’”

So, as the way was long, the lad turned in this night too to the landlord; but as he could pretty well guess how things stood as to the cloth and the ram, he lay down at once on the bench and began to snore, as if he were asleep.

Now the landlord, who easily saw that the stick must be worth something, hunted up one which was like it, and when he heard the lad snore, was going to change the two, but just as the landlord was about to take it the lad bawled out:

“Stick, stick! Lay on!”

So the stick began to beat the landlord, till he jumped over chairs, and tables, and benches, and yelled and roared:

“Oh my! Oh my! Bid the stick be still, else it will beat me to death, and you shall have back both your cloth and your ram.”

When the lad thought the landlord had got enough, he said:

“Stick, stick! Now stop!”

Then he took the cloth and put it into his pocket, and went home with his stick in his hand, leading the ram by a cord round its horns; and so he got his rights for the meal he had lost.

---------------------
This version of the story is from  the book Popular Tales from the Norse, edited by George Dasent, but there are many other versions in print.

 


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

Stories and Folklore on Ice

With cold weather breathing down our necks again, I got to thinking about ice.

I've dealt with a lot of ice in the last few weeks. Larry is usually the go-to man for such things but with his new knee still healing up, I've been out and about a lot more than usual as I take care of outside chores. I don't mind, and I am sure to put those Yak Trax  ice cleats on my boots, but I have to say, I will be glad to have my man back on the job.

Our driveway was basically a skating rink at the end near the house. Lots of rain followed by freezing temperatures made sure the water was ice in no time at all. Lots of ice. Ice many inches thick in places. Then there was the usual ice on walks, on puddles, and well, pretty much everywhere. I broke up what I could with a mattock, spread sand and wood ash on walks and the worst places on the driveway. And then waited for the thaw, which came late last week.

And now, looks like more ice is on the way and this next weather wave will start with wind and rain before turnng abruptly to snow and below zero temps. Ah me.

But with all that said, I must admit ice holds a fascinating beauty. Like these photos, for example:

This first one was taken by my storytelling friend Gwyn Calvetti, who lives in Minnesota where sub-zero weather is a common winter occurrence. This is a soap bubble, blown in these cold temperatures--it freezes almost immediately and just look at the beauty created!

My sister Juianne Estes often hikes in Shenandoah National Park, and this past weekend took photos of the beautiful ice formations she saw during her hike, like these:

I remember when Jack Frost visited our windows in my childhood home. We don't see that phenonemon these days, but every now and again we might see something pretty on the car windows:

Then there are icicles, admittedly potentially dangerous, but still full of beauty:

Earlier this winter we got to see ice flowers for the first time, and now that I know why they form, I know when and where to look for them in the future.

Of course, ice can bring destruction too, as happened here in the 2003 ice storm--an event I will never forget and hope to never experience again. But never say never, right?

And then there are icy superstitions and weather lore:

Corona: “If a circle forms ‘round the moon,‘Twill rain soon.” The circle that forms around the sun or moon is called a halo. Halos are formed by the light from the sun or moon refracting (bending) as they pass through the ice crystals that form high-level cirrus and cirrostratus clouds. These clouds do not produce rain or snow, but they often precede an advancing low pressure system which may bring bad weather. (from National Park Service's education page.)

Ice in November to walk a duck, the winter will be all rain and muck.

If at Christmas, ice hangs on the willow, then clover may be cut at Easter.

If ice will bear a man at Christmas, it will not bear a mouse afterward.

As long as icicles hang from the roof in winter, so long will flax hang from the distaff.

To be caught in a hailstom is a sign your friends are growing cold

Take a meat chopper outside and cut the ground to frighten off a hailstorm.

This tale comes from Australia:

"An aboriginal myth says that frost comes from the seven stars of the Pleiades, also called the Seven Sisters. The sisters once lived on Earth but were so cold they sparkled with icicles. They flew up into the sky and once each year they pull off their icicles and hurl them down to Earth."

Icy riddles too:

I have no taste,
I have no smell,
You can see right through me,
and can not tell

Lives in winter
dies in summer
grows with its roots upward.

An Anglo-Saxon riddle from the book of Exeter Riddles, circa 960-980 AD). This is riddle #6.

A thing came marvelously     moving over the waves,
comely from the keel up.     It called out to the land,
loudly resounding.     Its laughter was horrible,
awful in its place.     Its edges were sharp;
hateful it was,     and sluggish to battle,
bitter in its hostile deeds.     It dug into shield-walls,
hard, ravaging.     It spread mischievous spells.
It spoke with cunning craft     about its creation:
“Dearest of women     is indeed my mother;
she is my daughter     grown big and strong.
It is known to men of old,     among all people,
that she shall stand up beautifully     everywhere in the world.”


A famous riddle tells the story of a person (sometimes male, in other versions female) who is found murdered in their bed with many stab wounds. The victim and the bed are soaking wet, and on the nightstand is a glass of bloody water. What was the murder weapon?

Why are there sometimes ripples on icicles? Inside Science has the answer!

There is a lot more science about icicles on this sites:

How do icicles form? an article from LiveScience.

Icicle shapes discussed at Inside Science.


With its transformative powers, it is small wonder that ice sometimes appears in folktales and legends. The Snow Queen is probably one of the best known, and was the basis for Disney's Frozen.

Icicle Woman is a haunting (and kinda bloody) ghost story from Japan.

A funny Cajun tale about a unique way to retrieve an axe!

How Davy Crockett saved us from The Frozen Dawn.

Enough about ice! Now I need something warm to drink! Coffee, anyone? But not iced, at least this time.



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