Politics is always a tricky subject to delve into, but I think it would be remiss of me not to mention the fact that yesterday's elections for the Scottish Parliament looks like it's going to bring the biggest win for the Scottish National Party since devolution. In fact, it's looking like there's the possibility that the SNP will be able to form a majority government in Holyrood for the first time ever - the first majority government in Scottish Parliament for any party.
I'd only just moved back to Scotland in 2007 when the SNP won enough seats to form a minority government in the Scottish Parliament at Holyrood, and that in itself was historic enough. In the wake of last year's election for Westminster, though, which resulted in a controversial and very uncomfortable coalition government between the Conservatives and Liberal Democrats, this election for the Scottish Parliament was always going to be interesting.
For the Westminster elections last year, the Tories and Lib Dems brokered their coalition deal mainly off the back of the fact that the previous Labour government at Westminster had lost support with people who were angry at the economy going down the toilet, and that the Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, hadn't even been elected - he'd just taken over when Tony Blair stepped down and decided against holding a re-election (because, people said, he knew it was unlikely he'd win). Amongst other issues, of course.
Since the coalition, though, the Lib Dems have taken a hammering after being accused of many broken promises and failing to temper unpopular Tory policies, and so on. As such, their unpopularity off the back of the Westminster coalition was inevitably going to affect their performance in the Scottish Parliamentary elections yesterday (as well as the local government elections in England, and the Welsh Assembly elections as well).
Scotland has always, historically, been a Labour stronghold (although the north tends to vote Lib Dem), but the performance of the Scottish Labour party leader in the election campaign over the past few weeks, in particular, has proved an utter embarrassment to them. He's managed to hold his seat, scraping through with a majority of just 151, and the party as a whole has taken a bit of a hit in losing some previously safe seats.
The SNP, on the other hand, have managed (they say) to perform impressively over the past four years considering the fact that they've been a minority government. As such, and considering their expectation of winning support from disaffected Lib Dem and Labour voters, they were expecting to make good gains in the election yesterday, and so far have been proven right. There are still results to come in, so a majority is far from certain as yet but some news outlets are already calling it as pretty much the expected outcome.
This means that one of their most cherished policies stands a good chance of getting the go ahead; they failed to get the support for it from the other parties in the last four years (mainly due to the fact that there was a disagreement on how the referendum should be phrased), but now - if they get a majority, or can get enough seats along with the Green party (who also support a referendum) - there is a realistic chance that they can push through a referendum on Scottish independence. The Scottish Labour party, in fact, have been running a scare campaign on this very issue, as a last ditch (and desperate) attempt at clawing back some support - it seems the negative campaigning hasn't gone down too well.
Alex Salmond (the leader of the SNP, and First Minister for Scotland) has said that the referendum is unlikely to go ahead until 2014, and of course there are no guarantees of a yes vote from Scottish voters. The campaigning over the issue is likely to get heated, especially given the fact that the Scottish media - newspapers especially - are generally anti-SNP, and pro-union. Even if there is a yes vote, however, there's no guarantee that it will get anywhere because ultimately it will be in the hands of Westminster. Their refusal to act on a yes vote would have huge implications, of course.
We live in interesting times, indeed.
Friday, 6 May 2011
Thursday, 5 May 2011
And a little bit more...with added werewolf
I apologise if I'm harping on about this whole Tigh nam Bodach thing, but I'm genuinely concerned about it, and so I'm keeping a keen eye on developments.
Yesterday BBC Scotland did a piece on the controversy for the regional news, a video of which you should be able to view at the link below. The folklorist Margaret Bennett is interviewed, and there are some good atmospheric shots of the site to go with it. I don't think there are any regional restrictions on videos like this, so you should be able to watch it wherever you are. If you can't watch it, though, there's an article that accompanies it, but the video is more in-depth:
Anne Ross, it seems, had quite the collection. More on the Hexham Heads here, which gives a bit more detail of Dr Ross' experiences.
I'm told that objections or comments may still be considered by the local council, even though the official window for commenting has now closed. Different councils hold different policies on that, so there's no guarantee, and some will consider anything they receive right up until the date. Details about lodging a comment/objection can be found here, with an email address given on the page that you can use to comment. The application number you need to quote is 11/00061/FLL.
Yesterday BBC Scotland did a piece on the controversy for the regional news, a video of which you should be able to view at the link below. The folklorist Margaret Bennett is interviewed, and there are some good atmospheric shots of the site to go with it. I don't think there are any regional restrictions on videos like this, so you should be able to watch it wherever you are. If you can't watch it, though, there's an article that accompanies it, but the video is more in-depth:
Colin Wilson, of the Glenlyon History Society, said Tigh Nam Bodach was not a protected site.
He said: "What we would like to see happen is a site like this being especially considered in terms of the environmental impact of the scheme.
"Unfortunately it can be overlooked because it is not a scheduled monument.
"It is noted by Historic Scotland but is not scheduled yet."
And that's exactly the problem, really - it's never been investigated so it's not considered significant enough to be protected. As far as I've read, it's thought that the shieling itself is probably no older than the seventeenth or eighteenth century (and that's being generous), but that doesn't mean that the stones or the tradition itself are older.
One thing I turned up to see if anyone else was covering the story is this post by David Clarke, who notes a similar curse associated with the Hexham Heads - a pair of 'Celtic style' heads found in 1972. This story involved claims of a werewolf haunting anyone who possessed them. Funnily enough, Anne Ross is again involved, and once again she had a bad experience when the stones were brought to her house in Wales:
When I interviewed Ross in 1994 she told me the stones brought an “evil presence” with them: “There was no doubt the haunting was that of a werewolf,” she told me. “The thing took form very gradually, and when it actually became not just audible and hinted at but tangible and visible, something had to be done, because it was definitely growing…” (the house was subsequently exorcised, but that’s another story….)
Anne Ross, it seems, had quite the collection. More on the Hexham Heads here, which gives a bit more detail of Dr Ross' experiences.
I'm told that objections or comments may still be considered by the local council, even though the official window for commenting has now closed. Different councils hold different policies on that, so there's no guarantee, and some will consider anything they receive right up until the date. Details about lodging a comment/objection can be found here, with an email address given on the page that you can use to comment. The application number you need to quote is 11/00061/FLL.
EDIT: See also some photos of the Glenlyon History Society's gathering there on Sunday.
Bealltainn
Là Bealltainn shona dhuibh!
I hope yours was a good one - or will be, if you haven't celebrated yet.
Before I go on I have a little confession to make: I've never seen The Wicker Man. Not the original, not even the allegedly appalling remake they did a few years or so ago. I've been to stay in Kirkcudbright - where they filmed the original - three times now, and I've still not seen it. And now, having stayed there for Bealltainn, I should probably hang my head thoroughly in shame...
The weather, however, was beautiful in Kirkcudbright - we're on a long run of fantastically sunny weather here in Scotland (this part of it, anyway) and we're making the most of it while it lasts. Thanks to the length of the dry spell - officially record-breaking now - parts of the Highlands, as well as parts of Ireland and England, have been experiencing wildfires. We've seen some ourselves, on the hills around here as well, but today at last the rain has returned, so that should help.
A lot of the time when I celebrate the festivals it seems like I'm celebrating the promise of the season to come - the lengthening days, the first few flowers bringing the promise of Spring and the trees turning green; the colder weather and darker nights promising the frosts and snows of Winter, and so on. This time, it seems that Summer has decided to come early. Considering Winter stayed so late, and Spring doesn't seem to have known what the hell to do about it all, it's a nice change.
I'm in an odd sort of inbetween here, though. While we were in Kirkcudbright I went to the beach in the early evening of Bealltainn eve, as the sun was setting, to make my offerings and devotions, but I've yet to manage finishing things off here at home (for reasons I'll explain in due course).
On Saturday, we had a good long day at a farm near a place called Borgue (which I'm noting for no other reason than the fact that thankfully, we weren't assimilated), which had a creamery and a huge adventure/assault course there. Tom went down this:
In what amounted to a large metal capsule. Rosie was told she was too wee. This did not go down well.
Then there was this:
A 3D maze with lots of slides and so on, and against my better judgment, seeing as children under 10 had to be accompanied by an adult, I took Tom around while Rosie finished her lunch. It was fun, but I didn't last long before my back began to point out that I really shouldn't be doing that sort of thing; it'd been a lot better at this point, so I thought I'd be OK but didn't want to push it, so handed over the adventuring duties to Mr Seren.
We got home quite late, and seeing as there was nothing in the caravan for dinner Mr Seren was duly sent off on a foraging mission to the nearest chippy to procure us a feast of fish supper (for Tom), sausage supper (for Rosie), haggis supper (for me), and black pudding supper (for Mr Seren), while the kids and I eagerly awaited food and Doctor Who.
Down in England you'd simply order whatever it is you want with chips, but here in Scotland you order 'suppers'. In England, the main staple food to accompany chips is either pie (steak and kidney, or chicken and mushroom, and so on), fish, or battered sausage. Here in Scotland, you get a far wider range - steak pie (no kidney - a fact I, personally, lament), mini pizza, sausage, haggis, black pudding, and probably a whole other lot I've forgotten. I remember as a student in Glasgow, I ordered a steak pie supper once, and when I got home I was horrified to find that the pie had been fried along with the chips. I've since learned that they'll fry the pizza, too. Or you can get a 'pizza crunch' (a battered and fried pizza). You can order them non-fried, of course, but deep-fat fried is the standard. Usually you get the option of salt and vinegar to have on them, but over in the east of Scotland (like Bo'ness, where I used to live), you get the option of 'salt 'n' sauce'. The sauce is vinegar with a little brown sauce mixed in, to spice it up.
Generally speaking the haggis or black pudding comes in a sausage shape, about six inches long and battered (of course); as far as I'm aware they're a specifically Scottish thing - I've never seen them in chippys anywhere else, anyway.
And so behold! A haggis supper (no sheep's stomach's involved):
Black pudding (blood pudding, I think some of you might know it better as) supper:
Round where I live the haggis is darker and spicier (and tastier), and you usually get two pieces of whatever meat/fish you've ordered instead of one. As it turned out, Mr Seren preferred the haggis and I preferred the black pudding, so we went halfsies.
I took some of the feast, and some extras, to the beach with me to make my offerings. The dogs were in tow to give them the chance of a final runaround before we holed up in the caravan for the evening, and I find that they tend to be a good guard and guide for this sort of thing - being out and about at a traditionally dangerous time of the year/season. The beach is right on the mouth of the River Dee, and the tide is amazing - it goes out for miles and miles and then comes right in, and when I got out down to the beach the tide was right out. Mudflats as far as the eye could see until a faint glimpse and glimmer of water lapping around the rocks of the island with the lighthouse on it in the distance.
But it gave ample opportunity for our youngest dog Mungo (mostly sheep dog, so very energetic) to leg it, to run free and frolic without a care in the world. The only problem was, there was a hell of a wind and it was against me so he couldn't hear me calling him (or chose not to, I suspect); he disappeared and our other dog Eddie loyally followed, and I was forced out onto the mud and over the bladderwrack to desparately try and at least find them. Not the most dignified start to my celebratory efforts, and I wasn't wearing the most appropriate footwear either:
Mungo had thoughtfully stomped on me to encourage me to run with him. Thanks Mungo:
Mungo says no problem.
But eventually he came back, with Eddie trotting happily behind him, and Mungo was put on the lead, somewhat chastened. I gingerly made my way over to the rocks, where the ground was less muddy; I was slowly starting to sink out of the flat so figured it was a good idea to get to safety.
At last I was able to concentrate, and I have to give it to the sod of a dog, he'd taken me out far enough to get a beautiful view:
If you like mud, I suppose...
This is the mouth of the Dee - Deva (*Deva, I should say). Blessings were made to her, and I found a good spot in the rocks - a smooth cavity in them, like a small recess - to make my offerings, and then I took time for prayers and further blessings as I took in the view, the salt sea air, the fading sun, the wind in my hair and the mud between my toes. All was peaceful and calm in spite of the wind raging away. A stillness hung in the air as I meditated a little and did my thing.
Eventually the moment was over and it was time to go, and I turned to pick my way through the rocky bits and seaweed. As I'd come into the beach I'd seen something lying on the shoreline, and as I made my way back I found myself picking my way through the rocks towards it. Mungo was leading the way there so I decided to check it out and found it was a child's jacket, Star Wars themed (Tom's latest obsession), apparently recently abandoned or lost. The beach was completely deserted so it had no discernable owner, and seeing as it was Tom's size, it seemed appropriate to pick it up. A Gift for a Gift? A gift from whom? Hmmm.
I went back to the caravan site, where Mr Seren was letting the kids have a final runaround before bed, and we eventually headed back to the caravan. I'd picked up some raspberry wine while we were at the farm earlier in the day (Cairn o' Mhor wine - I've yet to try one I didn't like), so that was cracked open after the kids were asleep, and some of that, along with more offerings were left at the caravan before we made our way home mid-morning on Sunday. When I got up in the morning and let the dogs out, I took in the view to see if there were any signs to be seen. A cow mooed, as if in greeting.
Signs to be heard, then.
Mungo again decided to run off as I was making the last few checks to the caravan, evidently feeling it unfair that one walk that morning wasn't enough. This time he jumped the balcony gate, and I had to leg it after him as he went to find wherever the kids had got to (to the park again, to let me get on with it). And so - after slipping a disc in February and never really recovering - my back is a little knackered again. It didn't like the running. The adventuring the day before probably didn't help either, admittedly.
As such, in between the pain and not being very mobile, I've had to put off my plans to sain the house and finish things off in the way that I'd like. I'm usually in less pain during the day, so while I prefer to do these things in the evening, I've had to admit that it's far more sensible to do things when I'm more able to, rather than when I'd prefer to. I was hoping to do it today, but of course, today is not such a good day. Maybe tomorrow.
I hope yours was a good one - or will be, if you haven't celebrated yet.
Before I go on I have a little confession to make: I've never seen The Wicker Man. Not the original, not even the allegedly appalling remake they did a few years or so ago. I've been to stay in Kirkcudbright - where they filmed the original - three times now, and I've still not seen it. And now, having stayed there for Bealltainn, I should probably hang my head thoroughly in shame...
The weather, however, was beautiful in Kirkcudbright - we're on a long run of fantastically sunny weather here in Scotland (this part of it, anyway) and we're making the most of it while it lasts. Thanks to the length of the dry spell - officially record-breaking now - parts of the Highlands, as well as parts of Ireland and England, have been experiencing wildfires. We've seen some ourselves, on the hills around here as well, but today at last the rain has returned, so that should help.
A lot of the time when I celebrate the festivals it seems like I'm celebrating the promise of the season to come - the lengthening days, the first few flowers bringing the promise of Spring and the trees turning green; the colder weather and darker nights promising the frosts and snows of Winter, and so on. This time, it seems that Summer has decided to come early. Considering Winter stayed so late, and Spring doesn't seem to have known what the hell to do about it all, it's a nice change.
I'm in an odd sort of inbetween here, though. While we were in Kirkcudbright I went to the beach in the early evening of Bealltainn eve, as the sun was setting, to make my offerings and devotions, but I've yet to manage finishing things off here at home (for reasons I'll explain in due course).
On Saturday, we had a good long day at a farm near a place called Borgue (which I'm noting for no other reason than the fact that thankfully, we weren't assimilated), which had a creamery and a huge adventure/assault course there. Tom went down this:
In what amounted to a large metal capsule. Rosie was told she was too wee. This did not go down well.
Then there was this:
A 3D maze with lots of slides and so on, and against my better judgment, seeing as children under 10 had to be accompanied by an adult, I took Tom around while Rosie finished her lunch. It was fun, but I didn't last long before my back began to point out that I really shouldn't be doing that sort of thing; it'd been a lot better at this point, so I thought I'd be OK but didn't want to push it, so handed over the adventuring duties to Mr Seren.
We got home quite late, and seeing as there was nothing in the caravan for dinner Mr Seren was duly sent off on a foraging mission to the nearest chippy to procure us a feast of fish supper (for Tom), sausage supper (for Rosie), haggis supper (for me), and black pudding supper (for Mr Seren), while the kids and I eagerly awaited food and Doctor Who.
Down in England you'd simply order whatever it is you want with chips, but here in Scotland you order 'suppers'. In England, the main staple food to accompany chips is either pie (steak and kidney, or chicken and mushroom, and so on), fish, or battered sausage. Here in Scotland, you get a far wider range - steak pie (no kidney - a fact I, personally, lament), mini pizza, sausage, haggis, black pudding, and probably a whole other lot I've forgotten. I remember as a student in Glasgow, I ordered a steak pie supper once, and when I got home I was horrified to find that the pie had been fried along with the chips. I've since learned that they'll fry the pizza, too. Or you can get a 'pizza crunch' (a battered and fried pizza). You can order them non-fried, of course, but deep-fat fried is the standard. Usually you get the option of salt and vinegar to have on them, but over in the east of Scotland (like Bo'ness, where I used to live), you get the option of 'salt 'n' sauce'. The sauce is vinegar with a little brown sauce mixed in, to spice it up.
Generally speaking the haggis or black pudding comes in a sausage shape, about six inches long and battered (of course); as far as I'm aware they're a specifically Scottish thing - I've never seen them in chippys anywhere else, anyway.
And so behold! A haggis supper (no sheep's stomach's involved):
Black pudding (blood pudding, I think some of you might know it better as) supper:
Round where I live the haggis is darker and spicier (and tastier), and you usually get two pieces of whatever meat/fish you've ordered instead of one. As it turned out, Mr Seren preferred the haggis and I preferred the black pudding, so we went halfsies.
I took some of the feast, and some extras, to the beach with me to make my offerings. The dogs were in tow to give them the chance of a final runaround before we holed up in the caravan for the evening, and I find that they tend to be a good guard and guide for this sort of thing - being out and about at a traditionally dangerous time of the year/season. The beach is right on the mouth of the River Dee, and the tide is amazing - it goes out for miles and miles and then comes right in, and when I got out down to the beach the tide was right out. Mudflats as far as the eye could see until a faint glimpse and glimmer of water lapping around the rocks of the island with the lighthouse on it in the distance.
But it gave ample opportunity for our youngest dog Mungo (mostly sheep dog, so very energetic) to leg it, to run free and frolic without a care in the world. The only problem was, there was a hell of a wind and it was against me so he couldn't hear me calling him (or chose not to, I suspect); he disappeared and our other dog Eddie loyally followed, and I was forced out onto the mud and over the bladderwrack to desparately try and at least find them. Not the most dignified start to my celebratory efforts, and I wasn't wearing the most appropriate footwear either:
Mungo had thoughtfully stomped on me to encourage me to run with him. Thanks Mungo:
Mungo says no problem.
But eventually he came back, with Eddie trotting happily behind him, and Mungo was put on the lead, somewhat chastened. I gingerly made my way over to the rocks, where the ground was less muddy; I was slowly starting to sink out of the flat so figured it was a good idea to get to safety.
At last I was able to concentrate, and I have to give it to the sod of a dog, he'd taken me out far enough to get a beautiful view:
If you like mud, I suppose...
This is the mouth of the Dee - Deva (*Deva, I should say). Blessings were made to her, and I found a good spot in the rocks - a smooth cavity in them, like a small recess - to make my offerings, and then I took time for prayers and further blessings as I took in the view, the salt sea air, the fading sun, the wind in my hair and the mud between my toes. All was peaceful and calm in spite of the wind raging away. A stillness hung in the air as I meditated a little and did my thing.
Eventually the moment was over and it was time to go, and I turned to pick my way through the rocky bits and seaweed. As I'd come into the beach I'd seen something lying on the shoreline, and as I made my way back I found myself picking my way through the rocks towards it. Mungo was leading the way there so I decided to check it out and found it was a child's jacket, Star Wars themed (Tom's latest obsession), apparently recently abandoned or lost. The beach was completely deserted so it had no discernable owner, and seeing as it was Tom's size, it seemed appropriate to pick it up. A Gift for a Gift? A gift from whom? Hmmm.
I went back to the caravan site, where Mr Seren was letting the kids have a final runaround before bed, and we eventually headed back to the caravan. I'd picked up some raspberry wine while we were at the farm earlier in the day (Cairn o' Mhor wine - I've yet to try one I didn't like), so that was cracked open after the kids were asleep, and some of that, along with more offerings were left at the caravan before we made our way home mid-morning on Sunday. When I got up in the morning and let the dogs out, I took in the view to see if there were any signs to be seen. A cow mooed, as if in greeting.
Signs to be heard, then.
Mungo again decided to run off as I was making the last few checks to the caravan, evidently feeling it unfair that one walk that morning wasn't enough. This time he jumped the balcony gate, and I had to leg it after him as he went to find wherever the kids had got to (to the park again, to let me get on with it). And so - after slipping a disc in February and never really recovering - my back is a little knackered again. It didn't like the running. The adventuring the day before probably didn't help either, admittedly.
As such, in between the pain and not being very mobile, I've had to put off my plans to sain the house and finish things off in the way that I'd like. I'm usually in less pain during the day, so while I prefer to do these things in the evening, I've had to admit that it's far more sensible to do things when I'm more able to, rather than when I'd prefer to. I was hoping to do it today, but of course, today is not such a good day. Maybe tomorrow.
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Tigh nam Bodach - making the news!
A happy Bealltainn to you all!
We're back from our wee trip away - boring work stuff and sensible parenting dictating that a day at home tomorrow, to rest, would be good for the kids before they get back to school and all that. It's been a busy few weeks and the earlier sunrises now aren't helping. I'll do a separate post on how my celebrations for Bealltainn went (are going, really), I just wanted to make a post about the continuing threat hanging over Gleann Cailliche and Tigh nam Bodach while my photos from our trip finish uploading...
The last time I checked, over 50 objections had been lodged and published on the council planning page for it, and now the controversy has been noted by the newspapers (in good timing, of course, for the Cailleach and her family to be taken out of their shieling for the summer):
We're back from our wee trip away - boring work stuff and sensible parenting dictating that a day at home tomorrow, to rest, would be good for the kids before they get back to school and all that. It's been a busy few weeks and the earlier sunrises now aren't helping. I'll do a separate post on how my celebrations for Bealltainn went (are going, really), I just wanted to make a post about the continuing threat hanging over Gleann Cailliche and Tigh nam Bodach while my photos from our trip finish uploading...
The last time I checked, over 50 objections had been lodged and published on the council planning page for it, and now the controversy has been noted by the newspapers (in good timing, of course, for the Cailleach and her family to be taken out of their shieling for the summer):
THEY have watched over the high moors of Glenlyon for thousands of years as part of a ritual that goes back to pagan Scotland.
And local legend has it that "strange and terrible" things will happen to anyone who disturbs the peace of the three ancient carved stones at Tigh nam Bodach.
But a development company has now been warned that it risks invoking the curse of the Cailleach - the old woman and protector of the glen - if it pushes ahead with plans to build a hydro-electric power station in one of the remotest parts of Highland Perthshire.
I have to say, I can't help but think that had they gone for emphasising the heritage angle instead of the curse (duh duh DUH), it might have helped garner more support from people who might otherwise dismiss all this as the stuff of a few fringe, possibly tree hugging, loonies. But then, that wouldn't be half so entertaining to read now, would it?
One interesting bit, though - I'd heard one of the stones had been removed once, some years ago, and then returned with reports of strange experiences prompting its return. I had no idea it was Anne Ross!
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
The yellow of Bealltainn
Before I go on, I just want to thank everyone for the outpouring of support I've received since my last post, both publicly and privately - it's really meant a lot to me; as frustrating as this whole thing has been for me, I find myself in the midst of an amazing community, so really - thank you.
I asked Lady Cattra Shadow the Scarlet Cat to remove the posts, and I've since been contacted by her and received assurances that the articles in question were (re)posted by accident, and that she's taken down all of her blogs while she makes sure that everything of mine is gone. I've asked for confirmation that this time all of the articles have been deleted from the various places she's hosting them on, including something called myfreecopyright.com, which makes copies of your work and gives it a digital watermark...and stuff...She's been using it on her blog, so if it automatically makes copies of everything then there are articles of mine hosted there that need to be deleted too.
And then hopefully that will be the end of it.
In the meantime, I've been busy doing family stuff (with my sister and her family visiting) and thinking about the places I can drag my husband and kids along to when we go down to stay in Kirkcudbright this weekend (we get an extra Bank Holiday for the royal wedding, so it's a longer May Day weekend than usual). There has been some working in the garden, and I've finally had some of the veg I've sown outside sprout - radish, carrot, onions, but mainly leeks - lots of leeks. I was starting to get a bit worried that they'd all fail, there.
Seeing as we've been having a bit of a heat wave, it's not just the veg that's springing into life. Because winter hung around for a long while, round here it seems like some of the flowers and trees are quite late in coming into leaf and bloom. The good news for me, though, is that the rowan tree I planted when I moved here is coming into blossom for the first time ever:
Hopefully that means we'll have some berries in the autumn. I planted the tree a little too close to the fence and there's a branch trying to work it's way through the slats, so I'm going to have to chop that bit off at some point - I'll be leaving that job for between the two Bealltainn's, though. I can use the wood for charms for the next year.
And of course, with the warmer weather come the bluebells in the woods:
But mostly it's about the yellow - dandelion (which came out very late this year):
Lesser celandine, everywhere you go in the woods (where the bluebells aren't, at least):
And round here, gorse - lots and lots of gorse:
In previous years I've seen it flowering from around November or December if it's been mild enough, but this year it seems like it was very late to get going.
As yet, I've not spotted any marsh marigolds, I don't think - lus-buidhe Bealltainn, the yellow plant of Bealltainn that marks the start of summer - but the cowslips I planted around my little garden shrine are in full bloom:
And the primrose I put in looks like it isn't far behind.
With Bealltainn approaching, thoughts have been turning to what I'm going to be doing; seeing as we'll be away I think I'm going to have to have a fairly quiet and low key celebration while I'm at the caravan - some offerings down at the beach, a quiet bit of time for some meditation, and maybe a barbecue if the weather stays as sunny as it has been. Since most of the ritual stuff that I do centres on the house and securing protection for it in the coming year and season, I'll have to wait to do that when I get home on Monday.
Usually the kids and I churn some butter, and we make bannocks, and a seasonal picture together. Thanks to my disorganisation and then my back problems we never got round to doing a picture for Spring, and I'm not sure if we'll have time to get one done before the weekend this time round either - I haven't even thought of a theme we can do yet. We'll just have to see. It's going to feel strange celebrating Bealltainn when I'm not here at home, in my own space.
I asked Lady Cattra Shadow the Scarlet Cat to remove the posts, and I've since been contacted by her and received assurances that the articles in question were (re)posted by accident, and that she's taken down all of her blogs while she makes sure that everything of mine is gone. I've asked for confirmation that this time all of the articles have been deleted from the various places she's hosting them on, including something called myfreecopyright.com, which makes copies of your work and gives it a digital watermark...and stuff...She's been using it on her blog, so if it automatically makes copies of everything then there are articles of mine hosted there that need to be deleted too.
And then hopefully that will be the end of it.
In the meantime, I've been busy doing family stuff (with my sister and her family visiting) and thinking about the places I can drag my husband and kids along to when we go down to stay in Kirkcudbright this weekend (we get an extra Bank Holiday for the royal wedding, so it's a longer May Day weekend than usual). There has been some working in the garden, and I've finally had some of the veg I've sown outside sprout - radish, carrot, onions, but mainly leeks - lots of leeks. I was starting to get a bit worried that they'd all fail, there.
Seeing as we've been having a bit of a heat wave, it's not just the veg that's springing into life. Because winter hung around for a long while, round here it seems like some of the flowers and trees are quite late in coming into leaf and bloom. The good news for me, though, is that the rowan tree I planted when I moved here is coming into blossom for the first time ever:
Hopefully that means we'll have some berries in the autumn. I planted the tree a little too close to the fence and there's a branch trying to work it's way through the slats, so I'm going to have to chop that bit off at some point - I'll be leaving that job for between the two Bealltainn's, though. I can use the wood for charms for the next year.
And of course, with the warmer weather come the bluebells in the woods:
But mostly it's about the yellow - dandelion (which came out very late this year):
Lesser celandine, everywhere you go in the woods (where the bluebells aren't, at least):
And round here, gorse - lots and lots of gorse:
In previous years I've seen it flowering from around November or December if it's been mild enough, but this year it seems like it was very late to get going.
As yet, I've not spotted any marsh marigolds, I don't think - lus-buidhe Bealltainn, the yellow plant of Bealltainn that marks the start of summer - but the cowslips I planted around my little garden shrine are in full bloom:
And the primrose I put in looks like it isn't far behind.
With Bealltainn approaching, thoughts have been turning to what I'm going to be doing; seeing as we'll be away I think I'm going to have to have a fairly quiet and low key celebration while I'm at the caravan - some offerings down at the beach, a quiet bit of time for some meditation, and maybe a barbecue if the weather stays as sunny as it has been. Since most of the ritual stuff that I do centres on the house and securing protection for it in the coming year and season, I'll have to wait to do that when I get home on Monday.
Usually the kids and I churn some butter, and we make bannocks, and a seasonal picture together. Thanks to my disorganisation and then my back problems we never got round to doing a picture for Spring, and I'm not sure if we'll have time to get one done before the weekend this time round either - I haven't even thought of a theme we can do yet. We'll just have to see. It's going to feel strange celebrating Bealltainn when I'm not here at home, in my own space.
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